The air aboard the Nightingale was heavy, not with pressure or temperature, but with the weight of truth unspoken.
Kaelen stood alone in the observation deck, arms crossed behind his back, cloak flickering like starlight caught in motion, eyes fixed on the fractured Realms spinning outside the glass.
Lyra entered first, her Flame muted, her voice cautious.
"You didn't come," she said, not accusing, not quite.
Kaelen didn't turn, his gaze remained locked on the void.
"You didn't need me," he said, the words soft but edged, "You had her."
Sera followed silently, her presence colder now, not in temperament, but in being, the Frostflame lingering at her fingertips.
"You knew the Temple would awaken Orryx," she said, "And you let us go anyway."
"Because you had to face him," Kaelen replied, "If I went… it would've changed everything."
Riven leaned in the doorway, arms folded, gaze unreadable.
"You're hiding something," he said, "Something about your Flame."
The room fell silent.
Kaelen sighed, his breath misting like frost, despite the warmth around them.
"I've burned once," he said at last, "And I swore never to again."
He turned, slowly, cloak settling against his back like a storm coiled at rest.
"My Flame isn't like yours," he said, voice quiet now, "It doesn't create, or heal, or cut through shadow."
"Then what does it do?" Lyra asked.
Kaelen raised a hand, the sigil on his palm glowing faintly, not with fire, but with a dull, gravitational pull.
"It erases," he said, "Not just things. People. Ideas. Existence itself."
"That's not possible," Sera murmured, eyes narrowing.
"It is," Kaelen said, and his voice carried centuries of weight, "Because I did it. I burned a Realm out of time."
The silence that followed wasn't shocked — it was stunned, like the universe itself held its breath.
"Why?" Riven asked, the question more fragile than it should have been.
"Because if I hadn't," Kaelen said, "The Void would've swallowed us all. I made the choice. A hundred million lives for the Realms."
He walked toward the central console, placed his hand on the control rune.
The star map lit up, Realms rotating like gears in a broken clock.
One sector blinked dim, faded, incomplete.
"This," he said, pointing, "Was called Vael'Nir."
"I've never heard of it," Lyra whispered.
"You're not supposed to," Kaelen said, "No one is. Because I burned it from the Flamechain."
Sera's lips parted, but she said nothing.
Riven stepped forward, frowning.
"That's Aeonstar-level," he said, "And you're not…"
"I was," Kaelen replied, "For six seconds. Then I collapsed. The cost of holding that power without the path."
Lyra stared at him, then finally asked the question they'd all been thinking.
"So what are you now?"
Kaelen turned back to the window.
"Something between realms. Between guilt and duty."
"And if you burn again?" Sera asked.
"Then this time, the Realms might not survive it."
Far away, in the ruins of Vael'Nir, something stirred.
A shadow moved through what should not exist.
Whispers returned where there should have been only silence.
The Void-King smiled,
"The Ash-Burner lives," he said, "Then he remembers what he destroyed."
"Good," said the shadow beside him, its voice layered with thousands of stolen tones, "Let him carry the guilt. We will feed on it soon."
Back aboard the Nightingale, Kaelen closed the console.
The others left one by one, uncertain now if their mentor was still on their side.
Alone again, Kaelen spoke into the silence.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, voice breaking, "I'll never forget what I did."
Outside, the Realms spun slowly, but something beneath them had begun to move.
Something old, and very, very angry.