The wind over Duskar Cradle had changed.

  It was no longer just the mountain breeze carrying the scent of flame and high-altitude frost. Now, to Kael, it carried weight. The pressure of truths too large for a single soul.

  He walked the stone paths in silence, lost in the echo of Elyndra’s warning. A god was waking. A relic was stirring. The world would fall.

  And he couldn’t stop it.

  Not yet.

  The blackened marble streets of the noble ring glistened in the morning haze. Floating braziers hummed overhead. Drakenborne walked in clusters—aloof, proud, armored in tradition. Kael ignored their glances.

  Until—

  “Kael!”

  The voice was light, teasing.

  He looked up.

  She stood at the edge of the courtyard fountain, a bow slung across her back and a half-grin pulling at her sharp, beautiful features. Long curls of crimson-black hair spilled over her shoulder, and her golden eyes sparkled like embers.

  Veyra Duskclaw.

  Daughter of a minor noble house. Warrior, huntress, and—much to Kael’s discomfort—his mother’s favorite topic at the dinner table.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Veyra,” Kael said with a guarded smile. “I was just thinking how peaceful today was.”

  She laughed and jogged up beside him. “You say that like I ruin your peace.”

  He shrugged. “Just stating patterns.”

  She playfully bumped his shoulder. “So what were you brooding about? You’ve got that ‘gloomy prince of the underworld’ look again.”

  Kael exhaled, some of the heaviness on his chest loosening just from her presence. “Nothing important. Just returned from a dungeon. Crimson Hollow.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Seriously? That place isn’t supposed to open for another week.”

  “It opened early.”

  “Let me guess,” she smirked. “You walked in, raised something horrifying, and left with a bag full of cursed treasure.”

  Kael chuckled under his breath. “Close enough.”

  They walked side by side through the winding path of sun-drenched obsidian streets. A few nobles watched—Kael could practically feel their whispers.

  Veyra didn’t care.

  After a beat of silence, she glanced up at him again. “You know, we should go hunting together sometime.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “Hunting?”

  “Monsters. Or ruins. Or just… downworld beasts.” Her gaze shifted to the edge of the floating city, where the world far below stretched in a sea of green and gold. “Actually, I’ve been thinking of something bigger.”

  “Oh?”

  “I want to start a guild,” she said. “A real one. Not tied to the houses. Something independent. Adventurers from all races—Drakenborne, humans, elves, beastkin. I want to build a settlement down there too. Make something that lasts.”

  Kael blinked, surprised.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because this?” She gestured to the Cradle. “Floating above the world, acting like we’re better than everyone? It’s rotting. I want to do something real. Something alive.”

  Kael didn’t reply right away.

  But deep inside him, something stirred.

  A settlement. A guild. A place away from the sky.

  Where a necromancer, hated or feared, could build instead of burn.

  “Sounds intriguing,” Kael said at last.

  Veyra grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re considering it.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”