Kael was dying.

Not in the way mortals die, quietly, fading into dust but like a star collapsing. His fire burned inward, consuming itself, turning his veins into molten glass.

The nights grew longer around him. Even the sky seemed to mourn the moon dim, the stars refusing to rise.

I stayed by his side through every flicker, every rasping breath. The fortress was silent except for the hum of the Ashborn’s cradle and the low, gentle crackle of Kael’s fading fire.

“Don’t look at me ...