Kael turned the corner and stepped into Velthoria's market square, now stripped of its stalls and cleared bare, a hastily assembled stage standing at the far end against a row of closed shops.
He pushed past two Luminaires to get a better view. Tension hung thick in the air as every Luminaire in Velthoria packed the square, shoulders brushing without concern.
Kael looked ahead at the stage. It was simple, nothing more than a lectern flanked by banners sewn with the Valthorne crest, yet that alone was enough to keep the entire crowd in check.
Minutes passed.
Then a lone figure in a formal dress uniform stepped onto the stage, placed several papers on the lectern, and sorted them, unhurried. Luminaires around him exhanged glances but remained silent.
The man cleared his throat.
"Good evening, Luminaires of Velthoria."
Vael hadn't even bothered with an introduction.
The Valthorne family had posted notices on the mission boards months ago, announcing that this speech would take place, ensuring every Luminaire had time to attend.
"As you know," Vael said, his voice carrying easily across the square, "the distrust between us and Eireindaile has increased immensely since the assassination of my grandson last summer."
At last, the crowd began to stir, whispers spreading like ripples.
"I remember that," a man murmured. "That was Aven's son, wasn't it?"
Another nodded. "Seems it really was Eireindaile after all."
He shook his head slowly.
Until now, Valthorne had never made an official announcement. There had only been rumors, half-formed accusations passed in private. But with Vael's words, denial collapsed, and something uglier surfaced in its place. Hatred took root across the square, its direction unmistakable.
"I always knew Eireindaile were cowards," a woman whispered over her shoulder toward Kael. "To kill a child…"
She scoffed.
Kael answered with a quiet nod.
When the murmurs finally died down, Vael continued.
"Therefore, I am here to announce that Velthoria will enter a state of emergency."
The air shifted.
"From today onward, each of you will be obligated to provide five mindstones per day. Those unable to do so will instead be assigned missions of equivalent value."
Mouths fell open across the square.
Vael did not pause.
"From this point forward, I formally declare Eireindaile a threat to Velthoria's future."
Kael scanned the crowd as disbelief spread in unison, faces hardening as understanding set in.
He scoffed inwardly.
'So that's how they plan to do it.'
What did the people of Velthoria really have?
Most of the Luminaires gathered in the square today had been born here, raised here, sheltered beneath Valthorne banners from the moment they had first learned to control their Thoughts. Protection had been constant, quiet, and absolute. And with it came something heavier than gratitude.
Belonging.
And guilt.
They had lived because the Valthorne stood between them and everything beyond the city walls. That debt was never spoken aloud, but it lingered all the same, woven into daily life. A sense that survival itself needed repayment.
Complete missions. Pay mindstones. Kill beasts. It didn't matter how. Anything that made Velthoria safer for the next generation was praised, celebrated, held up as virtue. That lesson had been taught since childhood.
And it worked.
There was comfort in it, too. Comfort in knowing that effort would be rewarded, that sacrifice would be acknowledged, that if you survived what was coming you would be remembered, elevated, praised. Pride filled the gaps where doubt might have crept in.
Around Kael, Luminaires had already begun to talk, voices low but animated, feeding off one another.
He turned his gaze back to Vael without restraint.
But pride and belonging alone were never enough for everyone.
What of those who felt no hatred for Eireindaile? Those who didn't feel the pull of loyalty strongly enough to march into bloodshed on command?
That was where Valthorne stepped in.
A state of emergency. A simple declaration. Mindstones collected daily, not as punishment, but necessity. At first, it would feel manageable. Then it wouldn't. Slowly, inevitably, pressure would build as reserves dwindled.
And when that happened, where would the resentment go?
Not toward Valthorne. Everyone here understood that. The cause had already been named, the blame placed neatly elsewhere. Eireindaile had started this. Eireindaile was the threat. Eireindaile was the reason life had grown harder.
And Velthoria would not leave a state of emergency until the threat was gone.
Kael exhaled.
Governance, he realized, was rarely about orders. It was about shaping where people chose to direct their anger, and making sure they thanked you for it when they did.
"I hope you understand that I take no pleasure in this,"
Vael said evenly.
Luminaire after Luminaire nodded in approval.
"With that said," he continued, "I have also stepped onto this stage personally to issue a warning."
The square stilled.
"Eireindaile has spent years slipping Luminaires beneath the roof of Velthoria. While we believe most remain hidden, I am here to speak of the most dangerous among them."
Vael turned a page.
"Syleena Eireindaile. Female. Young. Small build. Ash-brown hair, hazel eyes. Known to cultivate the mind pathway." He paused briefly. "Suspected to have reached rank two this fall."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"She has proven nearly impossible to locate," Vael went on. "If any of you possess information, you are advised to step forward. You will be rewarded accordingly. Should you encounter her directly, you are strongly advised to attack on sight. Compensation will be discussed later."
Confusion spread.
"An Eireindaile cultivating mind path?" someone whispered.
"I thought they only used blade path."
"I've seen that name on a black market bounty," another voice said, recognition creeping in.
Vael allowed the whispers to circulate, letting uncertainty ferment, before lifting his gaze again and waiting for silence to return.
"Kael Sinclaire," Vael continued, "a hired Luminaire in service to Eireindaile, and the suspected murderer of my grandchild. Slim but fit build. Green eyes. Long black hair. Current rank: unknown."
His gaze dipped briefly.
Elara stood beside the stage.
"An individual known for lying without hesitation and manipulating others. He wields a mote that manifests as a golden rod, capable of moving freely through the air without support."
A pause.
"Other confirmed motes include the Lure mote, associated with the mind pathway, capable of inducing victims to act against their usual behavior. His primary pathway remains unknown."
Vael lifted his head.
"If spotted, you are advised to flee unless you are rank three or above. Report his location immediately to noble officials."
"If killed, you will be awarded a mote of free choice from our vault."
The words settled.
For a heartbeat, the square was silent.
Then a whisper cut through it.
"A mote… of free choice?"
A woman rasped the words, unsure she had heard correctly.
And then restraint collapsed.
"A FREE MOTE?"
"I'll find him."
"Wait... wasn't that the prodigy rookie from the fight club?"
Heads snapped around.
"You're right, I remember him!"
Voices erupted all at once, overlapping, feeding into one another. Rumors spilled freely. Stories grew with every retelling. Those who had seen him fight became instant centers of attention, strangers crowding around them, begging for details, for weaknesses, for anything.
Kael stood frozen.
An announcement. That was what the notice had said.
This was something else entirely.
Vael wasn't warning the city. He was openly calling for the assassination of an Eireindaile asset. This wasn't posturing.
It was a declaration of war.
Kael bent forward, hands braced on his thighs, his breathing shallow as the noise pressed in from all sides. Around him, countless voices dissected "Kael," speculated on his powers, debated how many it would take to bring him down, how best to corner him.
A young man noticed him lingering.
He stepped closer and placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. "You've been awfully quiet," he said with an easy smile. "What do you think? Want to team up and hunt this Kael down? Lot of ground to cover, but he can't hide forever, right?"
He laughed.
Kael inhaled once and straightened.
"Thanks. But I work alone."
The man shrugged and drifted off toward someone else.
Kael's gaze lifted to the stage, resting briefly on Vael, then shifting to Elara.
Then he turned away and pushed into the crowd.
Only once he broke free of the square did he stop, drawing in a deep breath as the noise dulled behind him.
Kael pushed the apartment door open and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind him.
He crossed to the kitchen and grabbed a bag, then yanked open the drawer and swept his remaining notes and books into it. In the bathroom, he splashed water over his face and wiped it dry.
"We've done it now, Syleena…"
The words slipped out under his breath.
He glanced toward the window.
The door creaked.
Mael skidded to a halt just outside the apartment, boots sliding a few centimeters, painting wet streaks. She clutched her beige coat closed with one hand, the other braced against the doorframe as she sucked in air.
"I made it in time," she said, breathless.
Kael turned to her.
Something cold settled behind his blindfold. His hand curled into a fist inside his pocket.
Mael broke into a sprint.
Kael's arm came up in the same instant, fingers tensing, ready—
She didn't slow.
Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled.
"Come."
She was already turning, dragging him toward the door.
"We have to hurry."
Kael's bag fell from his grip, sliding books and notes across the floor.
Their hair bounced in unison as they ran down the stairs, Mael's gold and Kael's black blurring together. The moment they burst into the street, Mael threw a single glance over her shoulder, then surged forward, dragging Kael with her into a sprint.
They dashed between buildings and narrow alleys, the city breaking apart around them in flashes. The library blurred past in one breath, then the small café where Kael often stopped for coffee.
"Where are you taking me?"
Kael finally asked.
They cut another corner.
"Quiet,"
was all she gave him.
Kael glanced down as their boots hammered across a narrow bridge.
'The mortal district?'
A thin stretch of woods rushed by, followed by buildings he recognized from his arrival in Velthoria. Small red-painted houses, each with a candle burning in the window.
'I see…'
A while later she slowed to a walk, releasing his wrist as two massive gate doors loomed ahead. She bent forward, hands on her knees, catching her breath.
Kael watched in silence.
After a few heartbeats, she straightened and approached the gate, pulling a necklace free and pressing it into an indentation in the wood.
She glanced back at him and nodded.
As Kael stepped closer, he started to speak.
"You know—"
She raised two fingers, silencing him without looking.
"Fuck Valthorne," she said lightly, then added, "and fuck Eireindaile," flashing him a quick, crooked smile.
They passed through the gates and onto a long cobblestone road. Ancient oaks lined either side, their bare crowns stretching overhead, casting skeletal shadows across the snow.
In the distance, a massive wooden structure rose atop a low hill.
Mael pushed open one of the great doors and held it there, waiting.
Kael stepped inside.
The moment they stepped inside, a wave of light washed over them, spilling down from a ceiling crowded with chandeliers.
Two household staff bowed instinctively when they spotted Mael.
"Your childhood home?"
Kael asked.
Mael acknowledged the servants with a brief wave and continued forward. Kael followed at her back.
They crossed pristine carpeted floors, passing walls dense with paintings, generations of faces watching in silence.
"I expected you to be up to something," she said lightly as she opened an armored door. "But a mercenary working for Eireindaile?"
A soft laugh slipped from her as they descended a narrow staircase.
At the bottom stood another door, this one guarded by two Luminaires seated nearby.
"Mael?"
One of them stood and bowed. "You know we can't allow anyone but a Claymore past this point."
"Emergency," she said flatly. "Leave, or I'll fetch my father."
The men exchanged glances, then looked past her at the blindfolded figure waiting behind.
After a moment, they stepped aside.
"As you wish."
The room beyond was small, no larger than the cabin. Two racks stood at its center, while every wall was lined with shelves, each packed with jars.
"Motes?"
Kael asked as he stepped closer.
"This is the main storage unit for motes the Claymore family owns,"
Mael said, moving from jar to jar, reading each label under her breath.
"I know I have seen it here somewhere…"
'Has she finally lost it?'
Kael thought.
Even after everything they had shared, living under the same roof, eating at the same table, it still felt like a stretch to say they truly knew each other. And after being publicly labeled a liar and a manipulator, standing here like this felt almost unreal.
Yet here they were, deep within the heart of the Claymore estate.
Kael let his gaze drift across the shelves.
'Rank four.'
The label made him pause. He tried to estimate the total value stored in the room, then gave up. If even a portion of this were released, Velthoria's economy would not survive it.
"There."
Mael pulled a jar free and pressed it into his hands, then immediately turned back to the shelves.
Kael examined it.
'Rank two. Single use?'
There was no description.
Mael dropped to the floor again before finding another. She rose, holding it up, her eyes moving between the two jars as she thought in silence.
She looked at Kael. Then back at the jars.
"This one."
She reached out.
Kael took it.
"Follow me."
He did.
They climbed back to the upper floor and stopped before a door.
"Come in."
She opened it.
The room held a queen sized bed and a vanity cluttered with makeup and books. Paintings of flowers and distant landscapes lined the walls
Mael let gravity pull her down onto the bed.
A long sigh escaped her.
"I can't believe an actual war is about to break out."
She raised her hands toward the ceiling, moving them aimlessly.
"Why can't everybody just get along?"
She clearly knew the answer, but asked anyway.
"What are these motes, Mael?
Mael pushed herself up into a sitting position.
"They're both single use," she said, resting her chin in her palm. "They'll permanently alter your appearance."
Kael said nothing.
Mael raised an eyebrow.
"What? Don't worry, they'll suit you. And don't think about paying me back. Consider it payment for letting me crash in your apartment."
Kael hesitated, not because he cared about how he looked, but because he couldn't grasp her reasoning. He was certain she hadn't lied about the motes, but helping him like this meant openly siding against Valthorne.
'Because I know Darian?'
It wasn't impossible. She had always seemed oddly proud when talking about Darian and his friends.
Kael twisted open the lid of the jar and lifted out a white crocus flower levitating inside. He turned it slowly between his fingers, then looked at Mael.
She gave a small nod.
Kael let his red Will engulf the flower.
Mael shifted slightly at the sight of it, but said nothing.
When his Will fully covered the petals, Kael clenched his fist. The Will drained back into him.
Mael watched closely.
Kael's raven black hair began to pale from the roots outward, like a wave rolling across a shallow shore. Each strand shimmered gently as it changed color.
Mael smiled softly.
"Suits you."
She leaned closer, eyes following the strands as Kael lifted a few between his fingers.
They were white. Not pale, not silver, but stark and clean, like untouched snow after the first fall.
Mael tilted her head slightly.
"Now," she said, her smile thinning just a little, "the other one."
He lifted the second mote. A luminescent, jellyfish-like form hovered above his palm, drifting lazily, uncaring of its surroundings.
Kael let his Will close around it.
"Wait!"
Mael pushed herself off the bed and crossed the room.
She reached up, fingers brushing his face as she untied the blindfold and stepped back, holding it loosely in her hands.
"Go."
Kael struggled to open his eyes. Even candlelight burned. He clenched his fist, and the mote entered him.
Nothing changed. At first.
Mael smiled and leaned in close, studying his eye.
The ancient emerald green was gone, replaced by something clearer. Blue. Cold and sharp. His iris stood out more now.
"Hm. The same blue as glacial ice."
She stepped back and grimaced slightly.
"I was hoping you wouldn't," she said, "but you really do look like a descendant of one of the royal noble families."
She handed him his blindfold.
Kael took it and tied it back into place.