**CHAPTER 2: "THE GIRL WHO SEES"**
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Three days of walking had turned Kael's boots to rags and his body to lead.
He sat on a weathered stone at the roadside, staring at the walls of Aldengard rising in the distance. The capital city of the First Nation. Massive grey stone, banners of crimson and gold snapping in the wind, guard towers punctuating the skyline like teeth.
Somewhere behind those walls was the man with red eyes.
Somewhere in there, answers waited.
Kael's hand drifted to the wrapped bundle across his back. The black sword. He'd covered it in cloth scavenged from the ruins—too conspicuous to carry openly. But even hidden, he could *feel* it. A constant weight. A constant reminder.
*Father Aldric is dead.*
*Merra is dead.*
*Everyone is dead.*
The thought still felt unreal. Like if he closed his eyes long enough, he'd wake up in his small room at the church, smell breakfast cooking, hear Father Aldric humming while he worked.
But when he closed his eyes, all he saw were flames.
"You planning to sit there until you grow roots?"
Kael's head snapped up.
A merchant cart had stopped beside him—an old man with a weathered face and kind eyes peering down from the driver's seat.
"The city closes its gates at sundown," the merchant continued. "You'll want to get inside before then. Guards don't take kindly to vagrants sleeping rough outside the walls."
Kael realized how he must look. Ash-stained clothes. Hollow eyes. The smell of smoke still clinging to him despite three days on the road.
"Thank you," he managed. "I'll... I'll move."
"Need a ride? I'm heading to the merchant quarter. Not far from the main gate."
Kael hesitated. Trust felt like a luxury he couldn't afford anymore. But his legs ached, and the walls were still miles away.
"If it's not too much trouble."
"Trouble?" The merchant laughed. "Boy, at my age, company is worth more than coin. Hop on."
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The city was overwhelming.
Kael had never been anywhere larger than his village—a few hundred people at most. Aldengard was *thousands*. Maybe tens of thousands. People packed the streets, a river of humanity flowing between buildings that rose three, four, even five stories high.
And the *noise*. Merchants hawking wares. Children shouting. Horses clopping on cobblestones. Somewhere, a street performer played a fiddle badly. The sensory assault made his head spin.
"First time in the capital?" The merchant—he'd introduced himself as Garrett—noticed Kael's wide-eyed stare.
"That obvious?"
"You're gawking like a fish out of water." Garrett chuckled. "Don't worry. Everyone does their first time. Just keep your coin purse close and your wits closer. Aldengard's got wonders and dangers in equal measure."
They passed through the merchant quarter, where shops displayed everything from fine silks to Eidric-powered lanterns that glowed without flame. Kael had heard of such things but never seen them. The crystals inside pulsed with soft blue light, powered by trapped Eidric energy.
"Amazing, aren't they?" Garrett followed his gaze. "Eidric technology. Changed the world, some say. Made it worse, others claim."
"Can anyone learn to use Eidric power?" Kael asked, trying to sound casual.
"Anyone can be *born* with it. But you either have the gift or you don't." Garrett shrugged. "Me? Never manifested even a spark. My daughter though—she can make plants grow twice as fast just by touching them. Got herself a job at the noble estates because of it."
"Does it..." Kael hesitated. "Does it hurt? Using the power?"
"Depends on the person. Some feel nothing. Others say it's like burning from the inside." Garrett's expression darkened. "And if you use too much, too often... well. You've heard the stories about brutal death, I'm sure."
Kael had. Whispers in the village about people who pushed their powers too far. Died but the reason is not conformed
Father Aldric's words echoed: *Power always comes with a price.*
The cart stopped at a busy intersection.
"This is where I turn off," Garrett said. "The inn district is straight ahead—three blocks, can't miss it. Got any coin for lodging?"
Kael touched the small pouch at his belt. He'd grabbed what little money Father Aldric kept in the church before leaving. Not much, but enough for a few nights if he was careful.
"A little."
"Try the Copper Kettle. Clean beds, decent food, and the owner doesn't ask too many questions." Garrett's eyes were knowing. "Whatever brought you to Aldengard, son... be careful. This city eats the unprepared alive."
"Thank you. For everything."
"Don't mention it." Garrett clicked his tongue, and the cart rolled away into the crowd.
Kael stood alone in the river of people, the wrapped sword heavy on his back.
Time to find answers.
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The Copper Kettle was exactly as Garrett described—small, clean, unremarkable. The kind of place where travelers came and went without leaving impressions.
Perfect.
Kael paid for three nights and a meal, then retreated to his room. It was tiny—barely large enough for the narrow bed and a washbasin—but it had a lock on the door and a window overlooking the street. Good enough.
He unwrapped the sword carefully.
In the dim light of the room, the black blade seemed to *absorb* the shadows around it. The red veins he'd seen in the village were dormant now, but he could still feel the power thrumming beneath the surface. Waiting.
*What are you?* Kael wondered, not for the first time.
The sword didn't answer. It never did. But sometimes—just sometimes—he thought he felt something. An awareness. A presence watching from behind his reflection in the dark metal.
He rewrapped it quickly and hid it under the bed. Not the best hiding spot, but carrying it openly would draw too much attention.
Downstairs, the common room was filling with evening patrons. Workers finishing their shifts. Merchants celebrating deals. Soldiers off-duty and drinking away their boredom.
Kael found a corner table and ordered the cheapest stew on the menu.
He was *listening*.
That was the plan. Sit quietly. Listen to conversations. Pick up information about the king's guards, about assassins, about anything that might point him in the right direction.
"—increased patrols in the eastern district—"
"—another village, I heard. Whole place wiped out—"
Kael's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.
"—third one this month, isn't it? King's getting paranoid."
"Can you blame him? With all the talk of forbidden Eidric research—"
"Research." The speaker snorted. "That's what they call it when they want to justify burning down some poor farming town."
"Careful. Walls have ears in this city."
The conversation shifted to safer topics. But Kael's heart was pounding.
*Third village this month.*
His wasn't the only one. Whatever had brought those assassins to his home, it wasn't isolated. There was a *pattern*.
He needed to know more. Needed to find someone who—
"You look like you're about to stab that stew to death."
The voice was female, calm, almost amused.
Kael looked up sharply.
A young woman stood beside his table. Maybe a two or three older than him, with long silver hair that caught the lamplight and eyes that were... unusual. Purple. Or maybe violet, depending on the angle. She wore practical traveling clothes—well-made but not ostentatious—and carried a staff with some kind of ornate crystal fixed to its head.
An Eidric user.
"Not interested in company," Kael muttered, returning to his stew.
"Good thing I'm not offering company, then." She sat down across from him anyway, signaling the barkeep. "I'm offering information."
That got his attention. "What kind of information?"
"The kind someone with murder in his eyes usually wants." Her purple gaze held his steadily. "You're hunting someone. You've been asking questions at every inn and shop between here and... let me guess... one of the rural villages? You're not subtle about it."
Kael's jaw tightened. "And?"
"And I might know where to find the people you're looking for." She accepted a cup of wine from the barkeep, taking a measured sip. "For a price."
"I don't have money."
"I don't want money." She set the cup down. "I want to know why a boy with no Powers , what can do."
The temperature seemed to drop.
Kael's hand drifted toward his side—toward where his sword *should* be if he hadn't left it upstairs. This woman could *sense* it. From down here. Through a floor and walls.
"Relax." She held up a hand. "I'm not here to take it. I'm just... curious. That thing you're carrying isn't normal. Any Eidric user within a hundred feet can feel it. You're lucky soldiers are too dull to notice, but someone will eventually. Someone dangerous."
"Then why help me?"
Her expression shifted, something haunted flickering behind those purple eyes. "Because I understand loss. And I understand revenge. And because..." She hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. "Because I think we might be looking for the same people."
Kael studied her. Every instinct screamed not to trust her. He knew nothing about this woman. She could be working for the king, testing him, trying to trap him.
But she was right about one thing—he was lost. Three days in the capital, and he'd gotten nowhere. The city was massive, overwhelming. Without help, he'd never find the assassins.
And those purple eyes... there was something genuine in them. Something that understood exactly what he was feeling.
"The man I'm looking for has red eyes," Kael said finally. "Wears black. King's assassin. He led the attack on my village."
Recognition flashed across her face. "Red eyes... hooded figure... elite operative. I know him." Her voice went cold. "Or at least, I know *of* him. His name is Verath. He's one of King Aldric's top associates. Handles the... dirty work."
"Where can I find him?"
"Not *where*. *When*." She leaned forward. "Verath doesn't stay in the capital. He operates across all Five Nations. But there's a pattern to his movements. I've been tracking him for months."
"Why?"
"That's my business." Her tone made it clear the subject was closed. "The point is, I can help you find him. And in exchange, you help me with something."
"What?"
"Later. First, we need to get you trained. Right now, you're a civilian with a stolen weapon. Against Verath, you'd last about ten seconds."
Kael bristled. "I can fight."
"Can you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever used Eidric power? Do you even know how to use Sword?"
He wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her the sword had protected him, that he'd felt its power, that he wasn't helpless.
But the truth was, he didn't know how to use it. In the basement, it had reacted to his desperation. Since then, nothing. Just a heavy weapon he barely knew how to swing.
"I'll learn," he said.
"Yes. You will." She extended a hand across the table. "My name is Liora. And if you trust me—even a little—I'll help you find the people who destroyed your life."
Kael stared at her hand.
This was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake. Trusting a stranger, accepting help with unknown strings attached, walking into something he didn't understand.
But what choice did he have?
He gripped her hand. "Kael."
"Kael." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. There was something sad in that expression, something apologetic.
He'd remember that look later.
Much later.
When it was far too late.
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They left the Copper Kettle together as the last light faded from the sky.
Liora led him through winding streets, away from the main thoroughfares and into quieter districts. Old residential areas where the buildings leaned close together and lantern light flickered in windows like distant stars.
"Where are we going?" Kael asked.
"Somewhere we can talk without being overheard." She glanced back at him. "You said you wanted answers about Verath. I'll give them to you. But first, you need to understand what you're up against."
They emerged into a small courtyard—more of an alley, really, with crumbling walls and a dry fountain at its center. Empty. Private.
Liora turned to face him fully.
"Show me the sword."
Kael hesitated.
"If I wanted to take it, I could have done it while you slept," she pointed out. "Or reported you to the guards. Or a dozen other things. I'm on your side, Kael. At least for now."
Slowly, he unwrapped the black blade.
Even in the dim moonlight, it was striking. That darkness that seemed to *drink* light. The ancient symbols carved along its length. The sense of wrongness that clung to it like a second skin.
Liora's eyes widened.
"You know what this is?"
"I know what it *might* be." She circled it slowly, not touching but examining closely. "There are legends. Stories passed down through certain families. About weapons from the old wars. Before the Shattering."
"The Shattering?"
"That's what they call it. The great war that even split the continents." She looked up at him. "You don't know any of this, do you?"
"My village was small. We didn't have scholars or libraries. Just Father Aldric's stories about kindness and peace."
"Well, didn't your father Aldric didn't tell you anything." Liora's expression was grave. "The strongest warrior of 300-year ago had this Sword", nobody remembers the details anymore, or if they do, they're not talking. "But the stories say that to defeat that person our ancestor give everything they had." No one knows he was evil or not.
"That's..." Kael struggled to process it.
"Neither is a sword that radiates power like a furnace but remains cold to the touch." She gestured at the blade. "Yet here we are."
Kael looked down at the weapon in his hands. Three hundred years old. From a war so terrible it broke the world.
What was Father Aldric doing with something like this?
"The legends also say," Liora continued carefully, "that weapons from that war were bonded to their wielders. That they chose who could use them. And that if you weren't chosen..." She met his eyes. "The sword would kill you the moment you touched it."
"I touched it. I'm still alive."
"Exactly." Something shifted in her expression—calculation, maybe. Or recognition. "Which means it chose you. For better or worse, Kael, you and that blade are connected now."
The sword pulsed in his hands, as if agreeing.
Kael quickly rewrapped it. "You said you'd tell me about Verath."
"Right." Liora shook herself, as if pulling back from deep thoughts. "Verath. Elite assassin, operates independently, reports directly to Noah Varhardt one of The Five Fangs. He's a high-level Eidric user—specializes in enhanced speed. He's killed more people than you've met in your entire life."
"How do you know all this?"
"Because I've been hunting him too." Her voice was flat. "Or rather, hunting the people he works for. The kings. All of them."
"All five?"
"All five." She nodded. "They're corrupt, Kael. Every single one. They destroy villages, kill innocents, all while sitting in their palaces pretending to be just rulers. Your village wasn't the first. It won't be the last."
"Then why hasn't anyone stopped them?"
"Because they *are* the law. They control the guards, the courts, the information. Anyone who speaks against them disappears." Her hands clenched into fists. "I've lost... people. To their 'justice.' That's why I'm doing this. That's why I need your help."
For the first time since they'd met, Liora looked vulnerable. Raw. Like she'd pulled back a mask to show him the pain beneath.
Kael understood that pain. He'd lived it for three days.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Help me expose them. Travel with me across the Five Nations. Document their crimes. Find proof. Build a case so overwhelming that even they can't deny it." She looked at him intently. "And along the way, you'll find Verath. I promise you that."
It wasn't the direct revenge he'd imagined. He'd pictured finding Verath quickly, fighting him, ending it.
But Liora was offering something bigger. A chance to make sure what happened to his village never happened again. A chance to *matter*.
And she was offering companionship. An ally in a world that suddenly felt impossibly large and hostile.
"Alright," Kael said. "I'll help you."
"Good." Liora's smile returned, warmer this time. "We leave for the Capital City in three days. That gives us time to get you some basic combat training and gather supplies. Verath was last spotted there—it's a long journey, but if we're lucky, we'll catch his trail there."
"Capital?"
She turned to leave the courtyard, then paused.
"Kael? Thank you. For trusting me."
"Don't make me regret it."
"I'll try not to."
She walked away, her footsteps fading into the night.
Kael stood alone in the courtyard, the wrapped sword heavy in his hands.
He didn't know it then, but he'd just made the most important—and most terrible—decision of his life.
Somewhere in the darkness, forces he couldn't imagine had just aligned.
And far away, in a throne room of twisted stone and red lightning, ancient eyes opened.
The game had begun.
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**END CHAPTER 2**