⚔️ **CHAPTER 55 — Borrowed Faces**
Kael dreamed before sleep fully took him.
Not the violent nightmares from before—no screaming, no endless falls. This one was quieter. Sharper.
He stood in the marble halls of Valenhold Academy, sunlight spilling across banners of the Luminous Crown. Everything was exactly as it had been.
Too exact.
"Kael."
He turned.
Caelin stood at the far end of the hall, dressed not in travel-worn clothes but in ceremonial white and gold. A prince again. Clean. Untouched.
"You don't belong out there," Dream-Caelin said calmly. "You never did."
Kael felt Iron Mind stir—but hesitated.
The dream did not *attack*.
It reasoned.
"You're weakening him," the voice continued, stepping closer. "Dragging him into filth and danger. If you truly cared, you'd walk away."
Kael opened his mouth—
—and woke.
Cold. Alert. Breathing fast but controlled.
The fire was nearly out. Dawn hovered just beyond the trees.
Caelin was awake, sitting across from him, expression troubled.
"You felt it too," Kael said quietly.
Caelin nodded. "They tried to speak *through* me."
Veyrath stood at the edge of the camp, eyes distant. "Personal leverage," he said. "They escalate efficiently."
Kael rubbed his face slowly. "They didn't lie."
Caelin looked sharply at him. "What?"
"They didn't twist your words," Kael continued. "They used things you've actually thought."
Silence settled between them.
Caelin finally spoke. "Yes. I've thought them. Because I know what the Council does to people who stay close."
Veyrath turned back toward them. "And now they know that too."
The forest shifted.
Not physically—but perceptually. Paths seemed to branch where none had before. Familiar landmarks felt subtly wrong.
"They're fragmenting perception," Veyrath said. "If you follow comfort, you separate."
Kael stood, testing his balance. "They're trying to make us choose differently."
"Exactly," Veyrath replied. "Kael—what do you trust right now?"
Kael did not answer immediately.
Not Iron Mind.
Not memory.
Not emotion.
He took a breath.
"My pace," he said finally. "If I move too fast, it's wrong."
Veyrath nodded once. "Then lead."
Caelin stiffened slightly. "You want *him* to choose the path?"
"Yes," Veyrath said. "And you to follow even if it contradicts instinct."
They moved.
Slowly.
When the path forked, Kael chose the less certain one—not the safer-looking, not the familiar. Each step felt deliberate, almost heavy with consequence.
The pressure intensified.
Voices brushed the edge of thought again—not Caelin's this time, but echoes of instructors, of judgment, of expectations Kael had never agreed to but had carried anyway.
Iron Mind activated—not as a wall, but as **alignment**.
The voices blurred. Lost coherence.
Behind them, one false path collapsed—trees bending inward as if disappointed.
Caelin exhaled shakily. "They wanted me to pull him back."
"Yes," Veyrath said. "And you didn't."
Caelin met Kael's eyes. "I won't. Even if it costs me."
Kael nodded—no gratitude, no reassurance. Just understanding.
As the forest slowly returned to normal, Veyrath watched Kael with a new intensity.
"You are no longer just resisting," he said. "You are *deciding*."
Kael felt the truth of it settle—not triumphantly, but quietly.
The Council had tried to use faces he trusted.
Instead, they had taught him something else:
Borrowed dreams could be challenged.
Borrowed fears could be refused.
And for the first time since this journey began, Kael did not feel like he was merely enduring the path ahead—
He was choosing it.
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