CHAPTER 18: THE NEW BEGINNING (Rewritten & Extended)
Three months after the mountain shook and the world changed, Moonveil Sect felt like a different place. The old council chamber was now an open training pavilion where disciples argued as much as they practiced. No more bowing to gray-haired masters who spoke in riddles. Now a sixteen-year-old girl with fire in her eyes could challenge a veteran and win respect for it.
Liriel stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching a new batch of disciples fumble through Void Resonance basics. One kid—couldn't have been older than fourteen—made a pebble hover for three seconds before it exploded into dust. The others laughed, but not mean. They clapped him on the back.
"You're getting it," she called down. "Keep breathing through it."
Kael came up beside her, two steaming cups in hand. His hair was longer now, tied back messily. He handed her the tea and their fingers brushed—that electric hum of their merged cores hitting like always.
"They're fearless," he said, sipping his own. "Used to take us weeks to get that far."
Liriel smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "They're fearless because we showed them it's safe. But I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
He knew what she meant. The seal was cracked. Void Resonance was seeping into the world like ink in water. Reports came in daily—random cultivators in far-off sects suddenly bending time around their swords, village healers reversing wounds they'd never touched before. Most of it was small. Harmless. But some...
"Any word from the north?" she asked quietly.
Kael shook his head. "Nothing solid. Rumors of a man matching Kessian's description, but he's keeping low. Farmers say he fixed a roof during a storm. Wouldn't take payment."
Liriel exhaled. Part of her wanted him found, offered real help. Part of her knew he'd spit in her face. The man had ripped out his own connection to the Void. That kind of pain didn't heal with tea and sympathy.
Before she could say more, Kael set his cup down and took both her hands. Nervous energy crackled through their bond—his heart pounding loud as her own.
"I've been carrying this too long," he said. Voice rough, like he'd rehearsed it a hundred times. "Liriel Ashenbrand. We've faced down gods and prophecies and our own damn stupidity. I want the rest of it with you. Officially. Will you marry me?"
He pulled out the ring—simple dark metal, stone pulsing with their shared rhythm. Disciples below froze mid-swing, sensing the shift in the air.
Tears hit before she could stop them. "Yes," she whispered. "Gods, yes, Kael."
He slid it on, and the stone flared bright enough to light the courtyard. Cheers erupted from below. Seraph appeared from nowhere, grinning like an idiot, pulling them both into a hug that smelled of sweat and sword oil.
That night, the Sect celebrated. Not some stuffy formal dinner—barrels of rice wine, street food carts hauled in, disciples dancing badly on the training mats. Liriel and Kael stole away early, finding a quiet spot on the mountain path where stars actually showed through the haze.
"So," she said, head on his shoulder. "Husband-to-be. What now?"
He kissed her temple. "Wedding first. Then we figure out how to teach the world not to blow itself up."
She laughed. Simple. Real. For the first time in years, it felt possible.