The dawn broke lazily over the Glacier of Thorns, revealing silver-crusted peaks and the trail of bootprints left in the night's powder. Aeren was the first to rise, unsurprisingly. Sleep had evaded him after Kael's cryptic words.
She had known his name. Not just recognized it—known it, as if it were old knowledge, familiar like a lullaby half-forgotten.
Veylan stirred next, grunting as he stretched. "She's still here, huh?"
"She snored," Elira added from behind a rock. "Like a dying wyvern."
"I do not snore," came Kael's voice, muffled by her furs.
"You literally scared off a snow owl in the middle of the night," Elira replied dryly.
Kael sat up, hair a wild tangle of frost and feathers. "That owl had it coming."
Roen tossed her a chunk of bread. "You're lucky Elira didn't stab you."
"She's cute when she's mad," Kael said.
Elira rolled her eyes, and Roen—the Roen—nearly choked on his tea.
---
They began their descent south toward the ruins of Morwin Hold, a place said to house one of the Veiled Archives. Roen had insisted they go there next.
Kael walked beside Aeren.
"So," she said, swinging her bag, "you're part god, part mystery, all broody. That about right?"
Aeren gave her a look. "I'm not broody."
"You sit in the snow and stare at fire like it owes you rent. That's peak broody behavior."
He tried not to smile. "What about you? Thief? Liar? Oracle?"
"All of the above. But you left out the important part."
"What's that?"
"I'm charming."
He did smile then.
---
Morwin Hold loomed by sunset, a sprawling half-sunken fortress built into the cliffs, swallowed in vines and silence. The front gate was ajar.
"That's not creepy at all," Kael said cheerfully.
They entered cautiously. Roen's fire flickered unnaturally, reacting to something unseen.
"Elira?" Veylan murmured.
"I feel it too. Old magic. Blood-bound."
The library was deep beneath the surface. Scrolls floated in air like drifting leaves. Aeren reached toward one—
—and the floor opened beneath them.
They landed in darkness. A pulse beat in the deep.
Then came a voice. Not human. Not kind.
"You bring the Flame. The Heart. And the Broken Spark. What will you trade?"
Lights flared. They were in a hall lined with mirrors. But the mirrors didn't reflect them.
Each showed… possibilities.
Aeren saw himself with blackened eyes, sitting on a throne of ash.
Kael saw herself holding a blade she did not recognize, standing over a battlefield.
Roen turned away from his.
Elira punched hers.
The voice laughed.
"Choose your truths. Or be lost in them."
Then the ground fractured, and they were falling again—
—until they landed, gasping, in the true vault. The Veiled Archive.
A single book hovered in the air. Bound in metal and starlight.
Aeren reached out—and the book whispered his name.
"Aeren Evernight… heir to the Hollow, child of the Flame… your story begins anew."
---
Back in the glacier's shadows, a figure in crimson smiled.
"The book is found," Aris said.
And from the mirror she watched, Kael's reflection looked back—
—and winked.