They made camp at the edge of a narrow ridge, where the land broke into steep slopes and shattered stone. The trees thinned here, their trunks pale and barkless, standing like old bones beneath a silver sky. Lira built a fire with practiced quiet. Kael sat nearby, staring into the flames.
"Are you cold?" she asked.
"No."
He was lying. But not about the fire.
He lay down that night beneath a sky with no stars, only pale clouds moving like restless ghosts. Lira curled up across from him, a thread of light from the dying fire tracing the edge of her silhouette.
Sleep came quickly, and with it, the dream.
Smoke. Screams. The sky burned, not with sunlight, but with the orange-red of flame licking across wooden towers and collapsing stone. He stood at the center of it, dressed in black with silver clasps running down his chest like stitched mirrors. People knelt before him, trembling.
"Hold the line," he commanded.
The soldiers obeyed instantly. Their armor bore the same silver sigil he'd seen in his earlier dream—the spiral fractured by thorns.
Then another figure approached. Not Lira. A boy, barely older than Kael, wearing robes marked with House colors. His eyes were wide, pleading.
"You promised us safe passage," the boy said.
"I promised nothing," Kael replied, voice sharp and cold.
The boy reached out. "We were allies."
Kael raised one hand.
"No," he said. "You were necessary. Now you're not."
At the gesture, two soldiers seized the boy and dragged him away. The boy screamed his name.
Not Kael.
Another name. A sharper name. One that started with R.
Kael couldn't hear the full word. The dream began to crackle around him, colors peeling away like old paint.
The last thing he saw was himself turning to watch the flames rise higher, mouth curved not in rage or sorrow, but calm.
Control.
He woke to silence, the fire out, his breath fast and cold in the air.
Lira was already sitting up, watching him with narrowed eyes.
"You dreamed again," she said.
Kael nodded slowly.
"I saw myself giving orders. I " he stopped, pressing fingers to his temples. "I was different. Completely. I was..."
"Dangerous?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.