The Rusted Antler Inn—a decaying waystation left behind in the Greyhorn Pass—began its morning in pale ash-gray. Light filtered through gaps in the roof, drawing thin lines across the weathered floorboards. Elara woke on a blanket against the wall and stared at the ceiling for a while. The sensation from last night still lingered in her palm. When she'd touched Kael's arm to check the wound, that low body temperature. After breaking the suture prohibition and approaching the Seam of Lamentation, his warmth had never fully returned to human heat. It had remained ever since—a small weight lodged deep in her chest. Elara rose quietly and looked toward Kael. He was already awake, leaning against the wall. The black of his eye patch, silver-gray hair falling across his cheek. His jade eye turned toward her. "...Your body temperature," Elara said. Kael paused for a beat, then spoke quietly. "It's returned." As if to confirm, Elara reached out her right hand. She touched Kael's right arm—the place she'd wrapped with cloth last night—gently. Warm. Different from last night. Human heat was there, properly there. Through her fingertips, Elara received that fact. A relief without a name spread quietly through her lungs. Kael said nothing. He didn't pull his arm away. They stayed like that for just a moment. "—What are you two doing at this hour?" Mira's voice came from the entrance, and both looked up at once. Mira stood in the doorway. She'd apparently gathered firewood from outside; thin branches were bundled in her arms. Her emerald-green eyes moved between Elara and Kael alternately. Elara withdrew her hand. Her face felt slightly warm. "Checking the wound," Elara said. "...I see," Mira replied. Mira set the firewood down on the floor and spoke briefly. She didn't seem disbelieving, but her expression was like she was swallowing something. Once the fire was lit, Mira laid out travel rations. Dried grain bricks and thinly dried meat. Kael picked up a grain brick and tapped it once, testing its rock-hard consistency. He said nothing, but Elara read the meaning in his silence. (He can't eat that.) Mira seemed to think the same. Without a word, she pulled out the leftover stew from last night from her pack and set the small pot directly in front of Kael. Kael paused for a moment, looking at the pot. Then he silently accepted it. Elara felt her lips relax slightly. This was how Mira was at times like these—she didn't use words. But she delivered something, certainly. As they prepared to leave, Elara quietly clenched her left hand. The star-shaped mark held a faint warmth. A subtle pulse continuing from last night. The distance to the Ashen Spire—the ruined fortress positioned roughly eight kilometers east of the Seam of Lamentation, in the deepest part of the Morlune Great Forest—was drawing closer. Her body knew it first. ◇ The Morlune Great Forest did not let morning light through. Conifers overlapped densely, and the sky was visible only in thin fragments. The damp smell of humus and moss, the low sound of dead branches underfoot with each step. The three moved forward toward the spire with few words. Less than half an hour after entering the forest, a human figure appeared in the shadows ahead. Kael immediately drew Frostbite. Mira's hand went to the tool pouch at her waist. Elara gathered magic thinly in her left hand. The shadow moved. It was small. A thin boy. Around fourteen years old, perhaps. Tattered clothes, a face dirty with soil, but eyes that were oddly sharp. Mira said quietly, "...I saw him at the Feryn cargo yard." That was right. Only Mira had seen that child. Elara had no memory of it, but Mira's eyes didn't lie. The boy raised both hands. No weapons. "I have something to tell you," the boy said. His voice was calmer than expected. Not trembling. That made Elara's guard strengthen all the more. Kael kept Frostbite raised and asked curtly. "Your name." "Tome," the boy replied. Tome continued. He was at the bottom of the Shadow Fragrance Cult—a secret society established eight years ago by the former noble Silas—he said. Mira's eyes sharpened. Kael's expression didn't change. Elara felt the heat in her left hand strengthen slightly. Tome spoke of three things. First. The ritual's date was approaching within days. Second. Silas had been investigating the nature of Elara's magical power over a long time. Third. Most of the cult members were exhausted by the cost of black magic—the forbidden technique of combining magic with the lingering emotions of the dead. "Why tell us?" Kael asked, keeping Frostbite raised, speaking only those words. Tome was silent for a moment. "I thought I could bring back my dead brother. But...something feels wrong," Tome said. The moment Kael heard those words, the line between his brows deepened slightly. Elara noticed. Noticed, but couldn't say anything. Was this a trap or the truth? There was no way to verify. Kael stared at Tome, paused briefly, then spoke quietly. "Go ahead. Guide us to the spire." Tome nodded. The three decided to follow the boy's back. ◇ When the Ashen Spire came into view, Elara was first overwhelmed by the blackness. Not the black of a building. The black of mist. A dense black fog covered the entire outer wall of the ruined fortress. She understood it was the result of magic that had leaked from the Seam of Lamentation, condensed over long years, but even knowing it as knowledge, her body reacted first when she saw it before her eyes. The mark on her left hand pulsed violently. A presence came from within the mist. Large. Multiple. "Three bodies, or perhaps five," Kael said quietly, raising Frostbite. The moment the blade touched the black mist, the magic reacted, releasing pale white light—the fragments of magic crystals that Mira had secretly forged were answering even now. Erosion Beasts—entities formed when magic leaking from the Seam of Lamentation solidified in response to strong human negative emotions—tore through the mist and appeared. Kael moved forward. Standing before two large individuals, he swung Frostbite horizontally. White light split the black bodies, and the beasts made grinding sounds. Both turned toward Kael simultaneously. That was the plan—the attention of the three behind them scattered for a moment. "Now!" Mira shouted. Mira pulled something from her tool pouch. A handmade rotating lamp—short iron chains with multiple magic crystal fragments attached. As she swung the chain in wide arcs, the crystals traced arcs from centrifugal force, releasing irregular light in all directions. The presence of the Erosion Beasts wavered. They had a habit of reacting to light—Mira had learned this through her body on the battlefield. The attention of the three was drawn to the rotating lamp, their movements becoming erratic. Elara opened her left hand. She drew in magic. She thought of that root of light she'd touched through the Seam's emotional echoes. The sensation of a hand extended toward someone, the memory of love that once was—she passed it through as a conduit. Not a furnace, but a conduit. White light pierced one of the Erosion Beasts. The creature dissipated. Black-purple crystal fragments scattered across the ground. As Mira's rotating lamp swayed, the second beast's attention turned toward Elara. It was large—it didn't dissipate. "Right!" Mira shouted. Mira threw the rotating lamp. The arc of light ran across the beast's flank. For a moment, the creature's outline wavered. In that gap, Elara passed the light through. Another beast dissipated. Kael was holding the two in front with Frostbite. The white light of the blade traced arcs repeatedly. The remaining one—Elara guided it with light, combined it with Mira's rotating lamp, and pushed it into the mist. No words were needed. Their movements fit together naturally. The mist began to clear. In that moment, a large individual grazed Kael's right arm. Frostbite was knocked away, and Kael's body nearly collapsed—Elara rushed over, pulled the collapsing body, and entered the shadow of rubble. Two of them alone, in narrow darkness. Outside, the sound of Erosion Beast residue dissipating. Mira seemed to be applying the rotating lamp to the last one. Blood was coming from Kael's right arm. The wound wasn't deep. But it overlapped with the wound he'd already sustained, and his body was tilting. "Go ahead," Kael said quietly. Elara didn't move. "I won't," she said. She was a little surprised at herself. There was no hesitation. Before, she wouldn't have been able to speak such a definitive negation with such certainty. But now, she knew that being here was the answer. Kael's jade eyes looked at Elara. There was something in them that measured, but also something slightly different. Mira called from beyond the rubble. "It's done. We can move." ◇ The interior of the ruined fortress was silent. The moment they stepped into the great hall on the second floor, Elara felt the quality of the air change. Cold. Magic was saturated throughout. The stone walls were stained black, and thin mist flowed in from what had once been windows. A man was there. Standing before a crumbling pillar at the far end of the great hall. Tall, thin. Long silver-gray hair fell to his shoulders, white streaking it in places. Deep reddish-brown eyes. Deep shadows carved around his left eye, and within that eye, a faint trembling light—pale black mist drifted slowly around him. The man opened his mouth. "It's been a long time, Kael," Silas said. His voice was quiet. It had dignity. Like speaking from a podium, drawing in the listener. But the moment those words' weight turned toward Kael— Kael's body went rigid as stone. Elara looked at his profile. His jade eyes were fixed on the man. Something was peeling away from his usually controlled expression. Silas continued. Quietly, but measuring each word carefully. "Do you remember the night of the plague twelve years ago? In the Voldern family's territory—I too lost my wife. My daughter. The same night, the same disease," Silas said. Silence fell over the great hall. Within Elara, something was assembling itself. The twelve years Kael hadn't spoken of. The fragments that had reached her during their travels—that low body temperature, the quality of his silence, what was hidden beneath the eye patch—they rose up with a single form. The same night. The same place. Two men who chose entirely different paths from the same grief. "I chose to take them back. You chose to run," Silas said. Kael didn't answer. But his grip on Frostbite's hilt was white-knuckled. Elara kept looking at Kael's profile. She felt like she was seeing him unable to speak like this for the first time. Silas's gaze moved to Elara. His reddish-brown eyes quietly captured her. Not observing—confirming. That kind of gaze. "Young lady. I have spent a long time investigating the nature of your magical power," Silas said. Elara didn't move. "Not the grief of loss—but weaving magic from the memory of love for the lost. That is the kind of practitioner needed for this forbidden ritual," Silas said. The words pierced her. The contours of her magic's true nature were being verbalized by another person for the first time. It was a strange sensation. Her mother's words from the journal came to mind. Light doesn't become stronger through loss—and Silas's words overlapped with that. Mira said quietly, "...Elara." That was all. But there was something in her voice. ◇ Kael raised Frostbite. Silas raised his right hand. Black mist gathered along his arm, taking form—the magic control of black magic held a density far beyond individual skill. Combat began. Kael stepped forward. The white light of Frostbite split Silas's mist. But Silas didn't move a step. The mist enveloped the blade, and magic began to erode it. The brilliance of the white light weakened gradually. Mira s