The return to Highridge was not marked by cheers or fanfare. Though victory had been claimed at Shadelake, the truth left a sour weight on every soldier’s chest. Jalen, the boy who bore the cursed flame, remained in the Hollow’s care, locked beneath layers of spell and runes designed by Myrra herself.
Kaelin hadn’t slept in three nights.
She stood at the edge of the observation tower, the wind pulling at her cloak. Below, Seren played in the garden with Elira watching close. Theron approached quietly, arms crossed, a scroll in his hand.
"They’ve called for a Council," he said.
Kaelin didn’t turn. "Let me guess. Garric, Selene, Lord Vessar, and a dozen others who think we’ve hidden too much."
"You’re right," he said. "They demand answers. The boy. The Flameborn. The Heartshard."
She e
