Kaelin’s trial was simpler.
She stood in a field of silver grass, facing her brother.
He was whole. Alive. Smiling.
He held out his hand.
“Stay here. Don’t go back. The truth will break you.”
Kaelin wept. She had longed to hear his voice for years.
But she looked down at the mark on her palm and saw it was fading.
If she stayed, she would forget.
If she stayed, she would be lost.
She kissed her brother’s hand.
“I miss you. But I won’t let this lie grow any deeper.”
She stepped past him.
And the grass turned to air.
The other four faced their memories.
One was lost.
Two returned broken, silent.
One, a quiet rider named Yunis, returned changed.
His skybeast had grown six wings.
He did not speak.
But the obelisk flared again when he passed.
Anvil, Kaelin, and Yunis were no
