The night’s flames had died, but the smoke lingered. A gray veil drifted over the Hollow as dawn struggled to pierce the haze. The Regent’s pyre still smoldered in the square, sending up thin, curling wisps that stung the eyes and clung to the air.
Kael stood at the edge of the square, his figure outlined against the fading embers. His dark cloak carried the smell of soot, and the chains at his waist rattled softly whenever the breeze stirred them. The boy stood close by, shoulders hunched against the chill.
“It still smells like fire,” the boy muttered, pulling the collar of his tunic higher.
Kael’s eyes remained on the dying flames. “The city’s shedding its old skin. Change always leaves smoke behind.”
They turned from the pyre and walked through streets that had not yet decided whet
