KAEL
The sun rose over ash.
The ridges were still smoldering. Our wounded had been dragged back to the healer’s tents, and our dead buried in hurried rows behind the hill. Their graves were marked with simple stones, nothing more. There was no time for rituals, only resolve.
I couldn’t sit still.
I wasn’t healed, not by a long shot. The silver burned through my ribs still throbbed every time I moved, but that didn’t stop me from wrapping the wound tight, gritting my teeth, and walking to the training yard.
The camp stirred quietly as I passed. Heads dipped in respect. No one dared stop me, not even Mashik, who stood leaning against the edge of the weapons rack, arms crossed.
“You shouldn’t be up,” he said.
“Noted.”
“Kael.”
I grabbed a staff from the rack and stepped into the ring
