The villagers stirred weakly as Kael and Elara moved among them, checking for injuries. The clearing, now eerily silent, was heavy with the stench of ash and charred earth. Kael wiped his brow, the exhaustion from the fight settling into his bones. Every movement felt like dragging a stone uphill, but the sight of the unconscious villagers kept him going.
"They're alive, but barely," Elara murmured, her voice tight with worry as she knelt beside a middle-aged woman whose breath came in shallow gasps. "Whatever those shadows were… they've drained them."
Kael glanced at the treeline where Eren had vanished, unease twisting in his gut. "They're lucky to have survived. Whatever Eren's become, he's not done with us."
Elara frowned, her hand hovering over the woman's arm. "Kael, what was he talking about? The Rupture, the lies—what does any of it mean?"
Kael hesitated, gripping the hilt of Veyrune. The blade hung at his side, its once-brilliant glow now dulled, as though it shared his exhaustion. "I don't know," he admitted. "But if Eren thinks he's the only one with answers, he's wrong."
By the time they reached the remnants of the village, the sun was beginning to rise, though its light was weak, veiled by a layer of smoke and haze. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of dying fires. Kael and Elara had managed to rouse the villagers enough to walk, though their pace was slow.
The once-familiar streets were unrecognizable. Buildings that had stood for generations were reduced to skeletal frames, their walls blackened and crumbling. The statue in the village square was shattered, its head lying face down in the dirt, a cruel mockery of the protection it had once symbolized.
Kael stopped near the fountain, his eyes scanning the destruction. He had grown up here. Every stone, every street had once been a part of him. Now it was gone.
"Kael," Elara said softly, touching his arm. "We should keep moving."
He nodded, forcing himself to look away. "We'll head to the old shelter near the barn. It's intact enough to hold everyone until we figure out what's next."
The barn was one of the few structures still standing, though its roof sagged precariously, and the doors hung loose on their hinges. Inside, the air was damp and smelled of hay and ash. Kael helped the villagers settle in, his muscles aching from the effort. Elara worked beside him, her usual sharp remarks replaced by quiet determination.
As the last of the villagers lay down to rest, Kael leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the dirt floor. Veyrune rested across his knees, its weight oddly comforting.
Elara sat beside him, brushing soot from her face. "You need to rest," she said, though her tone lacked conviction. She looked as exhausted as he felt.
"There's no time for that," Kael replied. "Not while Eren's out there."
She sighed, her eyes fixed on the blade in his lap. "Veyrune… it's different, isn't it? More than just a weapon."
Kael ran a hand along the hilt, the metal cool under his fingers. "It was forged by the Order to channel magic, to enhance what's already there. But it's… temperamental. Every time I use it, it takes something from me. A piece of my strength, my life." He paused, his voice dropping. "Sometimes I think it has a will of its own."
Elara shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Then maybe you should stop using it."
Kael gave her a tired smile. "And let Eren win? That's not an option."
As the villagers slept, Kael slipped outside, the fresh air a welcome relief from the suffocating closeness of the barn. The night was quiet now, though the sky still bore the faint scars of the Rupture, streaks of unnatural light flickering in the distance.
He turned as Elara joined him, her footsteps soft on the dirt. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
Kael shook his head. "Too much to think about."
She crossed her arms, her gaze distant. "Do you think Eren's right? About the Rupture, about the Order?"
Kael frowned, the memory of Eren's words clawing at his mind. "I don't know. But whatever he believes, it's twisted. He used to be one of us, Elara. Now he's… something else."
Elara was silent for a moment, then said, "What if he's not entirely wrong? The Order kept secrets, Kael. We both know that. What if those secrets are the reason this happened?"
Kael turned to her, his expression hard. "Even if that's true, it doesn't justify what he's done. He's hurt too many people, betrayed too much."
"But what if we're fighting the wrong battle?" she pressed. "What if there's more to this than just stopping him?"
Kael didn't answer. The weight of her words settled over him like a shroud, but he couldn't bring himself to consider the possibility. Not yet.
The following morning, the villagers began to stir, their movements slow and pained. Kael and Elara helped where they could, offering water and reassurance, though their own exhaustion made it difficult to do much more.
As they worked, an elderly man approached Kael, his face lined with worry. "Moren," he said, using the name Kael's father had carried. "What happens now?"
Kael hesitated, the question weighing heavily on him. "We rebuild," he said finally. "But first, we need to understand what we're facing."
The man nodded, though his expression remained grim. "If Eren comes back…"
"He won't," Kael said firmly, though the conviction in his voice didn't reach his heart. "Not while I'm here."
Elara stepped beside him, her voice low. "We need to move, Kael. This place isn't safe."
He nodded reluctantly. "You're right. Once everyone's strong enough, we head for Caldrith Pass. The Order had an outpost there, a place we can regroup."
"And if it's not there anymore?" Elara asked.
Kael met her gaze, his own steady. "Then we find another way."
She nodded, though doubt flickered in her eyes. Together, they turned back to the villagers, the weight of the journey ahead pressing heavily on their shoulders.
That night, as the barn settled into uneasy silence, Kael sat alone by the fire he had built outside. Veyrune rested beside him, its runes faintly glowing in the dim light. He stared into the flames, his thoughts a tangled web of memories and questions.
Eren's words echoed in his mind. The world doesn't care about us. It's broken.
Kael clenched his fists. Broken or not, he wasn't going to let it fall. Not without a fight.
Far in the distance, the sky pulsed faintly with unnatural light, a reminder that Eren was still out there. Waiting. Planning.
Kael closed his eyes, the fire's warmth doing little to soothe the cold knot of resolve growing in his chest.