Kael’s New Path

The road stretched before him, a sinuous ribbon of packed earth winding through the mist-laden hills like a serpent unsure of its own direction. Kael walked it mechanically, his boots scuffing against the dirt, kicking up faint clouds of dust that mingled with the damp air.

His mind was as clouded as the sky above.

Gray.

Heavy.

Impenetrable.

He had no destination, no orders to follow, no war to march back to. For the first time since he'd gripped a blade as a boy, he was no one. Not a soldier. Not a weapon. Not the Executioner of the Rift.

Just… Kael.

The villages he passed were small, scattered clusters of humanity clinging to survival. Thatched roofs sagged under the weight of age and neglect, patched haphazardly with straw and mud. Once, his presence would have sent the villagers scurrying like frightened mice—doors slamming, shutters snapping shut, whispers of dread trailing in his wake.