Chapter 21 - Wasn't Meant to Live

The northern highlands were nothing like the kingdom's polished cities.

They were vast, cold, and empty.

Kieran moved through the winding roads, his cloak pulled tight against the howling winds.

Hollow's Rest was still two days away.

And in that time, he had to prepare.

Because if Veyren Marrow was alive—he would not be easy to find.

And if the Keepers were already watching?

They would not let him find Veyren easily.

Kieran took the less-traveled paths, avoiding the main roads.

Even now, he could feel it.

Something watching from the treetops.

Not men.

Not the Keepers.

Something older.

The land here was untouched by the kingdom's rule.

There were things in these forests that didn't belong to any history book.

Things best left undisturbed.

And yet, Kieran was walking straight into their domain.

On the evening of the second day, Kieran caught his first glimpse of Hollow's Rest.

A small, crumbling village, half-swallowed by the wilderness.

Wooden houses sagged under the weight of time.

The air was thick with mist and silence.

This was a place that had been forgotten.

Erased.

And yet—

Someone was still living here.

Because there was a single lantern burning at the center of the village.

And that meant Kieran wasn't alone.

Kieran moved carefully, his footsteps silent against the damp ground.

No sounds of life.

No voices.

No children.

This village wasn't just abandoned—it had been emptied.

And that meant one of two things.

Either the people had fled.

Or something had taken them.

He kept moving.

The lantern was still burning, flickering against the fog.

A sign of someone waiting.

Or someone watching.

And Kieran had a strong feeling—it was the latter.

As Kieran stepped closer, he saw him.

A man sitting near the fire, wrapped in a thick, fur-lined cloak.

His face was hidden under a hood.

He was alone.

Completely still.

As if he had been expecting Kieran.

Kieran stopped a few feet away.

"Veyren Marrow?"

The man did not move.

For a long moment, there was only silence.

Then—

"You came sooner than I expected."

His voice was rough. Tired.

Not weak.

Not afraid.

Just… worn.

Like a man who had been running from something for far too long.

Kieran watched him carefully.

The firelight flickered across the man's hands—scarred and weathered.

A warrior's hands.

But his movements were calm.

Controlled.

Not someone who had given up.

Someone who was waiting for the right moment to act.

"They sent you to kill me, didn't they?" Veyren finally asked.

Kieran exhaled.

"Yes."

No point in lying.

Not to a man like this.

Veyren chuckled softly.

"Then why haven't you drawn your blade?"

Kieran sat down across from him.

"Because I think we have the same enemies."

Veyren finally lifted his head, his hood casting long shadows across his face.

His eyes were sharp—piercing green, cold as steel.

"You don't even know who your enemies are, boy."

Kieran smirked.

"That's why I came to find you."

Veyren studied him for a long moment.

Then, he sighed.

"The Keepers. The nobles. The war council."

"They think they rule the kingdom."

His gaze darkened.

"But they're just watching over a corpse."

Kieran's pulse slowed.

"What do you mean?"

Veyren exhaled, rubbing his temple.

"You know the war never ended."

Kieran nodded.

"But you don't know why."

A pause.

Then—

"Because the ones we fought never truly left."

Kieran stilled.

Veyren's voice was quiet, but sharp as a knife.

"They've been waiting, Kieran."

"And soon, they'll return."

Kieran felt the weight of his words settle into his chest.

He had always suspected it.

The war had been buried, but something still remained.

Something the nobles refused to acknowledge.

Something the Keepers were still trying to silence.

"What are they?" Kieran asked.

Veyren's fingers tightened around his cloak.

"I don't know. And I don't think anyone does."

His expression darkened.

"But I know this—"

He gestured around them, to the empty village.

"Hollow's Rest wasn't abandoned. It was erased."

"Every man, woman, and child—gone overnight."

Kieran's stomach tightened.

This wasn't just about the past anymore.

The war wasn't just something that had been erased.

It was still happening.

And soon—

It was about to begin again.

Veyren's voice was low.

"The Keepers don't care about the truth. They care about control."

"If people knew what was coming, there would be panic. Rebellion."

His eyes met Kieran's.

"That's why they erased me."

"That's why they erased you."

Kieran exhaled.

"Then it's time we remind them that we're still here."

Veyren's lips curled into a slow, grim smile.

"And what do you propose?"

Kieran's voice was steady.

"We strike first."

Because for the first time since he had returned—

Kieran finally understood.

This wasn't about revenge anymore.

This was about finishing what had been started.

The war was coming.

And this time, he wouldn't let history repeat itself.

The fire crackled between them, casting long shadows across the abandoned village.

Kieran watched Veyren Marrow carefully.

This was a man who had outlived his own execution.

A man who had survived a war meant to be forgotten.

And now, he was staring at Kieran like he had seen a ghost.

Or worse—

Like he had seen something inevitable.

Veyren ran a hand through his greying hair, exhaling slowly.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Kieran leaned back against the ruined bench, smirking.

"You sound like someone who expected me to show up eventually."

Veyren chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

"No one like us stays buried forever, Kieran. Not really."

His green eyes flickered in the firelight.

"You were bound to claw your way back. Just like I did."

Kieran tilted his head.

"You said the war never ended. That something was still out there."

Veyren nodded.

"What do you know?"

A pause.

Then—

"Not enough."

Veyren's jaw clenched, as if he hated the answer as much as Kieran did.

"But I know one thing for certain—the enemy never truly left."

"They are still watching. Still waiting. And when they return—we won't be ready."

Kieran felt a slow, creeping cold settle into his spine.

Because he believed him.

Kieran exhaled sharply.

"The Keepers sent me to kill you."

Veyren smirked.

"I figured."

He stirred the fire with a piece of wood, his movements slow, deliberate.

"They must be desperate if they sent someone like you."

Kieran raised an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Veyren gave him a knowing look.

"They think you can still be controlled. That you can be turned into a weapon."

His smirk widened.

"They don't realize you're already pointed in the wrong direction."

Kieran chuckled.

"Then let's make sure they regret it."

Veyren leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You've stirred the hornet's nest, Kieran. The Keepers won't wait for you to fail this mission. They'll be watching, waiting to see if you actually follow through."

"Which means we have one chance to use that against them."

Kieran nodded slowly.

"We fake your death."

Veyren smirked.

"I knew I liked you."

Kieran's mind raced through the details.

The Keepers expected a corpse.

If they believed Veyren was dead, they wouldn't be looking for him.

Which meant he would be free to move in the shadows.

To strike where they least expected.

"We make it messy," Kieran said. "A fire. A body too burned to be identified."

Veyren nodded.

"And what about you?"

"I deliver proof of your death. Something they can't question."

Kieran paused.

Then, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a dagger.

Not just any dagger.

A war council seal blade.

Given to assassins for executions meant to be unquestioned.

Veyren's eyebrows lifted.

"Where did you get that?"

Kieran smirked.

"Let's just say I know a guy."

Hollow's Rest was already a ghost town.

It would take one night to make it look like a massacre.

Kieran and Veyren worked in silence.

Abandoned buildings were burned.

Tracks were left in the mud—a staged battle.

And in the ruins of an old inn, they placed a body.

Not Veyren.

A corpse from the forest—already rotted beyond recognition.

And on its chest, Kieran drove the dagger deep.

A sign for the Keepers.

A message.

"Your mission is complete."

A perfect lie.

By dawn, Hollow's Rest was nothing more than smoldering ruins.

Kieran and Veyren stood on a ridge overlooking the village, watching the smoke curl into the sky.

"That should buy us time," Veyren said.

"Not much," Kieran admitted. "But enough."

Veyren exhaled.

"So what now?"

Kieran turned to him, his expression sharp.

"Now, we do what the Keepers fear most."

Veyren raised an eyebrow.

"And what's that?"

Kieran smirked.

"We start asking the right questions."

Veyren shook his head, chuckling softly.

"You really are insane, aren't you?"

Kieran grinned.

"A little."

Veyren sighed, then extended his hand.

"Fine. Let's burn their world together."

Kieran clasped his wrist.

"Let's."

Because now, he wasn't alone.

Now, the Keepers had two ghosts hunting them.

And soon—

The war they buried would finally resurface.