13. Blades and Burdens

Chapter Thirteen: Blades and Burdens

Even loyalty has a breaking point. Especially when love is the thing pulling it apart.

Kael hadn't prayed in years.

Not since the war took his brother. Not since the gods turned to silence. Not since faith had started to feel like a weapon aimed at his chest.

But that night, he found himself at the edge of the old temple ruins, kneeling among shattered stone and ash, whispering into the void.

"Don't let me lose him."

He didn't ask for forgiveness. Or strength. Or a miracle.

Just that.

Don't let me lose him.

When he returned to camp, Riven was gone.

The shard, too.

Kael didn't panic—he moved.

Soldiers tried to stop him. Mages called after him. Olivia cursed under her breath and chased after him barefoot, but Kael was already halfway to the ridge by the time they caught up.

"He's heading toward the burial grounds," Olivia said, breathless.

Kael's jaw clenched. "That's where she was first summoned."

"Then why would he—"

"Because he's trying to finish what he started."

Riven stood in the center of a circle of old stones, the shard now fully exposed, its glow pulsing like a dark heartbeat. Runes etched into the ground shimmered with unstable flame. The ground cracked under his feet.

He didn't look up as Kael approached.

"You shouldn't be here," he said softly.

Kael ignored the warning.

"You were going to leave without saying anything?"

"I didn't want to risk it. You saw what happened—I'm not safe anymore."

Kael stepped closer. "You were never safe. That's why I stayed."

"I could've killed you."

"But you didn't."

Riven's hands shook. "I felt her. Inside me. Like vines wrapping around my ribs. Like something waiting to snap. She's getting stronger."

"Then we fight her together."

Riven turned.

His eyes burned—not just with fire, but guilt.

"I can't ask you to do that. You're the commander. The one everyone follows. If you die—"

"I'll die doing what matters."

Riven's voice cracked. "You matter to me."

Kael stepped inside the circle.

Their foreheads touched. The world tilted.

"Then let me carry the burden with you."

A sound snapped behind them.

A sword unsheathed.

Olivia stood at the edge of the stone circle, flanked by two members of the Mage Council.

"Step away from him, Kael."

Kael didn't move. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping this before it kills all of us."

"Riven isn't the enemy."

"He will be. You've seen the signs. The fire's inside him. That shard is a ticking bomb."

Riven didn't resist.

He let the shard fall.

"I'll surrender it."

"No," Kael barked. "We're not doing this."

"He's right," Riven said quietly. "I can feel her more every day. I need to end this before she uses me."

Olivia looked torn. "There's another way."

"Then find it fast."

They returned to camp under watch.

The shard was locked in a mage-sealed wardstone. Riven was put under soft guard, allowed to move freely—but never alone.

Kael stayed with him that night.

Not as a guard.

As something else.

Something more.

The tent was quiet, but the tension between them screamed.

Kael pulled off his armor piece by piece, not meeting Riven's eyes until he was down to his undershirt.

Riven watched him. "You still trust me?"

Kael turned. "Every second I breathe."

Riven stood.

They met in the middle of the tent.

"I don't know what's going to happen," Riven whispered. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

Kael cupped his face. "Then lean on me."

And when their mouths met—it wasn't hurried or desperate.

It was slow.

Certain.

Scars brushed scars. Fingers tangled in hair. Clothes slid away, one piece at a time, until there was nothing between them but the steady beat of two terrified hearts.

That night wasn't about lust.

It was about choosing.

Even in the shadow of war.

Even when the world could end.

Kael kissed a trail down Riven's spine. Riven trembled beneath him, and Kael held him like he was something worth saving.

And for once, Riven let himself believe it.

But across the camp, in the dark halls of the mage's tent—

—the shard pulsed again.

And something cracked.

Not the stone.

Not the seal.

Something deeper.

Something old.

And very, very awake.