Ash and Memory (Nyra’s POV)

The night air smelled like rust and lightning.

Nyra stood on the broken rooftop of the Arkenspire's observatory, her cloak fluttering around her boots. Below her, Solara shimmered faintly, flickering with new light, like a corpse remembering how to breathe.

Kael was inside, resting. He didn't know she'd left.

BITS had powered down for "emotional recharge," whatever that meant.

She needed the quiet.

Needed the space.

Because Solara was alive again.

And that meant he might be, too.

---

Her brother's voice echoed in her memory:

> "You won't understand now, Nyra. But one day… you'll need to choose whether to run or to build. I'm building. Even if it kills me."

She had been sixteen when he disappeared.

And she had chosen to run.

Not because she was weak—but because she had seen the Core's glow in his eyes and knew it had changed him.

Everyone thought Lioran died in the Fall.

But Nyra had always believed differently.

Now, standing in the heart of the city he once protected, she felt closer to him than ever before. The data trails he left behind, the secret messages, the Starkey... all of it pointed to a plan. And Kael was part of it.

Maybe the most important part.

But what scared her wasn't Malrix, or the relics, or even the broken city.

What scared her... was that she was beginning to care again.

---

She watched Kael when he wasn't looking. How he held the Starkey like it was too heavy. How he joked to hide the pressure. How his blade flickered when he was afraid.

He was trying to be strong.

But he didn't know what strength meant here—not yet.

In Solara, strength had always come with sacrifice.

Nyra knew that too well.

---

A sound broke her thoughts.

Metal scraping stone.

She didn't hesitate—blade in hand in one breath, crouched in another.

A figure approached from the north ledge—hooded, slow.

She held her ground.

"Name."

The figure stopped.

Then lowered their hood.

It was Kesh.

"You really don't sleep, do you?" he said.

She narrowed her eyes. "You followed me."

"I sensed the vault stirring again. I thought you might need company."

She relaxed a little. Just a little.

He sat cross-legged on a cracked beam, watching her. "You care about him."

Nyra didn't respond.

Kesh tilted his head. "Kael. You're not just his guide anymore."

"He's dangerous," she said flatly. "The city listens to him. The relics answer him."

"And yet," Kesh replied, "he listens to you."

That made her pause.

---

She looked up at the floating towers. "My brother believed the world could be saved if the right people stood in the right places at the right time."

"And you?"

She exhaled. "I believe in people who bleed for others, not for thrones."

Kesh smiled. "Then Kael might be exactly what Solara needs."

---

Later, she returned inside.

Kael sat alone in the Relay chamber, tracing the carvings on the throne-like platform. The Starkey lay beside him, glowing faintly.

"You ever wonder what your life would be like if Solara hadn't fallen?" he asked without looking up.

Nyra leaned against the wall. "Every day."

He looked up. "Would we have met?"

She shrugged. "You'd probably be some rich relic heir with perfect teeth and no sense of sarcasm."

"And you?"

She smiled faintly. "Causing problems, probably. I didn't believe in relics then. I believed in fighting for people who couldn't fight back."

He nodded. "You still do."

There was a pause.

Then Kael added, quieter, "I don't know who I'm supposed to be."

Nyra stepped forward, sat beside him. "Then don't be what they expect. Be what you choose."

He looked at her.

And for the first time, she let him see the soft edge beneath her steel.

"Lioran said I'd have to choose between running or building," she said. "I ran. For years."

Kael nodded. "And now?"

She met his eyes.

"I think I'm ready to build. With you."

---

Outside, thunder cracked.

Malrix had reached the city.

---