Chapter 89 | Flight | Kael
They flew for two days and two nights.
Not in a straight line. Kael led Leah along the mountains, using the terrain for cover, avoiding possible tracking. They rested in caves during the day and flew at night—the silver moonlight gave Leah's wings energy, and the dark red night sky hid Kael's wings.
The northern wind was much colder than in the capital, carrying the breath of ice and snow, like countless tiny needles stabbing into their skin. The mountains looked silver-gray in the moonlight, like the spines of sleeping giants, rolling and stretching endlessly. The air was thick with the sharp smell of pine and the coldness of ore—every breath felt like swallowing crushed ice.
"Tired?" On the second night, Kael asked. His voice came through the Bloodbond, not in words but as a feeling—concern, worry, and a hint of pride he didn't even notice himself.
"A little," Leah said honestly. Her silver-white wings looked like two tired moons in the moonlight, each beat heavier than the last. The moonstone necklace at her throat flickered with a faint light, giving her the last bit of energy.
"Rest."
"No," she said. "Let's fly a bit more."
Kael looked at her. Through the Bloodbond, he could feel her exhaustion—not physical, but mental. After the Progenitor Awakening, she could sense every shift in the bloodline network, and now—
The network's movements were getting stronger. The nodes in the north were disappearing faster, like lights going out one by one. Each disappearance came with a faint pain that passed through the Bloodbond into Leah's mind, like countless tiny needles pricking her nerves.
"You can feel it?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, her voice very soft, like a fallen leaf floating on water. "They're calling."
"Calling?"
"The call before they disappear," she said. Her silver-gray eyes shone like two gems in the moonlight, flashing with painful light. "Every node sends out one last pulse before it disappears. Like—"
She paused.
"Like a drowning person coming up for air one last time," she said.
Kael's heart hurt.
Not because of what she said. Because he didn't know what comforting words to say. For three thousand years, he had learned countless fighting skills, countless political tricks, countless—
countless ways to kill people.
But he had never learned how to comfort someone who could feel other people's pain.
"Leah."
"Mm?"
"When we get to the ruins—" he said, his voice dropping, coming from somewhere far away, "no matter what happens, remember one thing."
"What?"
"You're not alone," he said. "Not some island in the network. You're—"
He paused. Wind rushed up from below their wings, lifting their bodies like a pair of invisible hands.
"Mine," he said, his voice so low it was almost covered by the wind. "Mine."
Leah turned to look at him.
Moonlight danced in her silver-gray eyes like two small flames. The corners of her mouth lifted—not a big smile, but that quiet smile that came from the eyes. That smile held exhaustion, pain, and something deeper.
"I know," she said.
They kept flying. The outline of the northern mountains grew clearer ahead, like a row of sleeping dragons. The air was thick with a strange smell—not the dryness of the wilderness, but something colder, more ancient.
Shadow.
That smell carried rot, like a basement that hadn't seen light in thousands of years, like a grave forgotten by time. Kael knew this smell. For three thousand years, he had smelled it countless times on battlefields—and it always came with death.
"Almost there," Kael said, his ice-blue vertical pupils scanning ahead. His wings adjusted their angle, folding into a more streamlined shape, ready to land.
"Where?"
"The edge of the ruins," he said. "I can feel—"
His words stopped.
Because ahead, in the moonlight, a silver light appeared.
Not a reflection of moonlight. Not stars. It was—
a barrier. A barrier made of silver runes, stretching across the entire valley like a huge mirror. The runes flowed through the air like liquid moonlight, like an ancient song.
"That's—" Leah's voice shook.
"The defense array of the Progenitor ruins," Kael said. "After three thousand years, it's still running."
They landed in front of the barrier.
Silver runes flowed through the air like liquid moonlight. Leah reached out, and the moment her fingertip touched the barrier—
The runes lit up.
Not pushing back. Welcoming.
Like a door that had been closed for three thousand years, finally waiting for its owner.
"It's inviting me in," Leah said, her voice very soft, like she was dreaming.
"Then go in," Kael said, gripping her hand tightly.
They passed through the barrier.
Silver light swallowed them.
Then—
They saw.