Kael's words hung in the air, their weight threatening to crush the fragile calm between them. Mira froze her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Kael steadied himself against the counter, his amber eyes locking onto hers. "I didn't realize it at first," he admitted, his voice thick with something Mira couldn't quite place. Regret? Guilt? "But when I delved into your memories, I felt it—the tether that connects us. It was there, woven into the fabric of your connection with Daniel. The same tether I've spent centuries searching for."

"No." Mira shook her head, her voice rising. "No, that doesn't make sense. Daniel was real. He was human. He—he wasn't you."

Kael's expression softened, but his gaze remained steady. "I wasn't him in the way you think. I didn't possess him or control him. But his soul—his essence—was mine. It was... fragmented, a piece of me sent into the world. I suspect it's the reason we found each other."

"That's not possible," she said, her voice cracking. "Daniel was his own person. He had dreams, memories, a life. You're saying all of that was just... borrowed from you?"

Kael took a hesitant step toward her, his movements slow, almost cautious. "Not borrowed. Shared. Daniel was as real as you or I, but his existence was tied to mine in ways I never understood until now. I didn't know, Mira. I swear to you, I didn't know."

Mira stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to process his words. The room seemed to tilt around her, the walls closing in. She backed away, her hands trembling as she pressed them against her temples. "You're lying," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You have to be lying."

Kael flinched as if her words had struck him. "I wish I were," he said softly. "For your sake, I wish this wasn't true. But you deserve to know everything, no matter how painful."

Mira's legs gave out, and she sank into a chair, her head in her hands. The weight of Kael's revelation threatened to crush her, the ground beneath her feet crumbling into an abyss of uncertainty.

"I need you to leave," she said finally, her voice muffled but firm.

Kael hesitated, his eyes filled with an ache he couldn't hide. "Mira—"

"Leave!" she snapped, her head snapping up as she glared at him. "I can't do this right now. Just... go."

He stared at her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, with a nod that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Mira alone with the storm raging in her mind.

The door clicked shut behind Kael, and the silence that followed was deafening. Mira sat frozen, her hands trembling in her lap. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the man she had loved with the truth Kael had just revealed. The idea that Daniel, her Daniel, had somehow been connected to Kael in ways she couldn't comprehend made her stomach churn.

Her gaze fell on the coffee mug still sitting on the table, the liquid inside gone cold. It was a small, insignificant thing, but its presence grounded her in the moment. She wrapped her fingers around it, the cool ceramic a stark contrast to the heat simmering inside her.

"He wasn't lying," she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't ignore the memories Kael had shared with her. They had felt too real, too raw to be fabrications.

She thought back to Daniel's last days, to the way he had seemed... different. There had been a restlessness in him, a tension she couldn't explain at the time. Was that when the tether had started to unravel? Had Kael's essence, or whatever it was, begun to resurface?

Tears welled in her eyes as the memories flooded back. The way Daniel had held her that last morning, his embrace lingering as though he knew it would be their last. The way he had whispered her name like a prayer before walking out the door.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she murmured, her voice breaking. She wasn't sure if the question was meant for Daniel or Kael—or if there was even a difference anymore.

Mira buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled by the quiet hum of the rain outside. For the first time since Daniel's death, she felt utterly, irrevocably alone.

Kael stepped out into the cool night, the rain a soothing patter against the cobblestone street. He had no destination in mind, only the need to escape the suffocating weight of Mira's anguish. The city was alive around him—glimmers of light reflecting in puddles, distant laughter from warm taverns—but none of it penetrated the haze clouding his thoughts.

As he walked, a strange sensation crept over him. It was subtle at first—a faint tingling in his fingertips, a vague unease curling in his stomach. He slowed his pace, glancing at his hands. They trembled faintly, an unfamiliar and unwelcome sign of weakness.

Then it hit him.

A sharp, searing pain lanced through his skull, and the world tilted violently. His vision blurred, the edges of buildings bleeding into one another like watercolors in the rain. Kael stumbled, clutching a nearby lamppost to steady himself. His nose began to bleed—not the radiant gold of his immortal essence, but a deep, mortal crimson that dripped onto the wet pavement.

"What... is this?" he rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

The ground swayed beneath him, and Kael knew he wouldn't last long in this state. With a shaking hand, he summoned the remnants of his strength, tracing a sigil in the air. The rain seemed to part around him as the sigil flared, and a portal opened before him, its edges shimmering with pale light.

He stumbled through, collapsing onto the cold, obsidian floor of his sanctum. The portal snapped shut behind him, leaving the room cloaked in silence. His vision dimmed, and the last thing he saw was the faint glow of the scrying mirror in the distance before darkness claimed him.

Kael woke hours later to the dim light of his sanctum. His body felt heavy, his head pounding with a relentless ache. He lay motionless for a moment, gathering his strength, before pushing himself upright. The floor was slick with blood—his blood. The sight of it, crimson and mortal, sent a shiver down his spine.

"This shouldn't be possible," he murmured, his voice hoarse. He staggered to his feet, gripping the edge of a nearby table for support.

Kael's thoughts raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. Something was wrong, something beyond his understanding. He needed answers, and there was only one person who could provide them.

Master Osar.

Kael moved to the center of the room, where his scrying mirror hovered in the air. It was an amorphous thing, more a portal of swirling blue mist than a true mirror. Its surface shimmered like water catching the light, rippling faintly as he approached.

He raised a hand, the motion shaky but deliberate, and whispered the incantation to summon his old teacher. The mirror stirred, the mist parting to reveal the face of a man who seemed carved from the very bones of the earth. Master Osar's features were weathered and ancient, his eyes a piercing silver that seemed to see through time itself.

"Kael," Osar said, his voice a deep rumble. His expression, initially stern, shifted to concern as he took in Kael's pallor. "What has happened?"

Kael opened his mouth to respond, but the effort was too much. His knees buckled, and the world tilted once more. Before he could hit the ground, a powerful arm caught him.

Osar stepped through the mirror with ease, his presence filling the room like a storm. He gripped Kael's elbow firmly, steadying him. "You're worse off than I thought," Osar muttered, his tone sharp with worry.

Kael looked up at him, his amber eyes dulled with exhaustion. "I don't... I don't understand," he managed, his voice weak. "I've never... bled like this."

Osar guided him to a chair, his movements swift but gentle. "Stay still," he ordered, his hands already glowing with a faint silver light. He placed them on Kael's temples, his magic probing the depths of Kael's being.

The silence stretched as Osar worked, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing moment. Finally, he stepped back, his expression grim.

"Lira," he called, his voice resonating through the sanctum. A moment later, a woman appeared, her movements as fluid as a river's flow. She was breathtaking, her silver hair cascading like moonlight down her back and her eyes soft with an ancient wisdom.

"What is it, Osar?" Lira asked, her gaze immediately falling on Kael. Concern flickered across her face as she crossed the room to join them.

"He's been destabilized," Osar said, his voice heavy. "Something—or someone—has tampered with his essence."

Lira knelt beside Kael, her hands brushing against his forehead. "Destabilized?" she echoed, her tone both puzzled and alarmed. "That shouldn't be possible. Not for someone of his age and strength."

Osar nodded gravely. "And yet, here he is."

Kael struggled to sit upright, his voice a hoarse whisper. "What... does it mean?"

Osar's silver eyes met his, their depths unfathomable. "It means you're vulnerable, Kael. Something has broken the balance within you—something powerful enough to wound even an immortal warlock."

Kael's breath caught, his mind racing. Vulnerable. The word echoed in his thoughts like a tolling bell. For the first time in centuries, he felt truly mortal.

The room darkened as Lira and Osar worked together to lift Kael, their movements efficient but filled with care. The towering Osar carried him with surprising gentleness, while Lira's touch radiated warmth, her energy weaving through Kael to ease his pain. They placed him on his bed, a grand, imposing thing draped with heavy velvet curtains that seemed to absorb the light. The mattress was deep and soft, the sheets cool against his fevered skin.

Lira fussed over him, smoothing his hair back and adjusting the pillows. "There," she murmured, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "You'll feel better soon."

Kael let out a shaky breath, his body sinking into the bed's welcoming embrace. "I'm not sure feeling better is possible right now," he muttered, though the weight in his voice betrayed more than physical exhaustion.

Osar, standing at the head of the bed with his arms crossed, raised a single, graying eyebrow. "Enough dramatics, Kael. You're not dying."

Kael shot him a half-hearted glare but said nothing. Instead, he turned his head toward Lira, whose touch seemed to steady his spinning thoughts. "I need to explain," he began, his voice hoarse. "You need to understand what's happening."

Lira exchanged a glance with Osar, her expression calm but laced with concern. "Go on," she encouraged, her fingers stilling as she rested her hand lightly over his.

Kael hesitated for a moment before recounting the events of the day. He spoke of Mira, of her sharp wit and resilience, of the strange dreams that had drawn him to her. He told them about Daniel, the human she had loved, and the revelation that a piece of his own soul had been entwined with Daniel's. His voice faltered as he described the moment Mira opened herself to him, unknowingly unlocking something profound—and painful—within him.

When he finished, the room was silent save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Osar's stern features softened, and even the ever-composed Lira seemed to carry less worry in her eyes.

Lira stayed seated on the edge of the bed, her palm warm against Kael's hand as her magic flowed into him, soothing the jagged edges of his essence. "Well," Osar said at last, breaking the quiet. "That explains quite a bit."

Kael frowned, his exhaustion giving way to irritation. "Care to elaborate?"

Osar chuckled, a deep rumble that filled the room. "It's rare, but not unheard of," he began. "When a warlock ascends and their soulmate is torn from them, sometimes a fragment of their soul follows. You see, the bond between a warlock and their soulmate is powerful—one of the few things even the forces of fate cannot fully sever."

Kael's frown deepened as he struggled to piece it together. "But why now? Why would that fragment return to me after all this time?"

"It's not a simple process," Osar admitted. "A warlock's soul is enriched by the ages—tempered by centuries of experience, loss, and growth. The fragment, however, remains human. Vulnerable. It's still... pure." He gestured toward Kael. "And when that fragment comes back to its source, there's bound to be conflict. Think of it as two halves of the same coin, aged differently by time."

Lira smiled softly, brushing her thumb over the back of Kael's hand. "But it's a good thing, Kael. Your soul is whole again."

Kael wasn't convinced. "A good thing?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "You call this a good thing? I feel like I've been ripped apart and put back together by a blind craftsman."

Osar barked a laugh. "That's because you're spoiled. A month, maybe two, and you'll be back to your bratty, insufferable self."

Kael shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual fire. "You've been waiting centuries to call me that, haven't you?"

"Centuries," Osar said with a smirk, his arms still crossed.

Lira, still holding Kael's hand, spoke up, her voice gentle but firm. "Kael, the fragment found its way back to you because Daniel's soul clung to Mira. And when Mira opened herself to you, when she shared her memories, her grief, and her love, that fragment naturally returned to its source."

Kael stared at her, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "Mira... did this?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Lira nodded, her gaze steady. "Not intentionally, but yes. Her vulnerability, her willingness to open her heart, created the path your fragment needed to come home."

For a long moment, Kael said nothing. He stared up at the canopy of his bed, his thoughts swirling. He felt raw, exposed, as if the reunion of his soul's pieces had left him more fragile than he cared to admit. But beneath the pain and confusion, there was a flicker of something else.

Hope.

"Rest now," Lira said, her voice like a balm. "You've been through enough for one day."

Kael closed his eyes, letting her warmth wash over him. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to drift, the sound of Osar and Lira's voices fading into the comforting hum of the sanctum.