Six years later.

The world hadn’t ended that night.

But something had.

Kaelen stood in silence, one hand tucked into his cloak, the other resting on the edge of the weathered stone. The grave was simple. Unmarked, except for the scarf Yolti had tied around the base—faded now, wind-frayed, but still whole.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he muttered.

Yolti’s voice came from behind. “You’ve said that every year.”

“And I mean it every year.”

She walked up beside him, arms folded. “She wouldn’t blame you, Kaelen. Solara knew the risks. She always did.”

He didn’t answer. The wind moved around them like it remembered too.

“Can we go?” Yolti asked, softer this time. “I don’t want to stay past dusk.”

They turned to leave.

But the moment they stepped into the clearing, the air changed.

A low pulse thrummed under their feet—unsteady, fractured.

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed. “You feel that?”

Yolti nodded, backing up slightly. “Something’s—”

The Riftborn lunged from the treeline.

Slick and white, its form barely solid, it snapped forward with a hiss that cut through the clearing like metal through glass. Kaelen ducked, rolled, drew his mark—but it didn’t respond.

“Veilmark!” he shouted. “Come on, come on—!”

The glyph on his arm flickered but didn’t ignite.

Another creature emerged—then a third.

Yolti held up her hands, trying to summon light. Nothing. Her pulse stuttered.

“They’re suppressing frequency,” she gasped. “We can’t—”

A screech.

Kaelen stumbled back as the Riftborn struck again. He raised his arm instinctively—and just before impact—

CRACK.

A burst of wind and silver flame dropped from the trees above, crashing into the center of the clearing like a star fallen wrong.

A figure stood there.

Cloaked. Masked.

The air around him shimmered with residual heat. In one smooth motion, he unsheathed his weapon—Crystal Monarch—and moved.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t hesitate.

The Riftborn lunged. He was faster.

Slice.

One fell in half—its pulse burning out like an old ember.

Another screamed. He turned, eyes glowing faint blue behind the mask. His arm flared with glyphlight.

Flash.

The last creature turned to dust.

Silence returned to the clearing.

Yolti stared, breath caught. “Who—?”

Kaelen stepped forward, voice shaking. “Wait… that technique…”

The figure turned.

And though the mask hid his face, his stance spoke louder than words.

He knew them.

Then—just as fast as he came—he was gone, vanishing into the treeline before they could move.

But behind him, the hum remained.