Kael woke up late.
The kind of late that made the sun feel judgmental.
Warm light spilled through the tall windows of the church, brushing over his face as he stirred, groaning.
His muscles ached faintly from the night before—not from battle, for once—but from peace.
And maybe a little bit of snow-rolling.
Last night, after their run beneath the twin moons, he'd left Lysaria in a quiet alley near her home.
Safe.
Close enough for her to return and claim she'd escaped from her captors on her own.
She'd insisted on it—on owning her story.
And Kael, for once, didn't argue.
Before parting, she told him something else.
She was leaving for the Empire next week.
To chase Rank 3 before the Academy trials.
Her voice had been calm, focused.
Not hopeful—determined.
Kael had smiled then, and simply said, "I'll see you there."
And she had nodded.
No blushing. No hesitating.
Just steel in her spine.
He liked that version of her.
Now, as he sat up, he groaned again.
