15th Rotation of the Cyrandros Cycle, 3448 A.E.
Kael Voren stirred beneath the weight of thick blankets, warmth clinging to his skin like memory. Morning light spilled through the slats of the curtains, diffused and pale—the cold season had settled deep over Ashport, even this close to the equator. Outside, the Grays breathed in silence. Inside, gentle heat radiated from the rune-etched stones in the walls, their amber glow casting long, lazy shadows across the hardwood floor.
For the first time in half an orbit, Kael didn’t have to leap from bed before sunrise. No forge fires. No metal to temper. No grunts from Garrick demanding faster, cleaner work. Today was different. Today was hers.
He lay still a moment longer, letting his thoughts drift to last night—Lira’s eyes catching the glow of the dancing lights, the way her laughter rang out at the Sideroad Boys tribute, and how her hand had found his as the crowd faded into blur. She’d awakened. Not just her talent, but something else—something between them that had lingered long after the music died.
The smell of sizzling bacon broke his reverie.
Kael grinned and rolled out of bed, tugging on a thick robe. He padded barefoot down the curved staircase, polished wood cool beneath his soles. Below, the open-concept kitchen and dining room glowed with life and warmth. Elira moved fluidly between the stove and countertop, hair pinned back in a fraying braid of brown and silver. Sera sat at the table in a hoodie far too big for her, half-hidden behind a steaming bowl of porridge.
“'Mornin’, Ma. Sera,” Kael said, his Brinewatch drawl softened by affection as he slid into his seat.
“Morning, Kael,” Elira said with a smile that crinkled her tired eyes. “Almost forgot what you looked like at breakfast.”
Sera peeked over her bowl, grinning. “The prodigal son returns. All hail the birthday planner.”
Kael chuckled, grabbing a slice of toast. “Couldn’t miss this one. Lira’s awakening day.”
“She awake yet?” Sera asked, eyes twinkling as she jabbed her fork into a slab of bacon.
“Awakened last night,” Kael said, voice casual but colored with pride. “It hit hard—felt like a high-ranker. She was buzzin’ all over.”
Sera's mouth fell open. “Wait, wait—already? You saw her awaken?! That’s, like, so—ugh, unfair. I wanna awaken in a shower of light and glitter and screaming.”
“Too bad you’re not dating the planner,” Kael said with a smirk.
Sera scowled and threw a crumb at him. “Bleh.”
Elira set down a fresh plate in front of Kael and sat across from him. Her voice softened, the moment shifting. “She’s a good girl, your Lira. What you did for her… that kind of gesture leaves a mark. If I’d known what you had planned, I might’ve asked you to slow down. A night like that—well, it can stay with a person for life.”
Kael set his fork down gently. “I know, Ma. And I meant it to.”
Her eyes studied him, searching for cracks, but Kael didn’t look away.
“I love her,” he said simply. “I’m not just playin' at feelin's. She made hers clear last night. I feel the same. I’m… I’m gonna marry her someday.”
Silence bloomed between them—soft, weighty. Elira blinked, a breath catching before her lips tugged upward.
“Then I hope she says yes.”
Sera choked on her porridge. “What?! You’re getting married?! No! I object! Objection! Kae Kae can’t leave me to go be someone’s husband-slave!”
Kael reached across the table, mussing her hair. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’ll always be my bratty little sis, wedding ring or not.”
Sera pouted, then grinned through a mouthful of honeyed oats. “Good. You promised.”
“I did,” Kael said, squeezing her hand.
The three of them ate together in easy rhythm, the kind only forged by years of hardship and healing. The table smelled of porridge, toast, fried eggs, starbloom honey, and fried bacon bits. Light filtered through the windows now, stronger, crisper. Another day breaking.
Kael glanced at the wall clock and stood, brushing off his robe. “No forge, but I still got a full day ahead. AGE Magazine’s sendin’ a crew. They’re doin’ a shoot and followin’ me and Lira around at the company.”
Elira’s eyebrows arched. “AGE? As in the AGE Magazine?”
Kael grinned. “Yeah. Nominated me for Businessman of the Year. And the ‘Top 20 Under 20 Millionaires’ list.”
Elira stared, blinking slowly. “Kael… that’s—” She sat back, breath catching, then let out a soft laugh. “You’re becoming more like your father every day.”
His grin faltered, just for a second.
She caught it and pressed on gently. “I remember his first AGE interview. Tharan Voren, ‘The Artifact God.’ He looked ridiculous in that gold-trimmed coat they made him wear.” Her gaze drifted into memory. “But he was proud. You should be too.”
Kael nodded. “I am. I just… I wanna do it right. Not just the business. All of it.”
Elira leaned forward, placing a hand on his. “Then do it your way. But if you’re going to walk this path, walk it with integrity. Be better than the old guard. Be like Elandor—honest, wise, unshakable. You’ve got that in you.”
Kael met her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
He hugged them both, lingering for a heartbeat longer with Sera, then pulled on his coat and stepped outside.
The air hit sharp and cold. Frost bit at the edges of the railings. The Grays were waking up in their usual slow, reluctant way—street sweepers humming, a hawker yelling about fresh buns no one could afford. But for once, Kael didn’t mind.
Lira’s awakening. The AGE interview. The shadow of Theron Vex’s sabotage waiting on the horizon.
He took a long breath. The day ahead was heavy, but he was ready.
