By the time they reached the ridgelands beyond the Vale, Yuuto's body screamed in agony as if he'd been pulled through a blender made of knife and magic. Kaela maintained a steady pace, as ever. Silent. Focused. Unreachable. He was starting to see why the bards referred to her as "The Sword That Mourns.
They camped under a crescent-shaped stone arch that glowed softly with magic. Kaela didn't provide much chat—she never did—but tonight, something in the atmosphere changed. Perhaps it was the unsettling quiet. Perhaps it was Yuuto's dream last night. Or perhaps it was the flowing mark now radiating across his back.
"What is it?" he whispered to her. "What's happening to me?
Kaela knelt by the fire, shadows flicking across the armor. "Your body's acclimating. Your soul as well. The Trial cut the first Brand from you. But the fire. it's not finished."
She indicated he should turn. Delicately, she pulled the tunic away from his shoulder. A radiant sigil throbbed—like a constellation had been seared into his flesh, strands of starlight mingled with fiery light. Her gaze tightened. Not with fear. With recognition.
"That mark—what is it?" he asked.
Kaela hesitated a long moment to respond. Then: "It's the First Flame Brand. A Starbrand. It hasn't been seen in more than a hundred years."
He blinked. "Alright. So what does that mean?"
She met his gaze, her eyes piercing as her sword. "It means you're not merely another Starborn. You're a catalyst. A chosen flame. And others will seek you out now—priests, assassins, kings. gods, perhaps."
Yuuto stared into the fire. "Great. So I'm a magical flashlight in a world full of moths with swords."
She allowed the faintest smirk. "That's. not entirely wrong."
The following day, they moved towards Lysara—the City of the Clouds, final neutral land on the Skybound Continent. It was, Kaela explained, the sole location remaining where they may discover information regarding the Brand. Or allies. Or both. The journey was harsh. Scaling crystal ridges, transiting through rain acidic enough to burn skin, concealing from sky leviathans that swam in the clouds like underwater beasts.
But Yuuto was evolving. No longer did he trip over every root. He could smell danger even before it came. The fire within him danced even when he did not summon it. Kaela looked back at him more than once with a mixture of respect and caution.
At the third evening, he caught her sitting alone, cleaning her sword under the light of the moon. He moved with care.
"Always so moody, or am I special?" he joked.
She did not glance up. "You're loud."
"And yet, you never left me behind. You could've."
Her silence dragged on. Then: "You remind me of someone."
"Let me guess—your little brother?"
"No," she said, and looked at him at last. "Me. Before the fire. Before the betrayal."
Yuuto sat down next to her. "You were like me?"
Kaela smiled bitterly. "Naïve. Reckless. Hopeful."
He was going to say something nice. Instead, he said: "You still have hope. I see it."
Kaela watched him. "You're wrong."
"But you haven't given up."
She turned aside. "You talk too much."
He grinned.
They arrived at the edge of Lysara on the last day of the week. The city hung in mid-air over a shattered plateau, held fast by magical streams and gigantic rune-pillars. Airships hummed in and out of shimmering gates like bees to honey.
Yuuto's jaw dropped. "Okay. That's officially the coolest thing I've ever seen."
Kaela tossed him a worn cloak. "Put that on. Your mark's visible, and Lysara's full of eyes."
As they crossed the ancient runic bridge, a strange sensation gripped Yuuto—like gravity had turned sideways. He stumbled, and Kaela caught him by the arm.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, just. everything sideways and glowing."
"Welcome to threshold magic," she said. "You'll get used to it. Or puke."
Thankfully, it was the former.
Within the city, Lysara vibrated with color and risk. Market stalls with hovering crystals. Masks over the faces of mages. Sword saints sparring in stances on sky-floors with no rail. No king ruled this city—just guilds and factions. It was a den of changing allegiances and impossible design.
And someone was already monitoring them.
Kaela felt it first. She altered their path, taking them deeper into the industrial district, into shadows.
"They're quick," she grumbled. "Not bounty hunters."
"Who, then?"
She halted just as abruptly. Yamato Priests of the Ember Throne.
Yuuto's blood ran cold. "They seek the Brand?"
"They seek dominion over what it can awaken."
A hooded figure emerged from the fog. Golden armor. Crimson eyes. No feet—only floating smoke.
"You bear the First Flame," he declared, his voice echoing. "By right of starlight and blood, you will come with us."
Yuuto steeled himself.
Kaela advanced.
"Over my dead body," she spat, drawing sword.
The air was charged. Magic. Tension. A battle was brewing.
And Yuuto saw, as his fire flared out of control:
This wasn't a game.
This was war.