The chamber was quiet, lit only by a narrow shaft of daylight spilling through the tall window behind Karian's desk. The stone walls of the command hall dulled the sound of even Ajax's boots as he stepped in.
Karian didn't look up at first. He stood with his back to the door, reviewing a parchment covered in hand-drawn maps and stamped reports. Only when Ajax came to a stop did he speak.
"You're back earlier than expected."
Ajax gave a small nod. "The outpost was… abandoned. But not because of Cairn."
That made Karian turn. His brow furrowed as he crossed the room. "Explain."
"We found deep burrows. Something tunneled up from underneath. Two of them, actually. The first was big—thorned lizard, heavy bark armor.A scorngul. Tough but manageable."
"And the second?"
Ajax hesitated. "Stronger. Bigger. Crystalline growths, faster reflexes, enchanted core, serpent body."
Karian's eyes narrowed. "A Screaming Death?"
Ajax nodded. "We thought the first was the threat. But the second came from beneath its corpse. Almost like it was hunting the first—or following it.
Karian leaned back against the edge of his desk, arms holding him propped up. "You survived both."
"Barely," Ajax said. "Reva took a few hits. I… changed during the fight."
Karian's gaze sharpened.
"Your core?" he asked.
Ajax lifted a hand and summoned a single conjured blade. It shimmered—cleaner, denser, glowing faintly with inner structure. "The second ring opened. I can condense more mana into my weapons now. It's more stable and it's much more lethal."
Karian stared at the weapon for a long moment. "And Elyr?"
"Alive. He followed orders. Stayed out of danger. It was a good learning experience."
"Good," Karian said quietly. "He matters."
The silence that followed was not awkward. It was reflective.
"You've grown," Karian said after a moment. "When I look at you now, I see someone the scouts follow without needing to be told why. They trust you."
"I don't know if I trust myself yet," Ajax admitted.
Karian's lips tugged into something almost like a smile. "Then you're still sane."
Ajax blinked. Then laughed—quietly, but genuinely.
Karian's eyes softened, just a little. "You've earned rest. Clean yourself up."
Then, with a glance toward the window where banners of red and gold rippled in the wind, he added, "Unless you've forgotten—it's your birthday today, isn't it?"
Ajax blinked. "Oh."
Karian turned back toward the map on his table. "There's a gathering at the central atrium this evening, I organized it for you. I'd suggest wearing something not covered in dust and monster blood."
Ajax gave a tired grin. "I'll see what I can do."
As he turned to leave, Karian called out again, quieter this time.
"I'm proud of you, Ajax."
Ajax froze—just for a moment—then nodded without turning.
"Thanks."
And then he stepped back into the light.
Later that day the sun had dipped low behind the jagged skyline of Vorthryn, casting molten orange across the upper halls. Inside the capital's central atrium, golden torchlight danced beneath curved crystal skylights, and violet mana-lanterns shimmered above, suspended in elegant arcs. The room was alive with color and movement, the sound of glass clinking and arcane instruments humming in gentle rhythm.
Ajax stepped through the tall archway, wearing a tailored black scout coat with silver trim—no armor, no mask. The absence felt strange. His hands felt too empty.
He scanned the room.
Guild leaders, warcasters, nobles, and artificers circled the gathering tables. Mana signatures flickered faintly from enchanted accessories—badges of rank, affiliation, or achievement. To the right, a small group of artificers whispered excitedly while analyzing a floating model of the Screaming Death, projected in pale light.
He spotted Reva across the room, dressed in a fitted coat over her uniform, glass in hand. She gave him a smirk and a two-finger salute. Elyr was beside her, eyes wide, visibly trying to stand taller than he was.
Karian approached from the side. "Come," he said softly, hand resting briefly on Ajax's shoulder. "A few people want words with you."
They made their way through the crowd.
General Maron, of the eastern front, offered a firm nod. Arc-Mender Cyl, an accomplished valernian warrior, complimented Ajax's pulse control. Warden Tellestra, in charge of the prisons in valern, ever blunt, said only: "You fight clean. That's rare. Don't lose it."
Ajax gave courteous replies, but his gaze drifted—half-hoping to go unnoticed.
"Enjoying yourself?" came a soft, clear voice behind him.
Ajax turned.
Soleil.
The woman he had dueled in the courtyard months ago. Her long hair was pinned back tonight, streaked with faint silver. She wore a formal coat with a sun-shaped clasp, her demeanor relaxed, almost serene.
"Soleil," Ajax said, surprised. "You're here."
Her smile tilted sideways. "I live here."
"…Right."
She chuckled. "You look taller. Or maybe it's the boots."
He relaxed a little. "You look… calmer than the last time we met."
"I was just doing my job last time. Nothing personal."
She hesitated.
"You nearly disarmed me with mana weapons no one understood. I was allowed to be a little tense." She took a sip of her drink. "But I've seen enough now to know you're not a threat. Not right now, anyway. Not at your current level."
"If I remember right we tied."
"And if I remember right I held back down to only the second gate."
Ajax paused. He was unaware of this. Then he studied her. "So you don't think I'm dangerous?"
"Oh, you're dangerous," she said lightly. "Just not reckless. There's a difference."
He didn't know what to say to that.
She stepped a bit closer, voice lowered. "People here talk about you now. It's not fear. It's curiosity. Admiration, even."
Ajax shifted. "I don't know if that's a good thing."
"Doesn't matter," she said. "You've already become someone they watch. Just make sure they see what you want them to."
Then she patted his shoulder and walked off, vanishing into the crowd as easily as mist.
Reva appeared a moment later, raising an eyebrow. "That looked… civil."
Ajax blinked. "It was."
"She's warming up to you?"
"Apparently."
"Must be the boots."
They wandered back toward the center. Conversation, light, and motion swirled around them. The air buzzed with soft mana currents. Somewhere nearby, a harp-string spell plucked itself in tune with the party's ambient emotion.
And then a boy approached—ten, maybe eleven—offering a small, unevenly carved totem.
"My brother says you saved people," the boy said. "So I made this for you. It's a lucky charm."
Ajax crouched, accepting the gift gently. The edges were uneven. The grip was misshapen.
But it was made with intent.
"Thank you," Ajax said.
The boy grinned and scampered off.
Ajax straightened slowly.
He glanced around the room, absorbing it all—the faces, the voices, the lives continuing.
For once, he wasn't only a weapon.
He was part of something.
And yet, something in him still stirred. Something incomplete.
The celebration lingered behind him like distant music, muffled by thick stone walls. Ajax stepped onto one of the keep's outer balconies, the door easing shut behind him with a soft click.
The cold met him instantly—clean, high mountain air. It bit at his skin but felt welcome after the heat and noise of the hall. From this high vantage, the city of Vorthryn stretched beneath him, a quilt of rooftops and glowing lanterns, the walls curling around it like the ribs of a great beast.
Above, the stars blinked sharp and clear. A few wisps of cloud drifted past, but the sky was otherwise open. Free.
He leaned on the stone railing, letting his arms rest. For a moment, he said nothing. Thought nothing.
Then he breathed.
His Spiral was calm now. Not silent, but settled—like a forge banked for the night.
He thought of the Screaming Death.
Of Elyr's questions.
Of Reva, of Kaeli, of his love from his past life who had appeared in that blinding vision. Her voice still echoed in his chest: You're not done saving people.
He wasn't even sure he'd started.
And still… he had come far.
From the boy learning to breathe mana.
To a scout standing among generals.
To someone seen.
He looked up at the stars again, searching them for something. A sign. A voice.
Anything.
Nothing came.
Just the cold. And the quiet.
And after a long pause, Ajax whispered to the night—
"…I miss you."
He didn't say who.
Didn't need to.
He let the silence carry it.
And stayed there a little while longer, beneath the stars, letting himself simply be.