Kael didn't flinch, his resolve as unyielding as tempered jade. "Good."
Dorian stepped forward a few paces, his bruised face set with determination, his Wind Dao stirring the air around him. "You sure you're ready for this, Kael?"
"No," Kael admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But I can't wait to be."
They didn't linger. By nightfall, Kael had gathered what little he needed—Abyssal Fang, its spiritual essence humming in his grasp; a handful of low-grade healing pills to stabilize his meridians; his cracked mask, a relic of battles past; and a spare set of robes pressed into his hands by Evelyne, their fabric infused with a faint Earth Dao ward.
They stood at the edge of the Breachwood Pass as the moon rose, its silver light casting long shadows across the rugged path ahead. No words were exchanged; their bond, forged in blood and trial, spoke louder than any farewell.
