Kael stood frozen under the flickering streetlight, the afterimage of Sai Devis still burning in his mind.
Not his Sai from the Asolukas' mansion, the soft-spoken, restrained one with eyes that held back her fire.
No, this was the other Sai.
The one who left.
The one whose voice had once steadied his storms, the one who vanished when his world caved in and now… she had appeared. For barely a heartbeat. But he had seen her—there was no mistaking it. The same jawline. The same eyes. But cloaked. And watching.
"Shadow Watchers," Kael muttered under his breath.
He tugged the pendant from beneath his shirt. It pulsed faintly, warm like skin, humming as if it heard his thoughts. His hands trembled.
What are you doing to me? he thought.
Had it begun to warp his reality? Was he hallucinating her out of pain, loneliness—or was something far deeper stirring?
---
Back at the mansion, Kael barely touched dinner, his appetite was drowned by the swarm of thoughts inside him, Sai glanced at him from across the table, her gaze soft, questioning, but restrained, she always held back… and tonight, he didn't have the words to pull her closer.
Later, as he cleaned the car outside, she stepped out quietly with two mugs of tea.
"You look like you need warmth," she said gently, offering one.
Kael accepted it, but didn't meet her eyes.
"Was it a hard day?"
He let the silence stretch. Then.. "I saw someone."
She tilted her head. "Who?"
He hesitated. "Someone who left me behind when I needed them most."
Sai went quiet, "I thought I was done hurting over her," Kael continued. "But tonight, I'm not even sure if she was real, "Sai set her cup on the car's hood, her fingers brushing his lightly, "You don't have to explain your scars," she whispered. "But I want to be someone who doesn't add to them."
Kael finally looked at her into those soft brown eyes and saw the war waging behind them. Love, shame, loyalty to her parents, The fear of being the reason he lost everything again.
"You won't hurt me," he said. "Not unless you leave without telling me why."
"I won't leave," she whispered, and for the first time, he almost believed her.
---
Elsewhere, across the city, Madam Elsie stood at the center of a lavishly decorated room in Kael's father's estate. Silver drapes danced in the wind from the open balcony, but the air was still.
Cold, calculated.
Her hand gripped a black file, the latest report from her private investigator.
Mrs. Elenora, Kael's mother, had been moved to a private care home. The name was familiar. Too familiar.
"She still clings to life like it's hers to keep," Elsie muttered, biting her lower lip.
She had already ensured the property papers were transferred into her name. But that wasn't enough. As long as Elenora lived, Kael had something left to fight for.
A reason to return.
A claim to the empire Elsie had worked too hard to secure.
She glanced at the oil painting above the fireplace of Mr. Davian Westbridge, Kael's father, seated in power. He had grown quieter these days. Less confrontational. It was easy to move things in the dark when no one was truly watching.
And Elenora?
Elenora had to disappear.
---
At the Asoluka mansion, Sai's father stood by the grand hallway, arms folded behind him, watching Kael from the upper floor.
There was something about the boy he couldn't stomach. Not just his presence—his essence.
Kael didn't speak out of place, didn't raise his voice. But he stood too straight. Looked too alive for someone who should have broken by now.
"Who are you really, boy?" Mr. Asoluka whispered to himself. "What are you hiding beneath that silence?"
He had already made subtle efforts to push Kael out. Reduced breaks. Assigned chores beyond driving. Ensured the gardener gave poor reports. But the boy endured it all without flinching.
That made him dangerous.
"Too much pain breeds persistence," the older man muttered, as if remembering an old lesson. "And persistence is the root of rebellion."
He would need to dig deeper. Before it was too late.
---
Meanwhile, back in the servant quarters, Kael sat on the floor, legs stretched, his back to the bedframe.
He stared at the pendant again. It no longer glowed.
But when he closed his eyes, he could still hear it. Whispering not in words, but in images. Flames, cliffs. A black gate split down the center, A sword in a stranger's hands, and a woman's cry echoing through stone halls.
He opened his eyes, heart racing.
None of that's mine.
Yet I saw it.
He pressed the pendant to his chest.
"What are you trying to show me?" he whispered.
No answer. Just the quiet hum of the city around him.
---
In the distance, across dark rooftops and alleyways, cloaked figures moved soundlessly.
Not dreams.
Not ghosts.
Watchers.
One paused near the boundary wall of the mansion, placing a pale hand on stone. Its eyes golden, hollow, yet seeing tilted upward toward Kael's window.
And then it spoke. Not aloud.
But inside Kael's mind.
The heir is waking. The veil is thinning... We watch... until the crossing begins.
Kael sat upright.
The pendant flared briefly, and then went dark again.