Kael left that night.

No goodbyes. No letter. Just a missing pack and footprints in the dust.

Thira sat on the edge of the cot, staring at nothing. Elysia stood nearby, pacing like a caged animal, the boy’s blood still clinging to her boots in flecks.

“He was just a kid.”
Her voice was hollow. “Couldn’t have been more than sixteen. I saw it in his eyes — he didn’t want to do it. They made him.”

Thira didn’t answer.

“They’re using children now, Thira. For what? A message? A statement? I’ve stolen from nobles, outplayed wardens, tricked warlocks out of their teeth. But I’ve never killed like that. Never meant to.”

She punched the wall. Hard. Skin tore across her knuckles.

“I hate them.”

Finally, Thira spoke.

“And what are you going to do? Burn the whole city down?”

Elysia turned to her, voice rising.

“If I could, I would. I want to break every bone in the Serpent’s spine. Tear out its fangs and spit in its hollow skull.”

She stepped forward, raw and wild-eyed.

“They think they can just take what we love. Bramm. Kael. Me. You.”

But Thira shook her head.

“You don’t get it, Elysia. You never did.”

Her voice cracked.

“You want to fight shadows with knives. I want to live.”

Elysia stepped back, silence wrapping around her like fog.

Thira continued, quieter now.

“I’m leaving. I’m going back to Aetherium. There’s a little grove east of the city, near the riversong trees. I’ll be there. If you ever… want something else.”

She touched Elysia’s shoulder, gently, then walked out the door.

No tears. Just silence.

That night, Elysia stood alone on the rooftop of a crooked tenement. The wind tugged her red shawl like a dying flame.

Below, Empyria pulsed — dirty, loud, teeming with secrets. The alleys stretched like veins, carrying coin, curses, and corpses. Somewhere down there, the Serpent Conclave watched. Waited. Coiled.

“Too big,” she muttered. “Too full of teeth.”

She closed her eyes.

Thira was gone. Kael, gone. Bramm, buried or burned by now, forgotten by the very city he once laughed in.

All she had left was this fire inside her — hot, directionless, dangerous.

And yet…

“If I stay quiet, they win,” she whispered. “If I run, they win.”

She opened her eyes, a dangerous glint in them now.

“But if I become something they can’t swallow…”

A pause. Her fingers curled tightly into fists.

“I’ll carve out a place they can’t reach.”

She would train. Learn. Lie low.

Find every backdoor, every code, every secret handshake of the underworld. She’d make allies. Buy them if needed. Blackmail them if necessary. One piece at a time, she would take the underbelly.

This city broke things. She would become something unbreakable.

She looked down at the swarming streets, the flicker of lanterns and broken dreams.

“You want a queen of shadows?”
“Fine.”
“You’ll get one.”

And as the wind howled through the bones of Empyria, Elysia turned her back to the stars.

And disappeared into the dark.