The stars watched silently above as the forest whispered with the hush of midnight. Valen crouched beside a dwindling fire, his face lit by flickering embers, the flames dancing like memories in his gold-threaded dreads. Across from him, Mia cradled Hope in her lap, the child's head resting peacefully against her armored chest. Despite the weight of divinity in her blood, Hope slept like any five-year-old—gently, with small snores and fingers curled in Mia's cloak.
They were hidden in a forgotten part of the mortal realm, cloaked by old magic and the last remnants of Valen's strength. He hadn't slept in days. Every time his eyes closed, he saw Aurelia bound in chains, her scream echoing through the Celestial Spire. The image would jolt him awake.
"You should rest," Mia whispered.
Valen shook his head. "I can't afford to. Not yet."
Mia studied him. His once-glorious armor was torn and blackened. Wounds—some divine, others cruelly mortal—littered his skin. His hands, though still steady, trembled when he thought no one was looking.
"You keep pushing like this, you'll burn out."
Valen's smile was hollow. "That's the idea."
Mia looked away. The flames cracked and popped. Overhead, clouds gathered like the breath of gods.
Hope stirred and opened her glowing blue eyes. "Is Mommy coming soon?"
Valen's heart clenched. He reached across and brushed her cheek. "Not yet, little star. But we'll see her again. I promise."
Mia stood, gently lifting Hope and resting her on a bed of furs. Then she turned to Valen. "We need to talk."
Valen raised an eyebrow. "About?"
"Your brother. Sarive."
The name felt distant, like a song from a life Valen had abandoned.
"He was just a kid when I left. What does he know of this war?"
"He's not a kid anymore. He's building something—something powerful. A team. Fighters, born of Ascendants. The children of your old allies."
Valen's expression darkened. "Chris. He must be helping him."
Mia shook her head. "Chris trained him. But Sarive leads. He's different from you. Calmer, maybe. But there's fire in him."
Valen leaned forward. "He doesn't know I'm alive."
Mia hesitated. "I told him."
The silence was deep.
"Why?"
"Because he deserves to know. He needed to understand why I showed up with a child born of godfire and prophecy."
Valen looked toward the stars. "Then I suppose that meeting is inevitable."
Mia crossed her arms. "He's hunting demons. Tracking those sent after Hope."
Valen narrowed his eyes. "That's not a coincidence."
Mia nodded. "No. And the gods aren't sending pawns anymore. They're sending monsters."
Valen rose, his body straining against pain and exhaustion. He walked to the edge of the clearing and gazed into the trees.
"Tomorrow we move. East. Toward the Old Canyon. That's where the trail leads. We'll find him."
Mia placed a hand on his shoulder. "And when you do? What then?"
Valen didn't answer. He stared at the horizon.
Elsewhere, in the ruins of a temple swallowed by jungle, Sarive knelt beside a burning corpse of a demon. Around him, five others—his team—checked the perimeter. Armor scorched, knuckles bloodied, hearts pounding.
Sarive wiped ichor off his blade, his glowing silver eyes narrowing. The demons were getting stronger. Smarter. More coordinated.
His communicator crackled.
"We found another trail. This one leads to the east."
Sarive stood. "Then that's where we go."
He didn't know it yet—but in three days' time, he'd come face to face with his brother.
And punch him in the face.
Back at the camp, Valen sat beside Hope, whispering a lullaby that Aurelia used to hum.
Mia watched from a distance. Her gaze flickered with thought, with worry.
And something else—something new—whenever she looked at Valen.
Something that would change when she met Sarive.