As they strolled through Nyridia's streets, Rika looked at Liliana with a grin, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"So… what's your dad's actual name?" she asked. "Do you just call him 'Lord'? Or is his name actually Lord?"

Liliana raised an eyebrow. "No, Lord is not his name. His name is Sandor, but I don't exactly call him by that."

Kale chuckled, looking over at Liliana. "So… it's just 'Father,' then?"

"Yes, it's 'Father,' though he insists on Lord in front of others."

Rika laughed. "I guess 'Lord Father' would be a bit much."

She turned to Kale. "Hey, Kaley, you don't talk about your parents much. What are they like?"

Kale's expression softened, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "They were… amazing. Kind. Fun. The sort of people who made everyone feel like they belonged. My mother had this laugh—it was loud, joyful, like she wasn't just laughing at something, but trying to pull everyone into it with her. It didn't matter how bad things got, if she laughed, you felt like everything might still be okay."

He paused, eyes distant now. "And my father… he was steady. The kind of person who'd stop everything just to help a stranger carry water or fix a fence. He didn't talk much, but he always knew what to say when it mattered.

"Our house didn't have much, but it was always open. If someone needed a meal, they had one. If they needed a place to stay, even just for a night, there was always room. My parents believed that no one should ever feel alone in the world. And my father…" He smiled faintly. "He wouldn't stand for anyone being bullied or treated like they were less. He always said, 'Treat everyone the way you wish to be treated. Or better, if you can manage it.' They were good people."

"They raised a pretty good kid too," Rika said. "Guess we know where you got that annoyingly solid moral compass."

Kale laughed. "They definitely did their best. They both passed a couple of years ago. My mother went first, and then… well, my father wasn't the same without her. I think he died of a broken heart."

He looked at Liliana, and caught her watching him. Her expression softened with something he couldn't quite place but didn't want to let go of. The warmth in her eyes, the quiet understanding, stirred an unexpected thrill—a lightness he wasn't used to, a sensation he didn't entirely know what to do with. He held her gaze a beat longer than he'd intended, feeling that unspoken connection settle between them, steady yet uncertain.

It was a feeling he couldn't fully grasp, something that had crept up on him uninvited but now felt like it belonged. Whatever it was, it settled there quietly, like a promise neither of them had to voice.

Liliana listened in silence, thoughtful as she watched him speak. So much of what she'd come to admire in Kale—the kindness, the fierce loyalty, the selflessness—was a legacy from these people he'd lost. She could see their imprint on him, shaping him into someone who carried light in places most people would let darkness settle.

What struck her most was that he still held onto that light, despite everything. Life had thrown him into situations that would have broken most people—summoned into a world he did not understand, endless battles, and burdens no one should have to bear. Yet, Kale endured. He didn't just survive; he remained… himself. That same kindness, that same sense of duty, somehow endured beneath the layers of pain and struggle. He carried scars, visible and unseen, yet they hadn't hardened him, hadn't turned him bitter or cruel. He stood as proof that even in the face of relentless suffering, it was possible to hold onto something good.

And then there was herself. She knew her scars were different. Where his pain had forged empathy, hers had sharpened her into something colder, something harder. The choices she'd made, the things she'd done—each one had carved away at her, piece by piece. If she had ever been like him, that person was long gone. She couldn't even imagine a life shaped by love, by laughter, by people who gave freely without expecting something in return. What kind of person would she have been, if her parents had been like his? Would she have been softer, less ruthless, more… whole?

The thought unsettled her. It lingered in a way she couldn't shake, pulling at threads she'd kept tightly wound for so long. She'd always told herself that her past had made her stronger, that survival required sacrifices. But as she looked at Kale—still standing, still kind in a world that had given him every reason not to be—she couldn't help but wonder if strength could be something else entirely.

She stared at him as they walked, the admiration in her chest growing heavier, more complicated. She wasn't sure if she envied him or pitied him, if she wanted to protect him or push him away before he could remind her of all the things she could never be. But one thing was certain: Kale's resilience wasn't just admirable—it was extraordinary. And for reasons she didn't want to examine too closely, it made her want to believe, for just a moment, that maybe she wasn't as broken as she thought.

Kale's words drew her back to the moment, his smile gentle, eyes reflecting the memories that clearly still filled his heart.

"They taught me everything that mattered."

Kale glanced up at the sky, like maybe he could still find his parents somewhere in it.

"When things got hard," he added, his voice quieter now, "my mother would hold me and say, 'Remember: even the longest night ends in dawn.' I didn't really understand it back then. I just knew that when she said it, the world didn't feel so heavy."

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He let out a breath, a small, wistful smile touching his lips. "It was like she believed it for me until I could believe it too.

"She used to say her father told her that—that even the longest night ends in dawn. Said he'd whisper it to her when she was scared."

He paused, the smile fading just a little. "I never got to meet him. He died when she was really young. But she'd tell me stories about him. How strong he was, how brave. The kind of man who'd face down monsters without blinking, just to protect the people he loved."

Kale's expression shifted, more thoughtful now. "Of course, there were no monsters where I grew up. No magic either. So I figured they were just stories. Good ones, though. The kind that make you feel like maybe you came from something special."

He looked down at his hands. "She used to say he could use magic. Said he could make swords fly. Will blades into the air. Hundreds of them, moving like they were alive."

He paused. "…Huh."

His brow furrowed. "The way she talked about him… he sounded like a bladeweaver."

Kale didn't say anything else. His world tilted, thoughts dragging him deep into himself, into everything he hadn't questioned until now.

He hadn't thought about his grandfather in years. A kind man. A strong man. A dead man. That's all he ever was. Just a shape built from stories. Ones his mother used to tell when he couldn't sleep.

But the things she said… The magic. The blades that moved like thoughts. The swords he could summon, shape, command. It sounded like a bladeweaver.

"I… I had a dream after Orestios's temple…

"There was a little girl running. That must have been my mother. The man behind her… my grandfather. That sword, red gem in the crossguard. The same shape. The same glow. It looked like Aeloria's Promise.

"He cut open the world, ripped a hole through reality and shoved them through it. His daughter, his wife. And then he turned to face what was coming. Alone."

Was it Xeroth? Kale hadn't been able to tell. Hadn't even given the dream a second thought until now.

Had he sent them to another world to keep them safe? And now Kale was here. Pulled back into… whatever this was.

He'd always assumed the ritual was a mistake. An accident. But what if it wasn't? What if all of this—him—was deliberate?

His skin prickled. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. What if it was always meant to be him? What if everything his mother told him… wasn't just a story?

He could still hear her voice. Even the longest night ends in dawn.

He swallowed. Why was he brought here? Why him? Why now? Why by Xeroth's followers—if it even was Xeroth? Had they just wanted to end the bloodline? Or something else?

Was his grandfather special somehow? Was Kale?

He didn't have answers. Just a knot in his gut and a million unanswered questions.

Rika stepped a little closer. "So your grandfather was a bladeweaver. Guess that makes sense. It had to come from somewhere."

She placed a hand on his back. "You okay, Kaley?"

Kale didn't answer. He barely even heard her.

Liliana crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. "If your grandfather opened a rift between worlds… that's not something just anyone can do. That's power. Old power. bladeweaver or not, he wasn't ordinary."

She looked thoughtful. "Maybe none of this is."

Rika nodded. "Maybe this isn't just about Xeroth. Maybe it's about you."

Liliana studied him. "We've been under the assumption that all this just happened to you. That you got dragged into it by mistake." She shook her head. "But what if you were never just some farm kid with a sword?"

Rika gave him a crooked smile. "Still kind of a dork, though."

Kale blinked, the edge of a smile finally tugging at his mouth. "…Rika, that might be the only thing I'm sure of right now."

She snorted. "Right, but seriously… if you're not just some farm kid… where did you come from? You're pretty mysterious, you know that?"

Kale chuckled softly. "Mysterious? I'm not sure about that. I'm from a small village called Andel."

Rika frowned, her head tilting slightly as she looked to Liliana. "Ever heard of it?"

Liliana shook her head. "No. You?"

"Not a clue," Rika said, turning back to Kale with a raised eyebrow. "Where is that? Probably not in Thaloryn."

Kale shrugged. "It's small."

"Yeah, but where in Ilvaria?" Rika pressed. "North? South? Somewhere near the coast?"

Kale shrugged again. "I don't know, definitely not near the coast. I never really thought about it. I know it's in Brabant though."

Rika blinked. "You've got no idea where your own village is?"

"Never left," Kale said with a slight smile. "Never had to."

Liliana narrowed her eyes, her tone curious but edged with suspicion. "I have never heard of Brabant either. Is that even in Ilvaria?"

Kale stopped walking for a moment, his expression blank before he let out a soft laugh. "You know, now that you mention it, I'm not really sure. But I do know we didn't have talking, man-sized bugs, cursed swords that judge my life choices, or actual magic. Which, in hindsight, is kind of a big difference."

Rika gave him a long look. "Kaley, you're officially the most mysterious not-mysterious person I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Kale said, chuckling.

Liliana's expression had grown more serious. "So your grandfather didn't just have the power to send them to another part of the world. Not just to a different region or country. He might've sent them to an entirely different plane.

"That kind of power isn't just rare. It's ancient. Dangerous. It takes a level of control and magical knowledge most people can't even imagine. If your grandfather really did that… it may mean this bloodline—your bloodline—has been a threat to Xeroth for longer than any of us realized."

She met his eyes. "Kale… I don't believe that you were summoned by accident."

Kale went quiet, his eyes fixed on some distant point.

"I always thought this just… happened. That I got pulled into something I was never meant to be a part of. Wrong place, wrong time."

He shook his head slightly. "But maybe I wasn't dragged into this. Maybe I was meant to be here."

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers like he was seeing them differently.

"Do you think Aeloria knows? About my grandfather? About any of this?"

"If she doesn't, she's gonna be real surprised when she finds out," Rika said.

Liliana was staring at the ground. "If you weren't an accident… then maybe I wasn't either. What they did to me. Why they needed me for the ritual. I assumed I was just… useful. A tool."

Her brow furrowed. "But what if I wasn't just useful? What if I was necessary? What if both of us were?"

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It pressed in, heavy with questions no one knew how to answer.

The silence stretched. Then Liliana spoke.

"I think we keep this between us. No one else needs to know what we know. Not yet."

She looked between them. "Not even Aeloria. Either we're the only ones who've figured this out… or someone hasn't told us the whole truth."

Her expression hardened. "Either way, it's better if we stay quiet until we understand what we're actually part of."

Kale nodded slowly. "Yeah… I think you're right. I don't know who's pulling the strings, or why… but I'm starting to get the feeling we're not seeing the full picture."

Liliana gave a soft hum of agreement. "Neither do I. But that's exactly why we keep this to ourselves. Still… we won't get answers just standing here."

Her expression softened, almost a smile. "And this is supposed to be our day off, remember? I still haven't shown you Nyridia."

Rika perked up. "Finally."

Liliana looked back at Kale. "The answers will come eventually. But for now… let's take the peace where we can find it."

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