The fox crouched low, its rotted vocal cords vibrating with a growl. It was ready to lunge at Lyra’s throat.

  Lyra didn't move. She stared at Kaelen, her heart hammering against her ribs.

  Kaelen’s hand was raised, his eyes a dull, terrifying grey. The bracelet hummed, urging him to finish the threat. “She knows too much,” it whispered. “Silence her.”

  But beneath the grey fog, Kaelen was screaming.

  No. Not Lyra. Never Lyra.

  He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to taste copper. The pain jolted him. He forced his hand down, fighting the invisible weight that tried to keep it raised.

  "Down," Kaelen choked out.

  The fox froze mid-step. It whimpered, confused by the conflicting orders, then slunk back to Kaelen’s side, pressing its cold body against his leg.

  Kaelen collapsed to his knees, gasping as the grey drained from his eyes, leaving them a frantic, watery green.

  Lyra rushed to him, ignoring the hissing dead baker. She grabbed Kaelen’s shoulders, shaking him. "Kaelen! Look at me!"

  Kaelen flinched, instinctively pulling his right arm tight against his chest, burying it in his tunic.

  "Kaelen! What is that thing? What is on your arm?"

  Kaelen pulled away, trying to hide his wrist inside his sleeve. "No... Lyra, don't..."

  "Show me your hand," Lyra demanded, her voice trembling but hard.

  She didn't wait. She grabbed his wrist and violently yanked up his sleeve.

  Lyra gasped, stumbling back as if she had been burned.

  It wasn't just a bracelet. It was a parasite. The black metal had sunk deep into his flesh, the skin around it raw, red, and blistering. Thick, inky veins spider-webbed out from the metal, crawling up his forearm like a dark infection seeking his heart.

  "Gods..." Lyra whispered, her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with revulsion. "Kaelen... it's eating you."

  Kaelen scrambled back, pulling the sleeve down desperately. "It’s not! It’s just... it’s stuck!"

  "Stuck?" Lyra cried, her voice rising in panic. "Look at your veins! That thing is alive!"

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  "I found it!" Kaelen sobbed, the lie mixing with his real terror. "After the raid... in the mud. I thought it was just iron! I put it on and... and now it won't let go!"

  "Take it off," Lyra said, her voice shaking. "Throw it away."

  "I can't!" Kaelen sobbed. "It won't come off. And... and it talks to me, Lyra. It tells me things."

  He looked up at her, his face pale and sweaty. He remembered the lie the bracelet had whispered to him—to make himself the victim.

  "I don't know what's happening to me," he lied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes... sometimes I blackout. I wake up in the woods, or by the shore, and I don't know how I got there. I don't know what I've done."

  Lyra’s expression softened from fear to pity. She gripped his hand—the one with the bracelet. It was freezing cold.

  "We have to tell my father," she said. "Or the Elder."

  "No!" Kaelen gripped her hand tight. "Please, Lyra. If they know... they'll think I'm a monster. They'll banish me. Or worse."

  He looked at the dead baker standing silently in the shade. "I can control it. I just... I need time to figure it out. Please. Promise me you won't tell."

  Lyra looked at the dead animals, then back at her best friend’s terrified eyes. She took a deep breath.

  "Okay," she whispered. "I promise. But we are going home. Now. Before the sun fully rises."

  Kaelen nodded weakly. He waved his hand, and the dead baker and the animals retreated into the deep brush, hiding themselves.

  Together, they walked back to the village in silence, sneaking through the back alleys just as the first fishermen were heading to the docks.

  Kaelen slipped into his house, his heart racing. He made it to his room and shut the door, leaning against it, breathing hard. He was safe. Lyra wouldn't tell. He could figure this out.

  Then, the air in his room dropped twenty degrees.

  The bracelet didn't just pulse; it seared.

  A voice—not the hungry whisper of the bracelet, but a voice like cracking stone—exploded in his mind. It was Varkhul, speaking from the Shadow Keep.

  “Run, child. The Light is coming for you.”

  Kaelen gasped, clutching his head.

  A vision assaulted him. He saw himself standing in the village square. He saw a blinding golden light descending from the sky. He felt his skin blistering, burning, turning to ash. He felt the sensation of dying.

  He is coming to kill me.

  The realization hit Kaelen with the force of a physical blow. The God of Light knew. And He was coming to execute him.

  Panic, raw and primal, took over.

  "No..." Kaelen whimpered. "I don't want to die."

  “Then defend yourself,” the bracelet hissed, seizing the opportunity. “You need an army. A real army.”

  Kaelen didn't think. He didn't wait for Lyra. He opened his window and scrambled out.

  He didn't run to the forest. He ran to the Burial Mounds on the east side of the village—the place where generations of villagers lay resting.

  Kaelen fell to his knees in the damp earth of the graveyard. He slammed his hand onto the soil.

  "Rise," he screamed, his voice breaking with terror. "Rise and protect me!"

  The ground shook.

  It wasn't just one or two graves this time. The soil churned violently across the entire field. Hands—grey and withered—punched through the dirt. Dozens of them.

  Farmers, warriors, mothers who had passed... they pulled themselves from the earth, their eyes glowing with that same hollow grey light. They surrounded Kaelen, a wall of death standing between him and the sunrise.

  Kaelen stood in the center, tears streaming down his face, surrounded by his ancestors.

  He was ready for the fight.