Kaelith has fallen.

You tried desperately to reach him through the bond you shared, but you couldn't find him. His soul, the part of him you could always feel wasn't there anymore. And that's when you knew.

Dead. That could be the only explanation. So the Seers were telling the truth. The words hadn’t registered at first. Not when delivered so coldly, so cleanly—“The rebel was slain at dusk. Caught at the western ridge. Burned with the others.”

They didn’t say his name.

But they didn’t have to.

The news were followed by silence, deafening, crushing silence. You could see their mouths moving, speaking so coldly as if it didn't matter. But you couldn't hear them.

He couldn’t be gone.

Not Kaelith, not the boy who bled shadow and whispered starlight into your dreams. Not the man who held your hands like they were sacred things.