“The inner circle?” I ask.
Thane grins—quick, unguarded. “My brothers,” he says. “Not by blood—but they’re family. We grew up together. Trained together since we could hold weapons. They’ll be helping with your training.”
There’s a note of pride in his voice, softened by something almost fond.
“I know you’ve seen them around the outpost training the other soldiers—I asked them to give some space until you . . . ” his voice trails off while he studies me. “They’re waiting for us,” he says as he stands, brushing the dust from his hands.
I nod, but a flicker of unease coils behind my ribs. Another room full of people I have to prove myself to.
I rise slowly, the chill still clinging to my legs.
“Shall we go?” Thane asks, his voice smooth. He gestures me forward with one hand, the other tucked neatly behind his back like some practiced gentleman. It’s unexpectedly graceful. Controlled, like everything he does.
I fall into step beside him.
“Their names are Garrick and Jarek Kaelen—brothers. Garrick’s the oldest and loudest. Jarek is steady—keeps Garrick in line.” A flicker of amusement edges his words. “And Rian Morne. Quiet, but don’t let that fool you—he misses nothing.”
He glances over. “They’re my second, third, and fourth. My most trusted. And now that you’re here—they’ll be yours too.”
As we start walking, he says, “I asked Lyra to join us when I saw her training earlier—she should already be there.” His eyes flick to me. “We’ll have an early dinner. Let you meet them properly.” A pause. “Valen will be there too. And tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to Captain Elaris—he’s in charge of this outpost.”
He turns back to the trail ahead. “He’s a good man.”
“Are we going to the mess hall?” I ask.
Thane gives a polite smile. “No. We have a private dining room on the other side of the outpost. Gives us a chance to have more of an intimate gathering.”
We move through the outpost together, our steps falling into an easy rhythm. I don’t know the layout well yet, so I make a point to notice stone archways, banners marking the halls, the sun casting a hard edge along the southern tower.
I study the path. Visual anchors. Markers I can hold onto later.
The corridor narrows, walls rising higher as the stronghold unfolds in quiet layers—worn steps, dragonflame lanterns flickering, and the steady clang of sparring steel in the distance.
I trail my fingers against the cool stone walls, trying to anchor myself to this new life.
A tall spire looms ahead, black banners rippling from its peak.
“That’s the Signal Tower,” Thane says beside me, catching where I’m looking. “If the wards ever fail or we’re under siege, it’s the first to alert the capital.”
We pass a lower courtyard where several young recruits are sparring. I spot the burn-scorched walls, faded training dummies, and half-cracked stones beneath their feet.
“That’s the old ring,” he continues. “My brothers and I trained there when we were their age. It’s been rebuilt more times than I can count.”
We round a bend, and I slow at the sight of a circular stone fountain—dry now, but clearly ancient. Strange runes are etched into the basin, their meaning probably lost to time.
Thane glances at it, then back at me. “No one knows who built that. Some say it was there before the outpost. Valen thinks it predates the Fire Clan altogether.”
We keep walking, and I start noticing more:
Reinforced gates leading down into shadow—underground storage, maybe.
A sunken garden tucked between two battlements, overgrown but clearly cared for.
A flat boulder, blackened with scorch marks that could only have come from dragonfire.
We don’t speak.
I don’t need to. There’s enough noise in my head already. Thane stays quiet beside me, but not like he doesn’t know what to say. More like he’s waiting—to see if I will.
