Kael didn’t sleep that night. Even as the moon rose high above Avelryn, he remained wide awake in his small, creaky room at the inn, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts tangled together like a knot in a thread, impossible to untangle. The girl’s words from earlier swirled around him, haunting the edges of his mind.

  Maybe you’re wrong.

  Her voice echoed in the silence, a soft challenge to the thick armor of cynicism Kael had built over centuries of failure. He'd spent so long convincing himself that nothing mattered, that fate was just a cruel game meant to be endured, that the idea of change—real, meaningful change—seemed like a distant fantasy. And yet…

  The words persisted, echoing through the quiet room. You’re not just the hero, Kael Ardan. You’re a person, too.

  He rubbed his temples, as if he could somehow will the thoughts away. But it wasn’t so easy. He’d walked away from the prophecy, from the gods, from the world’s desperate cries for salvation. He had made his choice. He had chosen apathy. But now… now there was this flicker of doubt. This unsettling feeling that he might have missed something.

  It was maddening.

  By dawn, the sun’s first rays slipped through the small gap in the shutters, casting weak light over the bare room. Kael sat up slowly, his muscles stiff from an entire night of turning restlessly. The village outside was still quiet, the only sounds the faint chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

  He couldn’t stay here.

  He had told himself that a hundred times, but something felt different today. The weight of the village’s stillness pressed down on him, an oppressive silence that smothered his thoughts. He needed to move—needed to leave before this doubt grew into something real, something that could pull him back into the cycle he’d tried so hard to break.

  Grabbing his cloak and the few belongings he’d packed, Kael walked out of the room and down the creaky stairs. The widow, Mira, was busy in the kitchen, humming as she stirred something in a pot. She gave him a half-hearted smile when he passed.

  “Morning, sir,” she said. “Off already?”

  Kael gave a brief nod, not in the mood for pleasantries. He wasn’t one for small talk, especially not in a place like this. The village had already begun to wake up—the soft clatter of footsteps, the jingle of harnesses being adjusted for the day’s work.

  As he stepped outside, the early morning fog still clung to the ground, wrapping itself around the cobblestone streets like a shroud. Kael started walking, not sure where he was going—just away.

  But as his feet carried him down the path, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see nothing but the empty road behind him. Yet, there, standing at the edge of the village, was the girl from yesterday.

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  Liora.

  She was watching him again, her eyes following him with the same quiet curiosity. The same piercing gaze that had unsettled him earlier.

  Kael kept walking, pretending not to notice, but something in him stirred. It was the pull of the thread.

  “Leaving already?” Her voice cut through the stillness, soft but firm.

  Kael didn’t stop. He didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t want to face the questions she might ask. But something about the way she spoke—the quiet weight behind her words—made him hesitate.

  “I’m not staying,” he said without looking back. “There’s nothing here for me.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Then, her footsteps caught up with his, slow and deliberate. She matched his pace, walking beside him, but didn’t say anything more.

  The tension between them was palpable, and Kael couldn’t help but feel the tug in his chest. It wasn’t the weight of prophecy. It wasn’t the duty of a hero. It was something simpler. A reminder that, for all his cynicism, he was still a person, too.

  “I think you’re wrong,” Liora said quietly, her voice just barely audible over the wind.

  Kael stopped, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t help it—he turned to face her.

  “What do you mean?” His voice was sharper than he intended, a mixture of frustration and disbelief. He wasn’t used to people challenging him, especially not after everything he’d been through.

  She looked up at him, her expression calm, almost like she had expected this reaction. “You think that because you’ve failed in the past, you can’t try again. But what if the world hasn’t given up on you? What if the only thing that’s broken… is you?”

  Kael clenched his jaw, refusing to let her see how much her words stung. The last thing he needed was to feel guilty about the years of suffering he had endured. The countless lifetimes that had led him to this point.

  “I’m not who you think I am,” he said, his voice low, warning her to back off.

  Liora didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, meeting his gaze with the same quiet determination. “Then who are you?”

  Kael’s heart twisted in his chest. He didn’t know anymore. The man he had been in so many lives—those versions of himself who fought and failed and died—none of them seemed like a part of him anymore. Not the hero. Not the villain. Not the sage or the martyr.

  He was just… Kael Ardan.

  A man too tired to care anymore.

  “I’m no one,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the wind.

  Liora took a step closer, her presence steady and unwavering. “I don’t believe that. And I think you know that, too.”

  For a long moment, neither of them moved. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

  Finally, Kael turned away. “I can’t do this. I’m not the person you think I am.”

  But as he walked away, he felt something inside him crack—just a little. Something deep down that he had buried for so long, something that wasn’t entirely gone.

  Maybe Liora was right. Maybe it wasn’t the world that was broken.

  Maybe it was him.