Sai didn't sleep that night,
She sat at the small wooden desk in the corner of their hidden room, Kael's coat draped over her shoulders. The single candle between them flickered low, casting soft shadows on the faded map they'd unrolled hours earlier. Her fingers traced the ink lines again and again, memorizing curves and markers like they were the only lifeline she had left.
Across from her, Kael dozed lightly on the worn mattress, one hand resting protectively near the pendant tucked under his shirt. His breathing was uneven, and every so often, his brows would twitch in his sleep, like he was fighting ghosts even behind closed eyes. Sai's eyes never left him, She remembered how his voice broke when he talked about the fire, the way his hand trembled when he held that blood-stained letter. The weight he carried in silence. A boy born into power but abandoned by it, a heart raised in the rubble of other people's mistakes, and still, he looked for answers, Still, he protected her.
She rose quietly, moved to where he lay, and crouched beside him. With slow fingers, she brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, then let her hand settle lightly on his chest, where the pendant pulsed gently beneath the fabric.
"I'll carry this with you," she whispered. "No matter where it leads."
---
Morning crept in slowly, Gray light poured through the crack in the boarded window. Kael stirred, eyes blinking open to find Sai watching him, her chin placed on the edge of the bed, "How long have you been sitting there?" he asked, voice deep.
"Long enough to know your snoring could scare a grown man," she teased,
He chuckled, sitting up. "You stayed up, didn't you?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled the map forward. "There's something strange here. This marker, it's not a location. I think it's a person."
Kael frowned, leaning in. "What do you mean?" She pointed to a name scribbled in a looping, almost childlike handwriting. "M. Aro — Keeper of Marks."
Kael sat up straighter. "I've heard that name before. My mother mentioned someone with initials M.A. in her old notebook. Said they knew things no one else should, "You think they're still alive?" "If they are," Kael said, "they're hiding for a reason."
They dressed up quickly, blending into the early city crowd. Sai wore her hood pulled low. Kael kept his pendant hidden beneath his shirt and his expression unreadable, They asked questions in quiet corners of bookstores and old train stations. Each time they mentioned "Aro," people either shook their heads or backed away.
Finally, at a crumbling antique shop in Eastbridge, an elderly man lifted his eyes from a box of rusted keys and whispered, "The man with the branded face?"
Kael froze. "Branded?"
The man nodded, motioning them closer. "He used to come here for sealing wax. Always wore gloves. But once, I saw the mark on his hand when he reached for a coin. Looked like a crown carved into his flesh. Burned there." Sai and Kael exchanged a look, "Where can we find him?" Sai asked.
The man hesitated at first, then slowly pointed toward a narrow alleyway across the street. "Down that road, past the iron gate. There's a door with a sun etched into it. Knock three times. He answers when he wants."
---
The door was exactly as the man described. Worn oak, a sun carved into the center. Sai knocked once, twice, and then three times. Nothing happened.
They waited.
Then the door creaked open, A man in a dark coat stood in the shadows, half of his face hidden beneath a cloth mask. Only one eye visible, gray, sharp, and not entirely human, "You shouldn't be here," he said.
"We're looking for M. Aro," Kael said calmly.
"You've found him." He looked them over, his gaze settling on Kael's chest, "You wear the mark."
Kael nodded slowly and removed the pendant, letting it rest in his open palm, Aro stepped aside without another word.
---
Inside, the room was part study, part sanctuary. Shelves of ledgers lined the walls. Symbols filled the ceiling. In the center sat a wide table covered with scattered parchments and sealing wax in shades of red and silver, Aro removed his mask. The brand was there angry, precise burned into his cheek like a memory no time could fade, "Do you know what that pendant is?" he asked, Kael hesitated. "Not fully. Only that it's connected to my family… and that people want it destroyed." Aro nodded. "Because it's not just a pendant. It's a ledger key." He walked to the table, pulled out a worn book bound in black leather, and placed it in front of them. The cover had no title, "This," he said, "is the Keeper's Ledger. It holds every name, every betrayal, every broken oath tied to the crown you were born into."
Kael stared at the book.
"But why me?" he asked. "I never wanted a throne. I don't even know if I believe in it."
"You don't need to believe," Aro said gently. "But you carry the blood. The mark. That makes you visible to those who do believe. And dangerous to those who fear what's written in here."
Sai leaned closer. "Can it protect him?"
Aro looked at her, his voice softening. "Not just protect. It can guide. But only if he's willing to accept what's in the pages."
Kael reached forward, hand hovering over the cover. His fingers trembled.
"Whatever's in here," he said, glancing at Sai, "I'm not facing it alone."
Sai smiled faintly and touched his hand. "You never were.
That night, as the lights of the city blinked through the window of a safehouse Aro had offered them, Kael sat on the edge of the bed, holding the book in his lap.
Sai joined him, her head on his shoulder.
"I keep thinking about what you said back in the room," she whispered. "About never being enough. About the fire. The fear." He closed his eyes. "It never left." "I know," she said. "But I'm here. And I'm not afraid of your past." He turned, searching her face. "Even if it gets darker?" Sai leaned in, lips brushing his. "Then we light something brighter." Their kiss was soft at first. Familiar. But as the weight of their choices pressed into the silence, the kiss deepened, urgent and necessary, like the last breath before a storm.