The wind turned colder.
Even the birds stopped flying overhead. The air felt heavy, like it was watching. Judging.
Kairo adjusted the straps of his cloak and stepped onto the dirt path leading north. Behind him, Lira and Iri followed quietly.
No one said a word.
They didn't need to.
The message was clear now.
The Bone Throne was real. The voice wasn't just inside Kairo's head. And whatever power had cursed him was part of something much older… and much darker.
And it wanted him.
Alive.
Awake.
Leading.
They walked for hours.
The land around them changed.
The trees stopped growing. The grass thinned out. The soil turned gray. Like even nature was afraid of what lay ahead.
Kairo noticed something strange in the air.
The further they walked, the louder the whispers got.
But they weren't coming from outside.
They were inside him.
Whispers of the cursed. Lost voices. Pleas. Warnings.
"Don't go."
"He'll change you."
"You were better off dead."
"Turn back."
But louder than all of them… one voice stood above the rest.
"Come to me, Kairo Vale."
"You're almost home."
By dusk, they reached a hill overlooking a vast, dead plain.
Ash drifted across the dirt like snow. The sky was sickly orange, stained by something unnatural.
The Fields of Dusk.
No animals. No trees. Just silence.
Lira stepped up beside Kairo. "Well. This looks awful."
Iri hugged her rabbit tighter. "I don't like it here."
Kairo narrowed his eyes. "Something's moving out there."
In the distance, shapes shifted through the dust.
Tall. Thin. Human-like.
But they didn't walk.
They glided.
And every now and then, they turned their heads in Kairo's direction.
They were watching. Waiting.
"Cursed spirits," Lira said. "They don't attack unless provoked."
"They know me," Kairo muttered. "They've seen me in their dreams. Just like I've seen them."
They set camp under a rocky arch that night.
Kairo couldn't sleep.
He sat at the edge of the camp, staring into the orange mist.
Lira approached.
"You're scared," she said.
"I'm not."
She raised an eyebrow.
"…Okay. I am," he admitted.
"Good."
He looked at her. "Why's that good?"
"Means you're still human."
Kairo chuckled lightly. "I don't feel human anymore."
"You bleed."
"Barely."
"You crack jokes."
He gave her a small smile.
"See?" she said. "Still human."
Suddenly, Iri let out a small gasp.
They turned.
She was staring into the mist.
"I saw someone," she said.
Kairo stood. "Where?"
"There," she pointed.
And then… a figure stepped forward.
Not a spirit.
Not cursed.
A boy.
Maybe sixteen.
Snow-white hair. A tattered scarf. Pale eyes like frozen rivers.
He wasn't scared.
He was smiling.
"You must be Kairo," the boy said.
Kairo stepped closer. "Who are you?"
"Name's Solin."
"And why are you here?"
Solin's smile faded.
"I'm here to kill you."
Lira moved instantly, drawing her blade.
But Solin didn't flinch.
He raised his hand, and the ground shook.
Dark symbols spread beneath his feet.
Cursed magic.
But not like Kairo's.
Wilder. Hungrier.
"You're just a pawn," Solin said. "You don't understand the curse. You don't know who gave it to you. But I do."
Kairo's eyes narrowed. "Who did?"
Solin tilted his head. "The first one. The real King. The one on the Bone Throne."
Lira stepped between them. "You said you came to kill him. Why?"
Solin's smile returned.
"Because he's the wrong one."
He pointed at Kairo.
"He's not supposed to sit on that throne."
"I am."