Chapter 682: 682

The words that came were hoarse, almost swallowed by pain, but they were steady. "You can kill me," Gram managed. "You can take your coin and your trinkets. But you’ll never take what I need from that man, not while I breathe." He spat the words out like a challenge and, for a moment, the camp felt the pull between two certainties: Kael’s control and Gram’s desperate purpose.

Kael regarded him for a long, steady beat. Around them, the men shifted uneasily, hands brushing the hilts of blades and the grips of crossbows. The tension in the air was thick, waiting for Kael to make a move.

Then Kael’s mouth tilted, not into a smile, but something close. A dry, humorless sound escaped him: a short, restrained laugh.

"Since you’re so stubborn," he said at last, his tone almost casual, "clean yourself up. I’ve got a proposal you might actually be interested in."

He straightened and walked back to his spot near the fire, lowering himself onto a flat rock that served as a seat. One of his men wordlessly handed him a plate piled with roasted meat and vegetables. Kael accepted it without looking up, already dismissing Gram from his immediate concern.

For a moment, Gram just stood there, still half doubled from the pain in his gut, unsure if this was a trick or a reprieve. Kael didn’t glance his way again. The man ate with slow, methodical bites, his expression neutral as if the violent outburst moments ago had been nothing more than routine.

Taking the opportunity, Gram gathered what dignity he could. He poured the remaining water from his cup over his hands and face, wiping away the sweat, vomit, and dirt clinging to his skin. The coolness stung, but it grounded him. The pain in his stomach dulled to a low, persistent ache.

When he was done, one of the adventurers wordlessly gestured toward a spare log near the fire. Gram hesitated, then took the seat, the heat warming his face and hands. Across from him, Kael tore another piece of bread and chewed slowly, his sharp eyes fixed on Gram over the rim of his plate.

"First," Kael began, his voice even now, no anger, no mockery, just quiet focus. "Is there anything you can tell us about the disaster that struck your home? Something you saw, heard... anything?"

The shift in tone caught Gram off guard. There was something behind Kael’s words, not curiosity alone, but concern. Even the others seemed to listen more closely.

Gram frowned, searching his memory. His mind felt foggy, like a nightmare just out of reach. "I..." He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I don’t remember seeing anything. There was no sign. No warning."

Kael’s brow furrowed slightly. "Nothing at all?"

Gram shook his head. "We were asleep," he said quietly. "All of us. The night was calm, peaceful even. Then..." He hesitated, eyes distant as the memory flickered back. "We woke up... and everything was gone."

Kael leaned forward a little. "Gone?"

"Yes," Gram murmured, his voice trembling faintly. "The ground, our homes , everything. It was like the earth had been torn away. We were... in the sky. Among the clouds."

A murmur rippled through Kael’s men. Even those hardened by years of strange sightings and battles against the cursed shifted uneasily at the description. Kael didn’t move. His eyes narrowed, studying Gram’s face for signs of delirium or deceit.

"In the sky," he repeated slowly, as though tasting the words.

Gram nodded, his hands curling tightly around the cloth in his lap. "We fell... one by one. I don’t know how I survived. Maybe I wasn’t meant to."

The campfire popped loudly, sending a spray of sparks into the night. No one spoke. Even Kael’s expression softened, if only for a heartbeat, before the mask returned.

Gram finished recounting his story, the words hanging heavy in the still air. Kael gave a single, thoughtful nod, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither spoke. The crackling of the campfire filled the silence, the sound of wood splitting and embers sighing against the cold night.

Gram couldn’t stand it. The waiting. The quiet. The way Kael’s sharp eyes seemed to look through him rather than at him. His fingers twitched restlessly over the scrap of cloth in his lap. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he asked, "What proposal do you have for me?"

Kael didn’t even look up from his plate. "Let me finish my meal," he said, his tone calm but edged with authority that left no room for argument.

Gram fell silent, frustration simmering beneath his grief. He watched Kael eat, slow, deliberate bites, as though every motion served to buy him time to think. The others around the fire had relaxed somewhat, but their ears remained tuned to the conversation, sensing the weight of something important.

Kael wasn’t stalling out of indifference. He was thinking. Turning over every word Gram had said, every possibility that might connect the strange events to the wider pattern he’d begun to notice across the lands. He did have a proposal for the broken man before him, but it rested on fragile ground, little more than his own deduction and what scraps of truth he could piece together.

Finally, after a long silence, Kael pushed aside the empty plate and took a cup of water. He drank, swished it once in his mouth, and swallowed, as though cleansing himself before speaking.

Then he fixed his gaze on Gram. "The disaster that struck your home," Kael began slowly, his tone measured, "was no accident."

Gram froze.

"It was a deliberate act," Kael continued. "A punishment directed at your king for his past transgressions. Everything and everyone else caught in it..." He paused, his eyes darkening. "...were just collateral."

The words hit like stones thrown into still water.

Gram’s breath hitched. His hand clenched around the scrap of cloth, the fabric creasing between his fingers. "That useless king," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I knew he was involved... But" He stopped himself. He knew his king’s power, his influence, his reach. Who could possibly dare to punish a man like that?

A thought flickered across his mind, a faint, dreadful spark that grew into certainty. His eyes widened as the name, the race, formed in his mind.

Kael caught the change in his expression. He said nothing, only gave a slow, grim nod confirming the suspicion that had just dawned on Gram.

All color drained from Gram’s face. His hands trembled. His lips parted, but no words came. The firelight danced weakly across his hollow features, reflecting in eyes now stripped of all defiance.

If before he’d clung to the faint, desperate delusion of standing before his king, of demanding answers, of finding justice, that illusion now shattered completely.

Because now he knew who had truly done it.

And no mortal, no army, no king, could ever hope to stand before the godlings.

The weight of that realization crushed him more surely than Kael’s blow ever could. He bowed his head, unable to even speak, the cloth of his daughter’s garment trembling in his clenched hands.

A roar threatened to tear itself from Gram’s throat, a raw, wordless sound of grief and fury but the cold sharpness in Kael’s eyes froze it there. His teeth clenched; his chest heaved with the effort of holding it back.

Why? Why had Kael told him this? It had been easier before, when he’d had his delusion to cling to the fragile, comforting lie that all of it had been the fault of a corrupt king, a man he could hate, confront, maybe even "strike" down. Now that illusion was gone, shattered by the truth Kael had dropped on him like a blade.

Gram’s shoulders sagged, his head bowed low. The firelight cast his shadow long and thin, a broken outline trembling against the dirt. Shame pressed down on him like a weight; his weakness, once hidden behind anger and defiance, lay bare for everyone to see.

Kael watched him, but there was no triumph in his gaze. No satisfaction at breaking a man’s spirit. His expression was grim, touched with something that looked almost like pity, though his face remained composed. When he finally spoke again, his tone was quieter, and softer.

"All hope is not yet lost for you, Gram."

The words barely reached him. Gram didn’t move, didn’t even seem to hear. His despair was a heavy fog swallowing every sound. But Kael went on.

"I have... friends," Kael said after a moment, choosing his words carefully. "People in high positions. The ones who employ me and others like me, they’re not blind to what’s happening. There are whispers of a plan forming... a reckoning. Justice, for those responsible."

He let that hang in the air, his gaze locked on Gram’s bowed figure.

"Your king," Kael added softly, "and the ones above, are not beyond reach."

The faint crackle of the fire filled the silence that followed. Slowly, almost painfully, Gram lifted his head. His eyes hollow moments ago now flickered with a faint, desperate spark.