Mira lived longer.
She spent forty-seven years in public service and complained about all of them.
When she died, Aren spoke at her funeral.
He prepared a beautiful speech.
Then looked at the crowd and said:
“She would have interrupted me by now.”
Everyone laughed through tears.
He folded the speech away.
At sixty-seven, Aren began walking with a cane.
Oren would have mocked the irony.
He traveled less.
Young Keepers studied under him.
None needed royal blood.
That had been Aren’s most important reform.
The Covenant was no longer hereditary.
Giants could speak to anyone patient enough to learn.
Not every giant chose to.
But the old monopoly was gone.
One young apprentice asked, “Then what was special about you?”
Aren smiled.
“Bad timing.”
The apprentice did not accept that.
“You woke them.”
“My mother changed the Covenant.”
“You broke the Throne.”
“Oren read the inscription.”
“You still chose.”
Aren looked toward the mountains.
“Yes.”
That was fair.
Choice.
Not destiny.
Not blood.
The Kingmaker Sword remained in the archive until Aren was seventy-two.
That winter, it began glowing.
No one had touched it.
The blue gemstone ignited one night.
Aren came immediately.
He placed his hand on the hilt.
The old golden symbol returned faintly across his palm.
He had not seen it in decades.
A voice entered his mind.
Not Shadow.
Gaelor.
Come.
Aren laughed softly.
“Still dramatic.”
He traveled to the eastern mountains one final time.
The journey took eleven days.
He refused a carriage for the last mile.
Two apprentices helped him climb.
At a high valley, he found Gaelor.
Stone again.
Half covered in moss.
Aren touched the giant’s hand.
THUMM.
The eye opened.
Golden.
“You look terrible,” Aren said.
The giant’s voice entered his mind.
“You became small.”
“I was always small.”
Gaelor considered.
“True.”
Aren laughed.
They sat together.
Human and mountain.
The Keeper told Gaelor what had changed.
Corvin.
Mira.
The Council.
Schools.
The public kitchens Aren had demanded in every major city after remembering hunger.
The law preventing children from being imprisoned for theft of food below a certain value.
Gaelor listened.
Finally the giant asked:
“Are you satisfied?”
Aren stared toward the valley.
“No.”
Gaelor waited.
Aren smiled.
“But I’m grateful.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Aren asked the question he had kept since twelve.
“Why did the sword call me before I touched it?”