There was no dawn.Only a vast gray sheet stretching endlessly over a world stripped of warmth. The Hollow Realms lay ahead, silent and starved, as if the gods themselves had turned their faces away. Kael stood at the threshold, his cloak whipping behind him in the dry wind. Ash drifted like snow, clinging to his skin, whispering warnings he didn’t bother to heed.Behind him, Raen adjusted the straps of his blade harness. Lira checked the seals on her wrist-plate, her fingers still trembling despite the cold steel.“You’re sure about this?” Raen asked.Kael didn’t answer right away. His gaze locked on the crumbling archway before them, half-buried in dead roots. It wasn’t just a passage—it was a severed wound in the world. An entrance carved by war and held together by forgotten curses.“The third shard is in there,” Kael said. “So yes. I’m sure.”Raen grunted. “Great. Another suicidal trip into a land where death doesn’t even bother to knock.”Lira stared into the fog beyond the arch

The sky trembled.Not from thunder, not from gods, but from something older than memory. A mark blazed overhead—neither Spiral nor Shard, neither cursed nor divine. It pulsed in harmony, glowing with strands of light Kael had never seen in any scripture, prophecy, or nightmare.It was his sigil.And the world didn’t know what to do with it.⸻Kael gasped as he woke, the burn of the Eye still seared in his bones.He lay on the floor of the molten spire, breath shallow, limbs shaking. Above him, the floating runes pulsed erratically, like fireflies caught in a storm. But the Eye of Ascension was gone. In its place hovered a shifting coil of light and shadow, spiraling in perfect balance.Lira knelt beside him, her hand pressed to his chest. “You were dead,” she whispered. “You stopped breathing.”Raen stood near the entrance, blade drawn, eyes scanning the horizon. “Not dead,” he said. “Just… changed.”Kael slowly sat up. His heartbeat no longer sounded like a war drum. It was quieter n

Kael didn’t rise.He couldn’t.The throne held him.Not with chains or force, but with memory. With power older than anything breathing in this world.His pulse slowed. His mind opened. And his soul split.He saw everything.The hidden cities lost beneath sand.The floating islands torn from the sky.The gods’ last war, not fought with blades, but with names.He saw the first king, the one who whispered the stars into silence. Saw the chains he forged, not to bind, but to listen. Every link a secret. Every ring a vow.The throne was no seat.It was a cage for truths that should never breathe.And now, Kael sat in it.The chains that had marked his arms slithered higher. Across his chest. Around his throat. They did not tighten. They pulsed with him. As if measuring him. Weighing every choice he had made.Behind him, Lira stepped forward.The sky above the Vale still churned, but the light had dulled. Shadows crawled faster than the sun.“Kael,” she called, her voice raw. “Say somethin

The wind coming from the east smelled of copper.Kael stood at the edge of the cliff where the world broke open. Behind him, the Ghost Marches were quiet again, their broken soldiers moving like smoke through shadow, sharpening blades, binding armor, whispering names that had not been spoken in generations.He didn’t speak.He listened.To the silence between the gusts.To the breath of something older than war.The Hollow Crown sat buried beyond the ash fields. Once a capital of kings, now a throne of ruins and secrets. It was where the old empire died. Where power had been stolen, twisted, buried. And Kael had chosen it.Not as a goal.As a beginning.The exiles were ready.Varyn wrapped her chains tighter around her forearms as she approached.“They’re calling you Warchild now.”Kael gave a faint smirk. “Let them call me worse.”She tilted her head. “You don’t like titles?”“I like truth.”Varyn glanced toward the soldiers preparing to march. “Truth is, they’ll die for you now. Eve

Kael did not remember standing.One heartbeat he was seated upon the Hollow Throne, fire threading through his veins like forgotten blood.The next, he was walking toward the edge of the broken dais, every step echoing with the thunder of chains unraveling.The sky boiled.The Warlords of the Ashen Court watched.And none moved.Not yet.His blade gleamed, no longer a weapon.A sentence.The throne behind him pulsed once. It did not shatter, but it cracked. Just slightly.And Kael knew the price of what he had done.The Hollow Crown was his now.Not just the seat. Not just the power.The cost too.It would take from him.Piece by piece.But it would give first.His voice rang through the air.“Those who follow death’s banner, come forward.”No command.No roar.Just a truth too sharp to ignore.Across the city, shadows twisted. The Ashen Court’s soldiers hesitated.Then one knelt.A second.A third.The fourth’s head exploded before it reached the ground.The veiled Warlord lifted its