The chain of light trembled.
Kaen gritted his teeth, feeling the raw force of the Behemoth thrashing against the bond. Every second the chain held, it leeched strength from him — and he was already dangerously close to collapse.
"Kaen!" Lira grabbed his shoulder. "You can't hold it forever!"
He barely heard her over the pounding in his ears. His blood felt like fire in his veins, every heartbeat shaking the fragile balance he'd conjured.
The Behemoth roared again, chains creaking, and for a terrifying moment, Kaen saw something in its burning eyes—not just rage. Recognition.
Not of him, but of the blood that sang through him.
A memory not his own surged through Kaen's mind—a battlefield shrouded in smoke, figures clad in silver armor falling before titanic monsters. At the center, a woman with silver hair raised a blade wreathed in light, her voice commanding beasts the size of mountains.
His mother.
The memory snapped away like breaking glass.
Kaen gasped. The sigil beneath him flickered.
I'm not ready, he thought. I'm not strong enough yet.
The Behemoth sensed the weakness. It yanked harder, the ground around Kaen splintering with each strained heartbeat.
Lira cursed under her breath and stepped forward, drawing a jagged dagger from her belt. She slashed her own palm and pressed the bleeding hand against Kaen's back.
"Share it," she whispered fiercely. "Take mine."
A surge of energy flooded into Kaen, wild and burning — not pure like the pendant's light, but strong enough.
Together, their blood sang.
The chain snapped tighter around Skarn, dragging the Behemoth to its knees with an earth-shaking thud. Dust and ash burst outward, cloaking them in darkness.
When it cleared, Skarn knelt before Kaen, shackled by crimson light, snarling but no longer thrashing.
Breathless, Kaen staggered forward, hand outstretched.
"Sleep," he commanded.
The Behemoth's burning eyes dimmed.
Slowly, impossibly, it obeyed—sinking into the shattered earth, the chains wrapping tighter until only the faint glow of buried power remained beneath the stone.
Silence.
True, aching silence.
Kaen collapsed, and Lira caught him before he hit the ground fully.
"You absolute idiot," she said hoarsely, but there was no anger—only relief and fear tangled together.
Kaen gave a broken laugh. "Had to try."
"You almost died trying."
He didn't answer. His mind was drifting, too heavy to fight the pull of exhaustion. But before the darkness swallowed him, he heard it—
A voice, clearer now.
Not a whisper.
A call.
> "Kaen… find me… before they do."
Elsewhere…
Beneath a ruined citadel deep within a blackened forest, a council of figures gathered around a burning mirror.
Seven shadows, cloaked in robes stitched from voidstuff, their faces hidden by ancient masks.
The Veiled Seven.
In the mirror, the image of Kaen binding the Behemoth shimmered, then faded.
A soft, cruel voice broke the silence.
"The Bloodline stirs."
Another voice, sharper, almost gleeful. "The Hollow Crown will not be pleased."
A third, cold and heavy. "We must move. The boy must not reach the Gate."
The leader of the Seven stepped forward, their mask shaped like a grieving woman's face.
They raised a hand, and a ripple of black energy spread out.
> "Release the Blood Warden. Send Mireya."
> "And send Sarkon." Another voice added, almost hungrily. "Let him play his song of endings."
A chorus of agreement, hissing like a nest of serpents.
The hunt had begun.
To be continued...