Kael's heart pounded in his chest, the sight of his brother — the face he'd once admired — standing before him sending a rush of conflicting emotions through his veins. His hand tightened around Ashrend, the flames of his Arcana swirling around him, ready for the fight.
"Vael..." Kael's voice was low, a mix of pain and fury. His brother's form was different — disheveled, discolored, as though he'd been twisted by the darkness of the Crimson Sickle's experiments. But there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes.
"Do you hate me, Kael?" Vael's voice was cold, almost hollow, as he stepped forward. "After everything? I was only doing what was necessary."
"You've gone too far," Kael growled. "This… this is not you!"
But the words barely left his mouth before Vael moved, faster than Kael expected. His form blurred with a speed that was almost unnatural. A fist of blackened flame rocketed toward Kael, forcing him to twist and dodge, narrowly avoiding the searing impact. The flames scorched the air, but Kael could feel something off about it. His brother's fire didn't burn like it used to.
"Stop pretending you can save me, Kael," Vael sneered. "You've already lost."
Kael's jaw clenched. He focused, centering himself, drawing in the power of his own fire, weaving it into the familiar warmth of Ashrend. The blade glowed brighter, the fire raging in his chest responding to the growing tension in the air. He couldn't afford to hold back. Not now.
With a scream of rage, Kael rushed forward, slashing at Vael's midsection. The blade cut through the air, its fiery trail leaving streaks of light. But Vael was quick, his body twisting in an unnatural way, ducking under the blade and countering with another fiery blast.
Kael stumbled back, feeling the heat scorch his skin. But he held his ground. His brother's flames weren't as powerful as they once were, as if they were only a shadow of their true strength.
"What have they done to you?" Kael hissed, barely avoiding another strike.
Vael's laugh echoed around the room, a hollow sound. "This is my true form, Kael. This is what I was meant to be. You were always the weak one. You were always too soft."
"Stop it!" Kael shouted, anger flooding his senses. He charged again, his sword slashing through the air with fiery precision, each strike cutting closer and closer to his brother.
But Vael stepped back, grinning cruelly. "You think you're going to defeat me? You'll never win."
Kael's chest heaved as he parried another blow. His brother was fast, relentless, but Kael's instincts and training were sharper. His movements flowed like a dance, every step in sync with his Arcana.
As Vael lunged forward, Kael finally saw it — the weak flicker in the flames. His brother's fire was dimmer, less intense. It wasn't the inferno Kael remembered. It was hollow.
And then Kael understood. Vael wasn't entirely here. This was a mere imitation — a twisted copy of his brother, fueled by the Crimson Sickle's Dual Arcana experiments. It was all a lie.
With renewed clarity, Kael struck. He dashed forward with a burst of fire and steel, slashing horizontally across Vael's chest. The flames around Ashrend burned hotter than ever, cutting through the air like a raging storm.
Vael staggered back, his body flickering for a moment as the illusion wavered. His face twisted in pain, but there was something wrong. Kael could see the strange shimmer around his brother's body, the faint flicker of dual Arcana energy melding together, but it wasn't the powerful fire Kael had known.
The illusion cracked.
In one swift, brutal motion, Kael drove Ashrend into the chest of his brother's form. The blade slid into the heart of the mimic — or what he thought was his brother. Fire surged around the wound as Kael twisted the blade, the heat flaring even brighter for a split second.
Vael's body convulsed, and the illusion shattered entirely, the fiery form dissipating into nothingness.
Kael gasped for breath, staring down at the husk of his brother's form, his chest still rising and falling with the weight of the battle. The fiery mimic of Vael had crumbled away, revealing nothing but a faint shimmer of dissipating Arcana energy.
His hands were trembling, his mind struggling to process the horror he had just witnessed. This wasn't the brother he had fought alongside. This wasn't the man who had stood by him in their youth, who had once snuck him out for late-night barbeques and whispered about their dreams for the future.
His eyes scanned the room in a daze, but then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. The real Vael — or at least, the one Kael had known — stood silently at the edge of the room, his cold eyes fixed on him.
Kael's heart clenched. The fire within him dimmed, not from a lack of strength, but from the weight of that one glance. This was it. The moment where everything changed.
"You've lost," Kael breathed, his voice hoarse. "This isn't you, Vael. This isn't who you were."
Vael met his gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker — a brief glimmer of something familiar. But it was gone before Kael could reach it.
"You're wrong, Kael," Vael said, his voice hollow, distant, like the words were coming from a place far removed from the brother Kael had once known. "I've always known what's necessary. What we've been taught. What we've always had to do."
Kael stepped forward, his fists tightening. "You're not the same. What happened to you? Where's the brother I looked up to? The one who told me not to be afraid?"
Vael's lips twitched, a subtle but unmistakable smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Then, with a swift motion, Vael tossed something toward Kael. It was a folded piece of paper — a letter. Kael caught it instinctively, the weight of the paper feeling far heavier than it should have.
Vael's cold eyes softened, just slightly, but enough for Kael to notice. "The Crimson Sickle is always open for you, Kael. I need you. They need you." His words hung in the air, thick with a strange finality.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed. Vael turned his back on him, his figure fading into the shadows of the compound.
"You don't have to do this," Kael called out desperately, but his voice was swallowed by the empty space.
Vael's voice came back to him, distant, as though it were an echo from the past: "It's already done, Kael. And soon, you'll see. Power is the only thing that can protect you. And I'll always be waiting."
Kael stood frozen for a moment, staring at the letter in his hands. The letter that Vael had left behind, a final offering, a plea from the brother who had once cared for him. The brother who had been buried beneath the weight of the Crimson Sickle's dark promise.
As the last of Vael's figure disappeared into the shadows, Kael felt the weight of the words press on him like a thousand stones. His brother was still in there — somewhere, deep inside — but he was lost to the very thing that had corrupted him.
His fists clenched around the letter, a burning resolve kindling inside him. No matter what it took, Kael would get his brother back.
He wasn't about to give up on him.