The world did not wait for him to become whole.
While Ael searched for the fragments of his soul, others had moved. Kingdoms that once feared him now plotted. Empires stirred. And beneath the surface of the world—beneath every step he had taken—something darker had begun to rise.
The Shardbearer's awakening had not gone unnoticed.
Now, it was being challenged.
—
They were three days into the descent from the mountains when the messenger found them.
A half-dead rider, face blistered by frost and magic burns, collapsed at Ael's feet. In trembling hands, he held a scroll sealed in black wax.
Ael opened it silently.
The words were brief.
TO THE ONE WHO WALKED AGAIN:
The balance you broke cannot be mended by fragments alone.A crown was shattered. Now, a new one rises.
You refused the throne.I will not.
— The Hollow King
Ael folded the scroll without a word.
Elric spat on the ground. "The hell is a Hollow King?"
Lyra's eyes were wide. "It's a title from the Old Prophecies. The one who rules without soul. The echo of the First Age—the age before emotion. Before compassion."
"Before you," she said to Ael.
Ael's voice was calm. "It's not a prophecy. It's a challenge."
—
They made for the nearest city—Delenmar, a fortress on the edge of the central plains. Ael had once ruled it in his past life. Now, it was no longer loyal to his name.
The gates were scorched.
The towers shattered.
What remained of the city's defenders spoke in fear.
"A shadow army," the captain of the guard said. "They came through rifts in the sky. Not men… echoes. Black-eyed, empty-hearted. Their commander wore a mirror-mask. Said he spoke for the Hollow King."
Ael stared toward the burning horizon.
"So… he's already started."
Lyra frowned. "Then we have no time."
"No," Ael agreed. "But we do have a choice."
—
That night, they gathered in the ruined war room of Delenmar.
Maps of the continent were spread before them. Entire territories had already fallen into silence—kingdoms either subjugated or simply gone. The Hollow King wasn't marching like a conqueror.
He was devouring.
"What are you thinking?" Elric asked.
Ael stood quiet for a long time. Then, he said:
"I never wanted the crown back. But I see now… the world doesn't need a king."
He looked up, fire reflecting in his eyes.
"It needs a reason to resist."
Lyra smiled. "Then let's give them one."
—
The next morning, a single message was sent out across the lands—carried by hawks, wind-spirits, and whispers:
THE SHARD-BEARER WALKS AGAIN.
Not as a king.Not as a tyrant.But as the one who remembers what it means to feel.
Stand with him, or lose yourselves to the Hollow.
And the world began to stir.
Old allies took up arms.
Forgotten guilds resurfaced.
Mages who had once hidden their hearts prepared their spells.
Because the war that came would not be for land, or gold, or pride.
It would be for the soul of the world.
—
That night, beneath a star-choked sky, Ael stood alone.
He placed his hand on his chest—where the seven shards now pulsed together in harmony.
He was no longer just the man who once ruled.
He was the man who had learned why it mattered.
And soon, the world would remember his name.
Not in fear.
But in hope.