Inside the secret chamber, silence cloaked Siora, Aylea, Thalen, and the others like a second skin. The thick stone walls offered little comfort; the weight of Kael's laughter beyond them sent chills deeper than the cold ever could. Then, suddenly—a soft thump broke the tension. Something slid through the ventilation slit above and fell onto the floor.
A scroll.
Siora approached cautiously, unrolling the fragile parchment. The ink was old, smudged in places, but the words still pulsed with chilling clarity.
"She will be born—Radiant soul, unbroken spirit."
Her breath caught. Only one face came to mind: Lyra. Left in that lonely annex, unloved and forgotten, and yet still burning so brightly. She had carried hope like a flame, untouched by bitterness.
"She will wake him—The Cursed One. And with him, the tide shall turn."
Siora's hands trembled. She remembered that night in the cave—Kael, stirring from an eternal slumber, eyes snapping open the moment Lyra cried out. He had awoken for her.
"But beware... The darkness fears him not. It seeks him."
She paused.
Why would the darkness seek him? What lay in Kael's past that drew shadow closer rather than pushing it away?
Before she could gather her thoughts, a distant crash shook the room.
Outside, Kael had finished his deadly game with the elders.
He strode through the front doors of the main house, calm and unhurried. His blade dragged beside him, leaving a thin scar in the stone floor. He stopped before Daran and Auren. No words were spoken. He sat cross-legged before them and calmly planted his blade upright in the earth.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't joy.
It was madness unfurling.
Auren and Daran stood frozen, unsure what this eerie calm meant. But before they could move, Suddenly, a blade flashed through the air. A cloaked figure lunged from the shadows, striking toward Kael with brutal force.
The steel met nothing but the faint shimmer of Kael's afterimage—he had already moved, smirking with eerie calm.
Kael tilted his head, studying his attacker. "Another one?" he murmured.
The cloaked intruder steadied his grip, his breath ragged behind the mask.
"You should've stayed asleep, Kael," the figure hissed.
Kael's expression changed.
Not rage. Not fear.
Delight.
He stepped forward, blades spinning once in his palms like extensions of his own will.
"Ah… So they do still remember me."
And then the fight exploded into motion again—brutal, fast, and unforgiving.
A harsh kick sent the intruder crashing out the window. Kael followed instantly. Outside, their duel continued with blistering speed—Kael taunting and dodging, the masked fighter striking furiously.
But Kael was toying with him. He parried with the blade's hilt, knocked the assailant back with precise kicks, and never once used the sharpened edge.
Bored, Kael finally glanced back at the window above. Auren and Daran were watching.
Kael launched upward, scaling the wall in a heartbeat and flipping through the window like a whisper of death. He landed with a low crouch and turned to face them, grinning.
Daran moved first.
Steel sang as he charged. Auren followed, blades flashing. Their coordination was sharp, practiced—but Kael danced between their blows, parrying with unnatural grace. Then, mid-swing, Kael twisted and slashed sideways. Not at them.
At the wall.
Stone cracked. A slab of the secret chamber's wall buckled and fell, revealing the frightened group hiding within.
Kael's face changed.
He smiled.
With one more sweep of his blade, he shattered the door.
"Daran! Now!" Auren shouted.
Understanding instantly, Daran broke formation and rushed to the group. "Run! Get to the lower path!" he barked.
Siora grabbed Aylea and Thalen and fled, the others on her heels.
Kael started toward them.
Auren intercepted him with a full-body charge, blade clashing. Kael caught Auren's sword barehanded, blood dripping from his palm. He yanked Auren forward, flung both of them through the broken wall, and sent Auren tumbling.
Auren rolled, regained his footing.
Kael tossed Auren's sword in front of the fleeing group, a message without words.
He hovered in mid-air now, standing impossibly still above them all, cloak rustling in the windless night.
They were gathered in the courtyard, breathless, staring up.
And Kael—with bloodied hands and a monster's smile—looked down.
No one knew what he would do next.
Not even Kael himself.