Far from the ruined halls of the Sovereign Court, Kael stood beneath the fractured sky. Black storm clouds hung heavy, streaked with veins of crimson lightning. The earth smelled of iron and ash, the aftermath of battle still clinging to his cloak.
He cleaned the blood from his blade with a slow, deliberate motion. Around him, the field was quiet at last. The enemy vanguard had been broken, their banners torn and scattered to the wind. His companions moved through the wreckage, tending to the wounded, gathering what little could be salvaged.
Lira crouched beside a fallen soldier, her hands trembling as she pressed cloth against a wound that no longer bled. She looked up at Kael, eyes glassy but steady. "It's over… for now."
Kael nodded but said nothing. His crimson eyes were distant, drawn toward the horizon where the storm brooded. There was a weight in the air, one that made his skin prickle—a sense that somewhere, something had shifted.
Behind him, Darius approached, dragging a dented helmet from the mud. "The Sovereign's hounds fight like rabid beasts, but even they know when to cut their losses. They'll regroup." He spat, tossing the helmet aside. "And when they do, it'll be worse."
Kael sheathed his blade, the steel sliding into its scabbard with a low hiss. "Then we'll be ready."
But even as he spoke, a ripple shivered through the air. It was not the tremor of battle, nor the storm above—it was something deeper. A pull.
Kael staggered for a heartbeat, gripping his chest. His companions turned, alarm flashing across their faces.
"Kael?" Lira asked sharply.
He exhaled, eyes narrowing. The sensation was unmistakable, though he could not name it. A fracture in the world itself, as though distant chains had broken.
Somewhere, far away, Kaelen's victory echoed like a thunderclap through the unseen threads that bound them. Kael had no name for it, but he felt it in his blood—in the strange, cursed fire that had marked him since birth.
Darius frowned. "What is it?"
Kael's hand lingered on the hilt of his sword. He raised his gaze to the storm, to the horizon where kingdoms and courts shifted in shadows. His voice was calm, though his aura rippled red against the black sky.
"Something has changed," he said at last. "And the world will not be the same when next we march."
The wind howled, carrying ash across the battlefield.
And far away, where the Sovereign Court lay in ruin, the echoes of Kaelen's rebellion began to stir the realm toward war.