The rain did not stop.
It fell like an unending curtain, washing away blood but never the stench. The battlefield looked cleaner now, less like a graveyard and more like a drowned wasteland, but Kael knew better. The corpses still lay beneath the mud, eyes staring upward through layers of filth, silently accusing.
Kael sat at the broken arch of the watchtower, Abyssfang across his knees. The blade no longer laughed; it only hummed, as though drunk on blood. His white-tipped locks stuck to his face, heavy with water.
Taye sprawled nearby, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His once-electric blue locks looked dull in the gray light. Even his shadows seemed subdued, crawling lazily along the stones.
Nia, however, remained composed. Her crimson-dyed locks glistened like fresh blood, her daggers cleaned and sheathed with meticulous care. She stood at the tower's opening, scanning the horizon.
"Wraithborn aren't supposed to come this far north," she said finally. "The Abyss' corruption doesn't seep past the Deadline River. Not unless…"
She trailed off.
Kael finished for her. "Not unless something dragged them here."
Nia turned, her gaze sharp. "Or someone."
The thought hung heavy in the air.
The Domains were supposed to be balanced. At least, that's what the old scholars claimed. Five realms of power, each feeding into the other, like a hand with five fingers. But when one finger swelled too large, it crushed the rest.
Kael had seen it. He was born in the Verdant Domain, where jungles swallowed entire cities and shamans bound spirits to their flesh. He'd watched his village burn when Crimson raiders came from the south — warlords who treated human lives like coin.
He'd sworn he would never bow again. Not to raiders. Not to kings. Not to gods.
But the Abyss had found him anyway.
He glanced down at Abyssfang. The sword's surface was slick, black as obsidian, faintly pulsing with veins of crimson light. He could feel it breathing, as though it were alive.
"You're thinking too much," the blade whispered, voice curling through his skull. "Thoughts are for cowards. Swing me. Bleed them. That's where answers hide."
Kael clenched his jaw. "Shut up."
Nia's eyes flicked to him. "Talking to your sword again?"
He forced a grin. "It's better company than Taye when he snores."
From the floor, Taye groaned and rolled over. "I heard that. And I don't snore. My shadows do."
Even exhausted, he still found a joke. It was his only way of keeping sane.
Kael envied him for it.
By dawn, the rain had thinned to a mist. Smoke rose on the horizon — not from the battlefield, but farther west, toward the Crimson Domain.
Nia spotted it first. "That's no village fire. That's a war camp."
Kael stood, shoulders stiff. "More raiders?"
"Not raiders." Her voice dropped, grave. "An army."
Taye sat up, alarm clear in his bloodshot eyes. "Tell me you're joking. We just crawled out of a pile of corpses, and now you're saying we'll get buried in a bigger one?"
Nia shook her head. "The Crimson Thrones have been stirring for months. Rumors say the Warlord of Ash seeks to unify the Domain. If he succeeds, his army will spill into Verdant lands."
Kael's hand tightened on Abyssfang's hilt. His home. His people. Again.
The blade trembled, sensing his anger. "Yes… yes… rage tastes better than blood. Let me drink for you. Let me—"
Kael shoved it back into its sheath with a violent motion.
Nia's eyes lingered on him. "Kael. You don't have to fight every war."
He laughed without humor. "That's the problem, Nia. The wars keep finding me."
They broke camp by midday, heading east toward the Gilded Domain's border. The path cut through scarred plains littered with shattered banners and rusting weapons. Carrion birds circled overhead, swooping low whenever the trio passed.
Kael walked ahead, boots sinking into the mud. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the land itself wanted to drag him down with the corpses.
Nia moved silently behind him, calculating even in her stride. Taye trailed last, humming tunelessly and twirling a bone between his fingers — a nervous tic he probably didn't realize he had.
The silence stretched until Taye finally broke it.
"So," he said, voice too loud in the open air, "when we get to the Gilded Domain, what then? Riches? Women? A decent bed without mold?"
Kael grunted. "Food first."
"I'm serious!" Taye jogged forward, grinning despite his exhaustion. "Think about it. Gilded folk pay a fortune for relics from battlefields. And guess what we have? Bags of teeth, weapons, a cursed sword that won't shut up—"
Kael shot him a glare.
Taye coughed. "Okay, maybe not the sword."
Nia smirked faintly. "Riches won't matter if Crimson Thrones march on Verdant. War consumes gold faster than fire consumes wood."
"Then maybe," Taye said, lowering his voice, "we sell ourselves instead. Mercenaries. We're already knee-deep in blood. Why not make it profitable?"
Kael didn't answer. But the idea sat heavy in his chest.
By evening, they reached the ridge overlooking the borderlands. On one side, the wild forests of Verdant stretched endlessly, their canopies glowing with faint bioluminescence as dusk fell. On the other, golden towers of the Gilded Domain rose like jagged teeth, lights twinkling even at a distance.
It should have been beautiful.
Instead, Kael felt his skin prickle.
Something moved in the treeline below. Not Wraithborn this time. Not soldiers either.
Shadows twisted unnaturally, flowing against the wind.
Taye froze. His own shadow writhed at his feet like a dog bristling at an intruder. His blue locks seemed to pale in the dying light. "That's not mine," he whispered.
From the forest, a voice echoed. Cold. Amused.
"Kael Omari. The Abyss remembers its child."
Kael's heart hammered. His grip tightened on Abyssfang.
Nia drew her daggers. Taye's shadow coiled like a snake.
The forest itself seemed to lean closer, branches clawing toward them.
And in the growing dark, two glowing eyes blinked open.
To be continued…