—The Betrayal—
The Hollow Ones *scattered* as the ground split, their whispers dissolving into the wind. The key burned in Kael's hand, its metal searing his flesh, branding him with secrets he couldn't yet understand.
Lysara stood frozen, her sword trembling in her grip.
Then—
She *moved.*
Not toward the rising horror.
Toward *him.*
Her blade flashed.
Kael barely dodged, the steel grazing his shoulder. He *staggered,* shock numbing the pain.
"Lysara—?"
Her face was stone. "I can't let you live."
The words hit harder than the blade.
Sera's arrow *thudded* into the ground between them, a warning shot. "Lysara, *stand down!*"
Lysara didn't even glance at her. "You saw what he is. What he's *becoming.*"
Kael's breath came in ragged gasps. **"I'm trying to *fix* this—"
"You *broke* it!"** she snarled. "The Hollow Ones? The Vein? The *Godspike?* All of this is *your* doing!"
The Emberguard *pulsed* in his chest, molten fire threading through his veins. The Stormblade *hummed,* its edge flickering with unstable lightning.
Kael's voice dropped to a whisper. "You think I wanted this?"
Lysara's grip tightened. "I think you don't care what you destroy."
Then—
She *lunged.*
Kael *barely* parried, the Stormblade screeching against her steel. Lysara fought like a woman possessed, every strike precise, brutal, *final.*
Sera *yelled,* but her voice was lost in the thunder of collapsing ruins.
Eras watched, faceless, silent.
Lysara's sword *glowed*—a pale, sickly light radiating from a gem embedded in its hilt.
The Saint's Tear.
A relic of the old world.
A weapon meant to kill *gods.*
Kael's blood turned to ice. "You've been planning this."
Lysara's eyes were hollow. "Since the moment I saw what you really are."
She *stabbed.*
The Tear's light *flared.*
Kael *twisted,* but not fast enough—
The blade *grazed* his side.
And his skin *burned.*
Not from heat.
From *nothingness.*
The wound didn't bleed. It *unmade.* Flesh dissolved into void, the edges of the cut writhing like living shadows.
Kael *screamed.*
The Stormblade *erupted,* lightning *detonating* in a shockwave that hurled Lysara back. She crashed into the ruins, the Saint's Tear skittering from her grip.
Kael *pounced,* pinning her down, his blade at her throat.
"Why?" he roared, his voice raw.
Lysara didn't struggle.
She *smiled.*
"Because the world is worth more than you."
—The Rage of the Stormblood—
Something in Kael *snapped.*
The Emberguard *flared,* molten gold surging through his veins. The Stormblade *howled,* its lightning turning *black.*
The sky *split.*
Dark clouds *churned,* the storm answering his fury.
Lysara's eyes widened.
For the first time—
*Fear.*
Kael leaned down, his voice a whisper.
"Then let the world *burn.*"
He *slammed* the Stormblade into the ground.
The earth *shattered.*
A pillar of black lightning *erupted,* consuming everything—Lysara, the ruins, the watching Hollow Ones.
Sera *yelled,* her voice lost in the cataclysm.
Eras *vanished.*
And Kael—
Kael *let go.*
When the storm cleared, there was nothing left.
No Lysara.
No ruins.
Just a crater of black glass, smoking under the fractured sky.
Kael stood at its center, his breath ragged, the Emberguard's glow dimming.
Then—
A *laugh.*
Slow.
*Amused.*
Kael turned.
A figure stood at the crater's edge.
Tall.
Cloaked in shadows.
His face—
*His face was Kael's.*
The Hollow King tilted his head.
"At last," he murmured, "we meet."