—The Throne of Bone—
The Hollow King lounged on the god's throne like a corpse propped up for display, his stolen face half-shadowed, half-lit by the pulsing veins in the walls. His fingers drummed against the armrest—bone, polished smooth by time, etched with names that *writhed* when Kael looked too closely.
"Come closer, little storm," the Hollow King crooned. "Don't you want to see where your blood began?"
Kael didn't move. The air in the chamber was thick, cloying, pressing against his skin like the weight of deep water. His missing memories ached like fresh wounds.
Sera's voice was a blade in the dark. "Don't listen to him."
The Hollow King *tsked*. "Still clinging to your lies, huntress? Tell me—does he know what you *really* are?"
Sera's grip on her bow tightened.
Kael didn't take his eyes off the throne. "What do you want?"
The Hollow King leaned forward, his smile stretching too wide. "What was stolen from me."
He lifted a hand—
And the throne *screamed*.
Not a sound. Not a voice.
A *memory*.
The death cry of the god that had been murdered here, echoing through centuries, trapped in the bones of its own carcass.
Kael *staggered*, blood trickling from his nose.
The Hollow King sighed. "You hear it, don't you? The first storm. The first sin."
He stood, his cloak of shadows slithering around him like living smoke.
"Sit, Kael."
Kael's muscles locked.
"Sit," the Hollow King whispered, "and see what we *really* are."
Kael's vision *split*.
One moment, he stood in the chamber.
The next—
He was *elsewhere*.
*Elsewhen.*
Three figures stood over a dying god.
A king in gilded armor, his face hidden behind a mask of cold iron.
A saint with hollow eyes, his hands dripping gold.
And a thief—
*The thief was Kael.*
No.
Not Kael.
But his *mirror*. His *echo*.
The first Stormblood.
The god gasped, its chest split open, its ribs pried apart like a butchered animal. The thief plunged his hand into the wound—
And *ripped* out its scream.
The world *shuddered*.
The sky *tore*.
And the storm was *born*.
Kael *wrenched* back into his own body, gasping, his hands clawing at his chest as if he could dig out the memory.
The Hollow King loomed over him. "Now you understand."
The chamber trembled, dust shaking loose from the ceiling. The veins in the walls pulsed faster, their rhythm erratic, panicked.
Sera grabbed Kael's arm. "We have to go. *Now.*"
The Hollow King chuckled. "Running won't save you. The Vein remembers its thief."
Kael's voice was raw. **"What did you *do* to me?"
"Nothing you weren't born for."** The Hollow King stepped down from the throne, his shadow stretching unnaturally long. "The first Stormblood took the god's scream. But he was never meant to keep it."
He reached out, his fingers hovering over Kael's chest—where the Emberguard burned.
"It was always meant to return."
Sera's arrow *shattered* against the Hollow King's palm. He didn't flinch.
"You can't stop this, huntress."
Then—
The ground *split*.
A fissure tore open between them, jagged and deep, glowing with the same gold-and-crimson light as the Vein.
From the depths, something *stirred*.
Not a hand.
Not a claw.
A *presence*.
Ancient.
*Hungry.*
The Hollow King's grin widened.
"Ah. *Father* wakes."