—The Crack in the World—
The fissure glowed, gold-and-crimson light spilling like liquid fire across the bone throne's dais.
Kael's lungs burned. His veins throbbed in time with the pulse of the Vein's walls, as if the god's carcass had *recognized* him.
The Hollow King spread his arms. "Father has waited so long to meet you."
Sera fired another arrow—this one aimed at the fissure. It *sizzled* into ash before it struck.
"Run," she hissed, yanking Kael backward.
But the ground *lurched*. The fissure widened, and from its depths rose—
*A hand.*
Not flesh. Not bone.
*Shadow given form.*
Five fingers, each longer than Kael's body, curled around the edge of the fissure. The air *screamed* where they touched.
Kael's Emberguard seared white-hot.
"No," he choked.
The Hollow King laughed. "Too late, little storm."
—The First Command—
The shadow-hand *flexed*.
The chamber *shuddered*.
Kael's vision blurred as a voice—older than language—hammered into his skull:
COME.
Not a word. A *command*, etched into the world before words existed.
Kael's knees buckled. Blood dripped from his nose, his ears, his *eyes*.
Sera grabbed his collar. "Fight it!"
But the command was in his *blood*.
The Hollow King sighed. "You see now? The Vein doesn't want you dead. It wants you *home*."
He stepped toward the fissure, his cloak of shadows merging with the rising darkness.
"The throne is yours. But only if you *take it*."
—Sera's Secret—
Sera's grip tightened. "Kael, *listen* to me."
Her voice was raw. Desperate.
*Wrong.*
Kael twisted to face her—and froze.
Her left eye was no longer green.
It was *gold*, slit with crimson, pulsing like the Vein's walls.
"You—"
"I tried to stop this," she whispered. "But you *wouldn't*."
The Hollow King's grin sharpened. "Ah. The huntress finally shows her teeth."
Sera's golden eye *blazed*.
"Run," she repeated—
And *shoved* Kael toward the throne.
Kael crashed against the bone seat.
The moment his skin touched it—
*He remembered.*
Not a vision. Not a dream.
*Himself.*
A thousand years ago, kneeling before the dying god, his hands slick with divine blood.
*"Take it,"* the first Stormblood had whispered. *"Take its scream. Its lightning. Its *life*."*
The memory *twisted*.
Now, it was Kael's hand plunging into the god's chest.
Kael's voice hissing: *"Mine."*
Kael's *fault*.
"No!" He wrenched back, but the throne *held* him.
The Hollow King loomed over him. "Now you see. You're not the heir. You're the *thief*."
The shadow-hand *lunged* from the fissure.
Sera *screamed*—
And the world *split open*.