The instant Zepharian fell, everything changed.
The wind slowed.
The thunder fell silent.
The storm… knelt.
Kael stood alone in the sky, his body calm, steady, floating weightlessly. After taking a deep breath, he looked above.
The Tempest Throne.
It hovered high above the chaotic skies, uncaring of everything happening beneath it. It wasn't made of stone or steel—it was forged from the very sky itself.
From afar, it looked unreachable, wrapped with dense clouds, bolts of golden lightning dancing around, as if prepared to protect it and scorch any being that dared approach it. Violent winds roared endlessly, as if warning those who even thought of approaching it.
The throne shimmered with flickers of gold and silver, but its form never stayed still—it changed with each passing second, as if it was alive.
It was a seat meant only for the one who could command the Sky itself.
And…
As Kael looked up, he witnessed something—something he would never forget.
