The desert winds had changed.
The smell of storm and steel now rode their breath, sweeping across kingdoms like a silent omen. From the high mountains of Jhulmah to the obsidian coasts of Arkenra, banners were raised—not in glory, but in fear.
Something had returned to the world.
And war was waking with it.
---
Nael's Recovery
Nael lay wrapped in shadowcloth, his body broken but not defeated. The wound from Khazir still pulsed, not with pain—but with something deeper. A voice, distant and strange, echoed in his dreams.
"What you carry is not just fire. It is inheritance. It is sin. And it is choice."
He saw his father's throne of flame… but this time, it cracked. Beneath it was a cradle of bones, and a single feather—blackened and burning.
Nael awoke with a gasp.
Rayyan sat nearby, silent, his white-blue eye bandaged.
"We survived," Rayyan said quietly.
"Barely."
Nael touched the wound. It glowed faintly—a mark now, like a branding. The fire inside him no longer raged. It whispered.
---
Sammael's Game
In the war halls of Ral'thakar, Sammael stood before the gathered kings—robed in gold and venom.
"The sons of Iblis walk the world," he declared, voice smooth like poisoned silk. "One bears the fire that destroyed your ancestors. The other breaks divine law with his eye."
A king rose. "You speak of war, trickster."
Sammael bowed. "No, my lord. I speak of survival."
He unveiled a scroll—etched with Veilborne sigils, and a map pointing toward a holy land hidden in the west: The Temple of Sundering.
"If the sons reach this temple first, they will awaken something far worse than Iblis."
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
And then—unified by fear—the kings declared war.
---
The Prophecy Rewritten
Meanwhile, Rayyan and Nael had traveled to the last library of the Pale Monks—keepers of forbidden truths.
There, the Grand Chronicler read from a scroll made of sky-skin:
> "When the Sun-Eye burns pure and the Moon-Eye breaks rule, the world shall fracture. The Lords of the Veil will rise again. And the One Who Feared Death… will return."
Nael frowned. "The One Who Feared Death?"
"Not Iblis," the monk said. "Another. One that even Iblis fled from."
Rayyan and Nael exchanged looks. Whatever they thought their mission was—it had just changed.
---
Rays of Division
As they left the library, a familiar tension crackled between them.
"You disobeyed divine law," Nael said.
"And you embraced the fire you swore to resist," Rayyan shot back.
A long silence followed.
"Are we still walking the same path?" Nael asked.
Rayyan hesitated.
"I don't know," he finally said.
---
The Army of Ash
Night fell.
The kings had sent their armies—thousands strong. War machines rolled across the dunes. Banners bearing the mark of ancient vengeance rippled in the wind.
Sammael stood at the head of it all, his smile now gone.
"Let them feel hunted. Let them feel alone."
---
A Choice in the Dust
Nael and Rayyan stood on the edge of a vast desert plateau. In the distance, the glow of torches—an army advancing.
They could flee. Or they could stand.
Nael closed his eyes. "If we run, they'll keep chasing."
Rayyan nodded. "Then we draw the line here."
He removed his bandage.
The Divine Eye flickered open again.
And beside him, Nael's Solar Eye ignited—not in rage, but in unity.
---
To Be Continued…
Far above, among the stars, a rift opened—just for a second.
And something... looked down.