Ash fell like snow across the battlefield.
The cries of the wounded faded into silence as dawn crowned the horizon. A strange stillness hung in the air—not peace, but exhaustion. Victory, perhaps, but not without cost.
Rayyan stood amidst the broken weapons and smoking banners. His Divine Eye shimmered, dim now, weeping light as if mourning those who had fallen—his warriors, the ash-born, and even his enemies.
Nael sat on a shattered pillar nearby, flames gently licking the edges of his cloak. He had not spoken since the last of the enemy fled.
"Why do they always run from what they started?" he asked, voice hollow.
Rayyan didn't answer right away.
"Because they were led by kings who were already broken," he said at last. "Sammael just gave them something to fear more than their own pride."
---
The March of the Ash Oath
Barak approached, helm removed, eyes glowing like fading coals.
"The line held," he reported. "But the cost was high. We lost nearly half of the Ash Oath."
"They gave everything," Rayyan said solemnly.
Nael looked up. "And we're not done yet."
He pointed west—toward the obsidian ridges that split the land. Beyond them, the Temple of Sundering waited.
"We stopped the kings," he said. "But Sammael still walks free. And he still holds the map to the Temple."
Rayyan nodded.
"We finish this," he said.
Barak saluted, then turned to his warriors. "Ash Oath! We ride once more!"
---
The Splintering Court
Far away, deep in the city of golden thrones, the remaining kings argued in a crumbling court. News of the defeat spread like rot—Rayyan and Nael had won. The divine brothers had defied death and united the lost.
Fear turned to desperation.
"They will come for us next," one king snarled.
"They seek the Temple," another whispered. "Let them have it. Let Sammael deal with what slumbers."
But others knew better. Knew what Sammael had whispered to them in secret:
> "The Temple is not just a prison. It is a doorway. And behind it waits something even Iblis fears."
One king stood and struck down another—panic exploding into violence.
The Court of Kings… shattered.
---
The Path to Sundering
Rayyan, Nael, and the remaining Ash Oath began their journey westward. The land changed quickly—lush forests turned to jagged rock, rivers to red sand. And in the sky, stars moved wrong.
"The veil's getting thin," Rayyan muttered.
Nael touched his branded wound. It pulsed—faster now. Hungrier.
He heard a whisper again.
> "You walk toward the end."
> "You will either open the door…"
> "Or become what's behind it."
He gritted his teeth. "I won't become anything. I already am."
---
The Silent Betrayal
At nightfall, as campfires flickered under a dying moon, Barak approached Rayyan privately.
"My Liege… the soldiers are loyal, but afraid."
Rayyan raised a brow. "Of me?"
"No. Of him."
Barak gestured to Nael, who sat alone, flames curling around his shoulders like a crown of fire and regret.
"He carries something old. Something wrong."
Rayyan nodded. "I know."
Barak stepped closer. "If he loses control—"
"I won't let that happen," Rayyan cut in, voice firm.
"But what if you must choose?"
Rayyan turned to him, his glowing eye hard as steel.
"Then I choose my brother. Every time."
---
To Be Continued…
In the far west, unseen by mortal eyes, the Temple of Sundering groaned.
Chains of light began to crack.
And deep beneath it…
The One Who Feared Death began to stir.