The sky above the ruined cathedral was black, not with clouds, but with ash. It drifted like snow, soft and relentless, veiling the world in a quiet funeral shroud. The once-proud banners of Velmora lay in tatters, draped over the broken bones of its kings and saints. Wind howled through the fractured stained glass, carrying with it the scent of rot, charred stone, and something older—something that whispered of broken oaths.
Kael Azreth stood at the edge of the desecrated altar, one hand resting on the pommel of his blade, the other wrapped in bloodied bandages. His breath came slow, deliberate. Not from exhaustion, but restraint. He had walked through a valley of death to get here—through the maw of the Korran beasts, the betrayal of men, and the sorrow of what he had lost. And now, here he stood. Before the Hollow Crown.
It lay on a pedestal of bone and obsidian. No golden shine or gleam of majesty. Just an ancient circlet, black as sorrow, rimmed with barbed silver and etched with runes that pulsed faintly like dying embers. It was not made for kings. It was made to bind gods.
"You've come far, oathbreaker," said a voice behind him—soft, feminine, laced with mockery. "But have you come far enough?"
Kael turned.
From the darkness between shattered columns stepped a woman draped in tattered red, her face hidden behind a mask of bone shaped like a grieving widow. Her eyes—deep violet, flickering with cold fire—watched him with measured interest.
"Velis," he said, voice like stone dragged through sand.
"You remember." She tilted her head. "And here I thought you would have buried that name alongside your honor."
Kael said nothing. His grip on his sword tightened.
Velis stepped closer, her feet silent against the cracked marble floor. "You shouldn't touch the crown."
"I didn't come here to listen to warnings."
"No," she said. "You came for power. Like all men who forget what they once were."
Kael's silence was answer enough.
Velis drifted past him, running her fingers across the edge of the altar. "You broke the world, Kael. Don't pretend it was an accident. Don't pretend you did it for anyone but yourself."
"You don't know why I—"
"I do," she snapped, eyes blazing. "I watched the towers burn. I held the dying in my arms. I heard your name whispered in curses as the sky bled black."
Kael turned back toward the crown. It pulsed.
"I never asked to be a god," he said.
"No," Velis said, voice softening. "But you were chosen. And you chose vengeance."
A long silence passed.
Kael reached forward, fingers brushing the cold surface of the Hollow Crown. Visions slammed into his skull—flashes of the last time it was worn. Armies turned to ash. Oceans boiled. The screams of a thousand souls bound to a single will.
His will.
He recoiled, staggering.
Velis caught him before he fell. Her touch was cold, but grounding.
"This thing doesn't just rule," she whispered. "It devours."
"I need it," he said.
"You think you do."
Kael looked into her eyes. "They've opened the gate. The Veil is thinning. I can feel them crawling through."
Velis nodded. "I know. The stars scream when they come."
"If I don't stop them—"
"You'll become worse than them."
Kael stepped back, jaw tight. "Then I'll take that burden."
Velis closed her eyes. "So be it."
He turned once more to the crown. And this time, he didn't hesitate.
He placed it on his head.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the cathedral shuddered. Light, not bright but dark, poured from the walls, the cracks, the ground beneath their feet. The air vibrated with the sound of chains breaking—and reforging anew.
Kael's scream tore from his throat. Not from pain. From memory. Every sin, every death, every betrayal. They surged back in tidal force, drowning his mind, clawing through his soul.
He saw Aerin's face—his brother. The fire. The betrayal.
He saw Nyra—her smile, her blood on his hands.
He saw the gates of the Void open—and himself stepping through.
And still, the crown burned on.
When he opened his eyes again, they glowed like dying stars.
Velis knelt beside him. "What have you become?"
Kael rose slowly, his shadow long and sharp against the flickering wall. His voice was colder now, edged with something not entirely his.
"I am what they made me," he said. "What the world needs."
"You're wrong," she whispered.
"I hope so."
He turned from her and walked toward the cathedral's shattered entrance. The sky was red now—cracked like an egg. From the fissures above, creatures descended. Winged, horned, screaming in a language older than time.
Kael drew his sword. The crown pulsed.
He didn't flinch.
The first demon landed before him, snarling. Kael raised his hand—and the air split with a sound like breaking bones. Dark fire swallowed the beast whole. Another followed. And another. And each time, Kael's power responded—cold, swift, unrelenting.
Velis watched from the shadows, tears she could not explain rolling down her cheeks.
"He's gone," she whispered.
But she was wrong.
Kael still stood beneath the ash-fall.
Just no longer alone.