The winds of the Astral Continent no longer whispered of kingdoms or kings. They spoke only one name now, carried from village to fortress, from desert to glacier. Kael.
Yet for all his chains, for all his conquests, power never came without cost.
In the aftermath of Solmaria's fall, Kael set camp in the mountains of Calgaros. The air was thin, the stars sharp like knives, and each night the sky seemed to watch him more closely than the night before.
Mira entered his tent quietly, her cloak dusted with frost.
"The scouts returned," she said. "The northern tribes have united. They're marching to protect the Ninth Chain."
Kael turned from the fire, the shadows of his chains glowing faintly beneath his armor. "Let them march. They'll fall like the rest."
Mira did not smile. Her silence lingered.
"You're bleeding more often," she said softly. "Since the Eighth Chain. It's taking something from you."
Kael stared into the fire. Flames reflected in his eyes, but offered no warmth.
"Everything worth claiming must be paid for," he murmured. "Even divinity."
He rose and stepped outside, the cold wrapping around him like an old memory. Around the camp, soldiers knelt when they saw him. No cheers. Only reverence touched by fear.
Beyond the campfire light, an old man waited. Cloaked in rags, with skin like bark and eyes too bright to be human.
Kael stopped before him.
"You've followed me since Rathmere," he said.
The old man bowed slightly. "I am called Wyran. Once, I was a Keeper of the Ninth Chain."
"Then speak," Kael commanded. "Where is it?"
Wyran looked up. "Buried beneath the Ice Tombs of Vareth. Guarded by the last godling, a creature born of starlight and vengeance. If you take the final chain, Kael, the path of man ends. You will no longer belong to this world."
Kael stepped closer.
"I stopped belonging to this world the moment it took everything from me."
Wyran nodded once and vanished into mist.
Behind him, Mira's voice carried softly. "When you take the Ninth Chain, what remains of you?"
Kael did not answer.
He looked up at the stars, then back at the fire. The price of ascension had been written in blood, in betrayal, in conquest. One final chain awaited.
And he would pay whatever it demanded.