The sun hung high as he sat in his throne between the two city, surrounded by blood, wreckage, and the silence of the dead.
Then came the next wave.
Not from the field, but from the sky.
A heavy craft broke through the clouds, dragging a long shadow across the ruined city. Its engines didn't scream. They growled—deep, guttural—like something ancient and wrong had been woken up.
From its belly, a single bomb dropped.
No flash. No warning.
Just a black shape falling slow, steady, like it already knew nothing beneath it would survive.
Kael didn't move.
The air bent around it. Power rolled ahead of its descent, warping light, bending heat. Even the shadows stirred, uneasy.
Quiet. Slow. Heavy.
This wasn't designed by Daedalus. It was something new. And he was about to see what it does.
The shadows surged up from the ground before the blast could take shape. They wrapped around him and the city behind, sealing it all in a black sphere.
