The blood rain fell steadily upon the war-stained earth, dyeing the stones of Dreadhold a deep maroon. It hissed softly against obsidian walls and crimson-streaked banners, as if the very heavens wept for what was about to unfold.
Lyra stood atop the battlements, obsidian armor gleaming wet beneath the storm. Her hair clung to her cheeks, streaked with rain and something more fragile—grief that had no place on a battlefield. Below her, the armies of the Thorns stood at the ready. Legionnaires from each of the Twelve Domains filled the valley like a tide waiting to crash.
But her eyes weren't on them. They searched the horizon… for him.
Then, a rip in the sky. A spiral of corrupted aura tore open the clouds above the battlefield like a wound refusing to close.
From its center, he descended.
Kael.
No—not Kael.
His body floated gently to the ground, cloaked in shadowed black and gold, aura pulsing with divine malice. Veins of cursed energy laced his face like cracks in stone, and his eyes—one glowing with the mark of N'therak, the other empty yet burdened—reflected a god's fury and a man's silence.
The Thorns moved instantly.
Valdran stepped forward, blade in hand, but Luna raised her arm.
"Wait…" she whispered. "Something's wrong."
Kael's boots touched the ground, and the blood rain slowed as if time itself paused to acknowledge his arrival.
Across the field, the allied armies shifted uneasily. Their commanders, seated on grand beasts and magical mounts, issued hushed orders. They had not expected the Dread King to return so soon… let alone like this.
Lyra took one trembling step forward. "Kael?" she whispered, barely heard over the thunder.
His eyes turned toward her—cold, unreadable.
"N'therak," she breathed. "You're in there…"
But he said nothing.
Instead, he lifted his hand.
From the cursed veins in his skin, magic surged—shattering the earth before him and sending a line of pure devastation through the enemy front. Trees snapped like twigs, men screamed, shields melted in the crimson blaze.
The war had begun.
Valdran, Luna, Eclipse, and the other Thorns moved in unison, rallying their armies with desperate resolve. But in the chaos, they still glanced at their king—because even in his corrupted state, he wasn't striking them.
"Protect the heart of the fortress!" Eclipse roared, cutting through a wyvern with her twin blades. "We fight with everything we have!"
As the battle raged, Lyra made her way toward Kael, dodging spells and stepping over corpses of friend and foe alike. Her eyes never left him.
When she was close enough to be heard, she screamed above the storm. "Kael! I know you're in there! You made a deal—but I'm not afraid of you!"
He turned slowly, rain dripping from his jawline. Blood from his cursed eye traced down his cheek like a tear.
"You were never supposed to be part of this," he said, his voice layered with something hollow—Kael's voice beneath the god's.
"You're the reason I fight," she said. "So don't protect me with silence. Don't leave me again."
The god within flinched. The eye of N'therak narrowed.
A bolt of cursed magic burst from his palm, but it struck the ground beside her—not at her.
"You see?" she whispered. "You still care."
The battle behind them howled, but for a moment, the space between them was quiet.
Kael's face twisted. He turned away from her, eyes burning with pain and restraint. "Don't come closer," he growled. "If you do… I might not be able to stop."
"Then I'll make you," she whispered—and stepped forward.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through Kael's mind—a memory not his own.
"A god keeps his word, Kael. Hurt her, and the deal breaks. Resist me, and the world burns."
His hands trembled.
Thunder roared.
And then, he vanished again—teleporting across the battlefield, unleashing a storm of destruction on the allied siege engines, keeping them from reaching the walls.
He wasn't attacking to win.
He was protecting the place Lyra called home.
Back on the walls, Valdran wiped blood from his mouth and turned to the other Thorns, his sword raised.
"No matter what happens—fighting beside you all has been the greatest honor of my life," he said.
Eclipse touched Luna's hand. "Don't talk like that, you idiot."
Lyra clenched her fist. "We don't let him fight alone."
And beneath the blood-red sky, the storm of war continued.
Overlooking the battlefield from the highest tower, N'therak's cursed form stirred within Kael's soul—his voice low, cruel, amused.
"Oh Lyra... you should have stayed away. When this is over, not even your love will save him."
And somewhere deep inside… Kael screamed without sound.