In the temple beneath Gravehold, truth tastes like ash. And something ancient begins to stir.
---
The throne room of Gravehold had been repurposed into a war chamber—its once-golden spires now wreathed in chains, its braziers burning cold blue. The scent of ash and fresh blood lingered.
Adexander sat atop a jagged, obsidian throne—not by desire, but by victory.
He did not speak. He watched.
Kaien sprawled lazily against a pillar, picking at his nails with a dagger. Raik was sketching crude banners for the new "Crimson Fangs." Igris stood motionless by the door, arms crossed.
Then, she entered.
The angel-descendant.
Clad in robes of shimmering dusk-light, she walked barefoot across the stone without a sound. Eyes silver, glowing faintly—Velessia.
> "You've changed the flow of fate," she said.
Adexander didn't move.
> "You watched me kill your champion."
> "He wasn't mine," she replied, voice like wind over ice. "He was theirs."
Igris tensed.
But Adexander lifted a hand—stay.
Velessia stepped closer, until they stood breath apart.
> "You're more than a king," she whispered. "You carry death like a shadow."
> "I carry what I must."
> "And what lies below?" she asked, tilting her head. "Have you heard the whispering yet?"
Adexander's eyes narrowed.
> "No."
> "You will."
---
That night, while the others rested, Adexander descended into Gravehold's catacombs alone.
Stone steps led into a realm untouched by time—lit only by flickering crimson torches.
Statues of forgotten gods stared down at him. Names erased. Wings broken.
And at the very end… a sealed gate of bone and metal, chained with runes that pulsed.
He approached.
It pulsed harder.
Then whispered.
> "Crimson... Come home."
Adexander gritted his teeth.
> "I am home."
The gate shuddered. Behind it… something stirred.
Something old.
And watching from the shadows, unseen by Adexander, a figure in robes of rotted silk grinned.
Its voice was the sound of knives scraping bone.
> "So... the King rises again. Let's see how long he lasts... once the Sealed One wakes."