The first seal was broken, but peace didn't follow.
Instead, a storm gathered over Evergrave.
Franklin stood alone on the balcony of an abandoned watchtower, the wind dragging his cloak like tattered wings. He watched the city below, a city on the brink of collapse. Fires smouldered in the slums, their smoke billowing into the sky like the remnants of a dying world. Ash drifted through the air, a pale snow settling on the streets, and the plague bled from the cracks of the city, its presence palpable and suffocating. It was as though the land itself resisted the broken seal, refusing to surrender.
The storm didn't just rage outside; it echoed inside him, a tempest he couldn't escape. Every passing minute, every shifting shadow reminded him of the chaos that had been unleashed. And yet, Franklin felt no relief. The first chain had burned, but the world was still tethered to Solorth's curse. The winds howled, distant cries of those suffering beneath the weight of the kingdom's sins.
"It's getting worse," Brenda's voice cut through the wind as she joined him. Her figure was cloaked in black, her face shadowed beneath her hood, but her eyes, those eyes, burning with the same intensity that had driven them both this far, were impossible to miss. She pulled her hood tighter, her bandaged hand trembling as she wrapped it around her wrist. "The people think Banji's magic is failing. They're rioting."
"Good," Franklin muttered, his tone hard as stone. He didn't even turn to look at her. "Let it burn."
Brenda shot him a sharp glance, her gaze narrowing. "You want chaos?"
"I want rot exposed," Franklin growled, his voice edged with fury. "This kingdom won't heal under silence. There is no cure for a sickness this deep." His eyes remained fixed on the city below, the shadows stretching across the streets like the fingers of some unseen hand. "Let them see it, let them burn. Maybe then, they'll understand what's coming."
The bell tolled in the distance, a mournful sound, a warning. Not for worship. Not for peace. But a cry to the heavens. The people had risen in revolt, their cries of desperation ringing out in unison. Franklin's jaw clenched. He had known it would come to this. He had hoped the breaking of the first seal would give them a sliver of hope, but all it had done was expose the festering rot beneath the kingdom's skin.
"They think it's Banji's failing magic," Brenda said softly, watching the chaos below. "But it's more than that. The people are frightened, Franklin. And when they're frightened…" She trailed off, and for a brief moment, Franklin saw the flicker of something unfamiliar in her eyes, something like doubt.
"Frightened people do desperate things," he finished for her, his voice low. "But the real danger is what comes next. Rebecca's not going to wait much longer."
Below, in the throne room, the weight of the kingdom rested on Banji's shoulders, though he didn't look like a king. Slumped in his iron seat, he stared blankly at the Blood Tithe tome, its pages stained with crimson. His fingers tapped absentmindedly against the worn pages, his face gaunt and hollow-eyed, the curse of Solorth leeching into him like a poison. The magic that had once filled him with power was now draining, pulling him down into something darker, something more desperate.
"You've grown weak," a voice purred from the shadows.
Rebecca emerged from the darkened corners of the room, her crimson armour gleaming, her hair braided into a crown of knives. She moved with an unsettling grace, her presence suffocating. "You can feel it, can't you? The seal's gone. The power's shifting. We've lost our tether to the old ways."
Banji's voice was brittle, the strain of the curse taking its toll. "You did this?"
"No," she replied smoothly, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "Franklin did."
The name twisted Banji's face in distaste, his eyes narrowing in anger and disbelief. "He's dead."
Rebecca's grin widened. "No," she said again, the words laced with a venomous sweetness. "He's risen."
The air seemed to tighten around Banji as if the very room itself was closing in on him. Rebecca leaned closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, each word cutting into him like a knife. "And now, we finish what our father started."
From her belt, she unfurled a scroll marked with Solorth's sigil, the ink dark and sinister, made from blood and bone. Banji recoiled at the sight, his face pale with fear. "You would make a pact?"
Rebecca's smile remained, her expression chilling. "I already have." Her voice softened, almost conspiratorial. "The second seal is under the Tower of Mourn. We're going tonight."
Banji stared at her, his mind racing. For the first time, he wasn't sure whether to fear her or follow her. He was no longer the master of his destiny; he was a puppet, and Rebecca was pulling the strings. She could taste victory in the air, and it made her all the more dangerous.
Her eyes glittered with a promise of power. Banji didn't trust her, but the desperation inside him, the fear of what Solorth's curse would do to him, pushed him to follow. She smiled, knowing she had already won.
Elsewhere, in the hidden chambers beneath the castle's northern edge, Franklin stood alone, surrounded by shadows and stone. The secret room, once used as a war chamber, now felt like a tomb of forgotten truths. It was here, long ago, that he had first learned of the seals and the power they held. But it was only now, standing before the cracked mural that adorned the far wall, that he truly understood its meaning.
The mural depicted three seals. One broken, two whole. And behind them a shadow with a thousand mouths, the shape of Solorth itself.
Brenda moved beside him, her gaze fixed on the mural. "How do we stop something that was never meant to be bound?"
Franklin's hand rested lightly on the cold stone, his eyes tracing the images before him. "We don't stop it," he said quietly. "We break its cage, and we pray it doesn't remember our names." His voice was calm, but his words carried the weight of something far darker. There was no real way to fight Solorth. The curse had seeped into everything in the land, the people, even their souls.
Brenda stared at him, disbelief evident in her eyes. "You're not serious."
Franklin stood, his back straight, his gaze distant. "Solorth's already in Rebecca's ear. We either beat her to the second seal or she opens it first."
"And then?"
"Then it's not just the kingdom at stake. It's what comes after," he said, his voice lowering as if he were speaking a truth too terrible to be fully understood. The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on them like a suffocating weight.
Brenda's voice broke the silence, her words soft, barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant."
Franklin froze. The words hit him like a physical blow, the world suddenly tilting on its axis. The torchlight flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the chamber. The wind howled outside, carrying with it a sense of inevitability. He turned slowly, his breath caught in his throat, and looked at her, really looked at her for the first time.
Her face was pale, the strain of their recent actions evident in the way her shoulders sagged, but there was a quiet terror in her eyes that made his heart tighten. She took a small step back, as though distancing herself from the weight of the truth she had just shared. "I wasn't going to tell you... But after what we did to break the seal, I"
The words caught in Franklin's throat. He grabbed her wrist, too tightly, his mind racing. "The curse…"
"I know," she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
"Your blood… our child…"
"I know, Franklin." The terror in her eyes was not for herself but for the fragile life growing inside her.
For the first time, Franklin saw her fear, real, raw fear. Not for the battle that awaited them, but for the child, for what the curse would do to them all. He let go of her wrist, his hand trembling with a realisation that was too vast to fully comprehend. "We'll find a way," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I swear it."
She nodded, but there was doubt in her eyes, a fear she couldn't hide. Neither of them knew what the future held.
That night, thunder rolled over Evergrave.
Rebecca stood before the Tower of Mourn, its black spires clawing at the sky like jagged fingers. Soldiers flanked her, their eyes hollow and lifeless, bound only by their loyalty to fear. Banji followed, his crown askew, desperation in every step. He was no longer the man he had once been. The weight of Solorth's curse had shattered him, and the tower loomed ahead, an omen of the darkness to come.
The second seal pulsed beneath the stone, a heartbeat, a promise.
Rebecca smiled and whispered Solorth's name.