The stag spirit knelt in the center of the Warhost's camp, its silver fire dim but steady. Around it, drums echoed, and the warriors of Karthuun celebrated. Meat roasted. War chants rose. The air trembled with primal reverence.
But Kael stood apart.
He was watching the fire—but seeing chains, memories of his mother's death and the gods' enforcers. The Trial had taught him something: the tribes didn't just survive the purge.
They were hiding something.
And now, they expected him to find it.
---
The Warlord's Terms
Karuun approached quietly. The warlord, for all his brute might, moved with the grace of a predator.
"You passed our rites. Earned our blood." He tossed something small to Kael—a blackened fang, carved with ancient glyphs. "But one bond is not enough. The other tribes won't follow unless you forge the Bone Accord."
Kael caught it. "What is it?"
"A pact older than gods. A bond of death and dominion. It must be made at the Shrine of Torshul, where the bones of the First Beast lie."
Nyra frowned. "That shrine hasn't been opened in centuries."
Karuun grinned. "That's why you'll need a key. And I know where one sleeps."
---
Aeron's Warning
Later that night, Aeron joined Kael at the edge of camp.
"You trust them?" Aeron asked, arms folded.
"No," Kael said. "But I don't have to. I trust their hatred of the gods more than their love for me."
"They're using you."
Kael smirked. "And I'm using them. If that makes us allies, fine. If not, I'll break them before they break me."
Aeron nodded slowly, then handed Kael a blade—one not made of metal, but void crystal. "You'll need this at the shrine. Spirits don't bleed. But they remember pain."
---
The Sleeping Key
The next day, Kael, Nyra, and Aeron ventured to the remains of a shattered mountain—Fellspire's Spine—where the last Key of Torshul was said to slumber. Buried in stone, wrapped in bone, guarded by curses.
They weren't the first to try.
Corpses littered the approach. Explorers turned inside-out. Markings on the rocks screamed in divine script—DO NOT WAKE HIM.
But Kael didn't hesitate.
The deeper they went, the colder it became.
Until they found it.
A man, or what used to be one, suspended in a cage of bones—Khalreth, the Bonebound. His eyes opened as they entered. No whites. Only darkness.
"You wear the Sovereign's chain," he rasped. "That makes you kin. Or enemy."
Kael stepped forward, shadows swirling. "I need the Accord."
Khalreth grinned. "Then you need to die and be rebuilt. That is the cost."
Kael didn't flinch. "Then show me the knife."
---
Ritual of the Bone Key
Khalreth's clawed hand struck Kael's chest.
A thousand voices screamed.
Chains shattered and reformed. Kael's bones cracked, realigned, burned, then froze. His heart stopped. He fell—into a sea of memories not his own.
Visions of beasts so large they walked across mountains. Of gods burning them, stealing their names. Of a boy—Kael—being born into a world already bound.
When Kael awoke, his breath was fire.
A new mark blazed on his chest: the Accord Sigil.
Khalreth collapsed, grinning. "Now... you're one step closer."
---
The Shrine of Torshul Awaits
As they left Fellspire, Nyra looked at Kael with awe—and fear.
"You really died, didn't you?"
"I didn't just die," Kael said, voice low. "I saw what the gods are afraid of."
"And what's that?" Aeron asked.
Kael looked up at the dying sun.
"That I'll remember what I was before they broke us."
---
End of Chapter 38