The air in the chamber was still heavy, thick with the residue of vanquished chaos. Faint sparks of storm energy flickered in the broken stones, casting ghostly shadows along the fractured walls. Where the Void Revenant once stood, only a scorched crater remained — a silent monument to Indra's victory.
Indra stood at the edge of the devastation, body worn but spine straight. His fingers flexed involuntarily as the last threads of lightning dispersed into the air around him. He could still hear the echoes of the Revenant's final roar in his ears, a haunting farewell from the abyss. Yet his expression was calm — not triumph, not pride — but purpose.
His eyes lifted to the ceiling of the ancient cavern where faint stars glimmered through a jagged opening. A breeze flowed down from above, brushing against his face with the gentleness of memory.
"Was this what you saw for me, Father? This storm I walk alone?"
Indra's thoughts poured into the sky like whispers carried on the wind. He saw, in the shifting clouds above, the memory of Bramha — not as a mighty mage or stoic guardian, but as the man who had once cradled him in silence and sealed away his future for the sake of something greater. The man who had vanished into myth while leaving behind a storm wrapped in chains.
"I used to curse the weight of your silence… Now I wear it as armor."
His voice was low, more to himself than anyone else, but the cavern seemed to hold its breath, listening.
"If this is the path you carved, I'll walk it. No matter how long the night. The storm answers to me now."
A sharp whistle snapped him back to the present. "Hey!" Kaelari's voice rang across the chamber. She stood near a crumbled staircase that led deeper — a spiral descent flanked by flickering braziers. "You planning to have a staring contest with the sky, or are we diving into the next death trap?"
Indra turned, a soft smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Right. Let's finish what we started."
Kaelari gave a mock bow, her tone dry. "As you command, Storm King."
Together, they descended into the belly of the dungeon, the path lit only by flickering blue fire. With each step, Indra could feel it — the presence of something old, something watching. The Sigil along his skin pulsed slowly, cautiously.
They reached a grand threshold — an ancient gate sealed with layered enchantments. Runes danced across its surface, shifting languages mid-sentence, whispering riddles in tongues long forgotten. In its center glowed a symbol that mirrored Indra's own Sigil — but far older, and fractured.
Kaelari approached it carefully, studying the symbols. "This… this is no ordinary seal. Whatever's behind this door isn't just a test. It's a memory buried in stone."
Indra stepped forward, placing his hand over the glowing rune. The moment he touched it, the enchantments flared, scanning the storm essence within him.
The Sigil's resonance changed.
From his palm, the rune flared — not with power, but with recognition. The door answered him, not like a lock being broken, but like a loyal beast waking to its master.
With a deep groan and a cascade of dust, the gates slowly parted.
Beyond lay a throne room drowned in shadow — statues of forgotten guardians lining the walls, their eyes hollow, watching. In the center stood a figure cloaked in ancient armor, back turned to them, unmoving. Not alive. Not dead. A sentinel preserved by time.
Kaelari raised her blade. "Another Revenant?"
Indra shook his head slowly, the Tempest's Eye narrowing his vision. "No… this one's different."
The figure slowly turned.
Its face bore markings identical to Indra's.
Its chest… glowed with the First Sigil.
And then — it spoke.
Not with sound, but with thought, a voice pressed directly into Indra's mind:
"The storm does not forget its kings… Prove you are worthy of the name."
Kaelari stepped back, tense. Indra's breath caught in his chest — not from fear, but from fate catching up.
Another storm was about to break.
And this time, it wore his own face.