The forest swallowed Kael whole as he followed the cloaked figure deeper into the woods, branches clawing at his arms like skeletal fingers. Though dawn had begun to rise, its light was thin and struggled to pierce the dense canopy. The air grew colder, heavier. Each step echoed in his ears like a heartbeat—the steady drum of fate tightening around his throat.
The stranger moved effortlessly, gliding across moss and stone like a phantom. Kael, still weak from his escape, struggled to keep up. His wounds throbbed, a burning reminder of the betrayal that had birthed this journey. Yet the fire in his chest kept him moving, hotter than pain, stronger than doubt.
"Where are you leading me?" he demanded finally, voice rough.
The stranger didn't pause. "To a place forgotten by the world. A place where your soul will be weighed—and judged."
Kael's hand hovered near his blade, eyes narrowing. "I didn't ask for judgment."
"You didn't need to," the figure replied, voice nearly a whisper. "You carry your sins like a crown."
Kael said nothing.
After what felt like hours, the forest gave way to a jagged ravine. Below, nestled between twisted roots and hanging vines, was a crumbling temple. Stone pillars jutted from the earth like broken teeth, worn by time and nature. Strange symbols, etched in a language long dead, spiraled across the walls in pulsing veins of faint red light.
Kael felt something stir in his gut. Not fear—something deeper. Hunger. As if something in the earth itself called his name.
"This is a place of power," the figure said. "Long before your kingdom rose, before your gods walked among men, this land served another master."
Kael looked to the figure. "And what does that master want from me?"
The stranger finally turned, pulling back the hood.
She was a woman—pale skin like moonlight, eyes dark as a starless sky. She couldn't have been more than thirty, but her gaze carried centuries. Her lips curved into a smile that was both invitation and warning.
"Not what it wants from you," she said. "What it will offer you."
They entered the temple. The air inside was cold and still, heavy with ancient weight. The chamber was vast, its walls lined with statues—twisted, humanoid things with clawed hands and eyeless faces. At the center of the room stood a black altar carved from obsidian, its surface marred by deep grooves that pulsed faintly.
Kael stepped forward, compelled by something unseen. The pain in his body dulled, replaced by a humming energy crawling beneath his skin.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"A remnant," the woman said. "Of a time when power did not come from crowns or councils, but from will. From sacrifice."
Kael stared at the altar. "You brought me here to make a deal."
"I didn't bring you. You brought yourself."
He turned to her. "I won't sell my soul."
She tilted her head. "You already lost it the moment your blade tasted blood for vengeance."
Her words struck something in him—something raw and undeniable. Kael wasn't sure what he was anymore. A hero? A traitor? Or just a man clinging to the last ember of meaning?
The altar pulsed brighter.
"Place your hand on it," she said.
Kael hesitated. Every instinct screamed caution. But his rage drowned them out.
He stepped forward.
The moment his palm met the stone, pain lanced through his arm. He gasped as the room vanished in a blaze of black fire. Darkness closed in, thick and suffocating. In the void, a voice echoed—deep, ancient, and hungry.
"You seek power."
Kael tried to speak, but his mouth would not move.
"You were cast down. Broken. Betrayed."
The voice slithered through his mind, wrapping around his thoughts like chains.
"You crave vengeance. Blood. Justice. You are ready."
Images surged around him—visions of Darian's smirk, Elen's cold gaze, the king's crown dripping with rot. A storm of memories, pain, and fury.
Then silence.
"Do you accept the cost?"
Kael's heart thundered. He knew this wasn't a god. This was something older. Something darker. But he didn't care.
"Yes," he whispered. "I accept."
The voice roared like an inferno.
"Then rise, Champion of the Forsaken."
Kael's body convulsed as the darkness exploded in light. He screamed—pain and ecstasy woven into one. The fire tore through him, searing his veins, branding his soul.
When the world returned, he was on his knees before the altar, gasping, body steaming with power. His hands trembled, but they no longer felt weak. His wounds—gone. His muscles—stronger.
The woman stood nearby, watching with a calm that sent a chill through him.
"You survived," she said.
Kael rose unsteadily, his eyes glowing faintly red. "What… what have I become?"
"Something more," she answered. "You are bound now—to a power the world has forgotten. You will heal faster, fight harder. You will see what others cannot. But there is a price."
Kael clenched his fists. "What price?"
"Your humanity will fade, piece by piece. The more you feed your vengeance, the more it consumes you. You will never be the man you were."
Kael looked down at his hands, a strange energy crackling at his fingertips.
"Good," he said. "That man was weak."
They left the temple together, the sun now rising fully above the horizon, casting golden light over the world.
Kael felt every breath of wind like a promise. His senses sharpened. The birds in the trees, the distant rustle of leaves, even the heartbeat of the woman beside him—it was all clearer. His body felt reborn.
The woman walked beside him in silence.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She looked at him. "Call me Lysara."
"Why help me?"
She gave a small, enigmatic smile. "Because I serve the one you now carry. And because your war will bring balance."
Kael laughed bitterly. "Balance? I plan to burn the kingdom down."
"And from ashes, new truths grow," Lysara said.
By midday, they reached the edge of the forest. Beyond lay a wide valley, where traders traveled and rumors spread like fire. Kael's first step toward vengeance would begin with information.
"I need to know where they are," he said. "Darian. Elen. The king. If they think I'm dead, they won't be hiding."
Lysara nodded. "Darian has claimed your place as High Commander. Elen leads the Royal Vanguard. The king... he watches, always. But there are whispers of rebellion. People who remember the truth."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"Then I'll find them. And I'll remind the kingdom what it means to betray a champion."