The storm reached Calven's Rest before Kael did.
Clouds thick as wool gathered over the city, casting the towers in shadow. Thunder cracked like war drums above the Council Keep. People looked to the skies—nobles with narrowed eyes, street urchins with awe, soldiers with hands drifting to hilts.
In the Council chamber, Lord Varen paused mid-sentence. He could feel the shift, the pressure in the aether itself—a familiar weight returning, one he had hoped wouldn't return so soon.
"He's back," Varen muttered.
Warden Thess stiffened. "Kael?"
Lysera rose to her feet, lips curling into a smile. "And he's not hiding anymore."
The great doors burst open with a crash of wind and rain.
Kael walked in like a storm given flesh.
His boots hissed steam on the marble. His cloak, once ragged, now sparked with flickers of static. His hair curled and waved with charged energy, and his eyes were laced with lightning—a pale glow dancing just beneath the iris.
Silence seized the chamber.
"You were gone," Varen said calmly. "Without authorization."
Kael raised a hand and snapped.
A fork of lightning sizzled into the air, coiling around his fingers like a serpent, not touching the walls, not even the air itself—coherent, controlled.
"I wasn't gone," Kael said, his voice low but ringing. "I was ascending."
Alaric stepped forward from the shadows beside the council dais, grinning. "Nice entrance."
Kael gave him a nod. "Missed me?"
"Not even a little."
"Liar."
A small ripple of laughter broke the tension. Even Lysera smirked. But the mood shifted quickly.
Thess cleared his throat. "You're just in time. Varen has proposed centralizing coreflow governance—"
Kael cut in. "—under his command. I know. The wind talks."
Varen's eyes narrowed. "You speak in riddles now?"
"No. Just more honestly than most."
The room went cold. Kael's presence wasn't just power—it was pressure. The Thundercore pulsed through him, not chaotic like before, but measured. Channeled. Everything about him had sharpened, refined by the crucible of the storm.
And still, Varen didn't blink. "Power does not grant authority. We are not ruled by storms."
Kael took a step forward. "No. But we are shaped by them."
Lysera glanced at Alaric. "He's poetic now. That's new."
Alaric whispered back, "Let him cook."
Meanwhile – Outer Districts, The Sprawl
A blade whispered through the throat of a guard in the undercroft. Another fell with barely a sound. Shadows spilled from the corners like ink poured over cobblestone.
Voidbinders had returned.
Maeryn led the strike team, her cloak dark as eclipse, her eyes glowing faint violet. Her Titan-forged essence made her presence a vacuum in the aether—one that drew only death and silence.
They moved through the lower veins of the city, through smuggler tunnels and forgotten altars. They weren't here for destruction.
They were here for placement.
Maeryn stopped at the edge of the city's Core Conduit—a flow of pulsing blue energy running beneath Calven's Rest. Her fingers flared, sigils blossoming in the air like ghostly flames.
"We disrupt this," she whispered, "and Varen has all the excuse he needs."
"And if the others interfere?" asked a Voidbinder behind her.
Maeryn turned, her gaze as cold as the Titan's breath. "Then we crush them."
Back in the Council Chamber
Debate raged. Varen's proposal had split the room—half of the minor lords favored centralized control, fearing Maeryn's growing threat. The others, swayed by Alaric's campaign and Kael's reemergence, hesitated to hand over that much power.
"This is a war of perception now," Lysera muttered as she and Alaric stepped aside. "Varen isn't fighting us. He's giving the nobles a narrative."
Alaric nodded. "Then we need our own."
Kael turned to them. "I'll give them one."
And with that, he turned to the Council, raising his voice to full command.
"I will take command of the eastern defenses," he declared. "Not as a lord, but as a warrior of Calven's Rest. Anyone who wants to see this city survive—stand behind me."
Some murmured. A few nobles stood. Not many. But it was enough. The line had been drawn.
And then, far below their feet… a tremor.
The floor vibrated once—then again. Thunder that didn't come from the sky.
Alaric's hand went to his blade. "Voidbinders."
Kael's eyes flared. "No. Maeryn."
End of Chapter 34