Chapter Forty-Eight: The Path West
The wind howled across the barren cliffs as Kael stood at the helm of a slender ship, its sleek black wood gliding silently over the river that cut through the jagged gorges of the unknown West. The sky above was a burnt orange—neither day nor night—as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
He was alone now. Well, mostly.
Behind him, seated lazily beneath a tilted canopy, the old man sipped from a gourd and hummed an ancient song—its melody strange, wistful, haunting. Kael watched the distant shores as they passed: burnt forests, ruins swallowed by nature, statues of kings with shattered faces and swords snapped in half. Civilizations forgotten.
And yet… Kael smiled.
He was closer.
Twenty soldiers accompanied them—each cloaked, silent, and inhumanly disciplined. Not one had removed their helmets. Not one had spoken. Yet Kael had chosen them specifically.
Because none of them were real soldiers.
As the ship passed a towering gate half-buried in the mountainside, the old man finally stirred. His eyes were calm, deep as the sea, but carried weight Kael had learned to recognize.
"You know what lies ahead," the old man said.
Kael nodded. "I do."
"And yet you brought me."
Kael turned to him with a grin. "You're the only person who's seen what's out there and lived. That makes you either a coward… or a legend."
The old man chuckled. "Why not both?"
They shared a drink.
Just as Kael was about to return to the ship's edge, one of the silent soldiers stepped forward and handed him a sealed scroll. Kael opened it slowly—then frowned.
"A message from Rashad?"
The scroll held a drawing—not words. A picture of a serpent swallowing a sun.
"Another prophecy?" the old man asked.
Kael nodded. "Or a warning."
The wind suddenly stopped.
The river narrowed, and the cliffs closed in. Kael felt it first: the hum in the air. Ancient energy. Older than any kingdom.
"We're close," Kael said under his breath.
The ship came to a slow halt before a giant wall carved into the cliff face. Symbols in gold shimmered against its black stone—languages long dead.
Kael stepped off the ship.
"What is this place?" one of the soldiers whispered. It was the first time any of them had spoken.
Kael walked toward the wall, hand tracing its cold surface. "This… was the first empire."
The wall shuddered.
A seam cracked open.
Behind it lay a stairwell of ivory leading down—glowing faintly.
Kael looked back at the old man, his tone suddenly softer. "You betrayed your empire once. You still have time to make peace with it."
The old man's smile faded. "I'm only here for one thing."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"
The old man met his eyes, and for a second, Kael saw the glint of a crown long lost.
"To see if the world still fears my name."
Kael said nothing.
He simply turned and began the descent.
And as they vanished into the earth beneath the ancient wall, the last symbol on the entrance lit up—
A sun eclipsed by a black crown.
To be continued...