Book One: Rise of the Demonborn
Chapter 25: Disobedience in Silence
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Vorth Karran did not sleep.
It watched. It pulsed. It *listened.*
In the *Vault of Forgotten Tongues*, beneath the castle, whispers echoed across bones stacked like pillars.
Kael stood in the shadows, his wings folded close, gaze fixed on the five kneeling undead before him.
*Miraith* dared to lift her head.
"We only questioned your mercy, Hollow King."
Kael's voice was quiet.
"Mercy…?"
He stepped forward, each footfall making the bones beneath him crack.
"I let her live because her flame will burn bridges among humans.
Because her story will rot their unity from within."
His wings snapped open—dark and vast.
His eyes glowed pale white.
"Do not confuse *strategy* for weakness."
He raised a finger, and the soulflames above flickered.
"Do not mess with my plans… or you will be sorry."
Miraith trembled. Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
Kael clenched his fist—and *her voice was gone.* Permanently.
"You are loyal," he said coldly, "or you are *nothing*."
The room fell silent again.
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Meanwhile in *Solmar*, the *Council of War* debated deep into the night.
King Alric stood before a full war map.
"Another frontal assault would cost us everything," General Korr said. "But waiting allows him to grow."
Seren leaned forward. "He's building an empire of corpses. We need information."
Alric's eyes turned to *Lira.*
"You survived once. Can you go again?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"He *let* me live last time.
Now I need to know *why.*"
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When she reached the *Cursed Forest*, the trees parted once more.
She walked alone… and was met at the gates by *Serineth*, Kael's Pale Fire.
"This way," Serineth said without emotion. "The King is expecting you."
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Inside the *throne room*, Kael waited on the obsidian steps of his seat, cloaked in mist and silence.
Lira stepped forward. Her flame flickered.
"I came alone again," she said.
Kael's head tilted slightly.
"You speak with courage," he said. "Yet you carry deceit."
Her heart jumped.
"What do you mean?"
Kael raised a hand, and behind her, an echo of her last *Council meeting* played in ghostly whispers.
"She'll go. She'll find a weakness."
"Gather intelligence. If the city can be burned, we'll strike."
Lira's face paled.
"I didn't… mean to lie."
Kael stood slowly.
"Intent means little. You came here to *look for cracks.*"
He stepped down the stairs.
The flame in her hand shivered—like it *feared* him.
"There are no cracks.
Only the holes in your understanding."
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But then Kael stopped.
And his voice softened.
"Still… you came back."
Lira looked up, confused.
"I had to know what you were becoming," she said.
Kael turned, slowly walking back to his throne.
"Then listen well, firechild."
"I am not becoming anything.
I am *becoming everything they feared I could be.*"
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Back in Solmar, Lira's sudden return after only two hours unnerved the court.
"He knew everything," she said, trembling. "He hears voices across leagues. He saw your council chambers."
Seren swallowed. "What… *is* he?"
Lira answered without blinking.
"Sixteen. And already... a god of the dead."
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