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Chapter 27 - Chapter 26 : The Gathering storm

Book One: Rise of the Demonborn

Chapter 25: The Gathering Storm

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Across the continent, the winds shifted.

Messages were sent.

Sigils ignited.

And kingdoms that once warred against each other… stood together for the first time in centuries.

All of them had seen what was rising in the cursed heart of the world: *Kael, the Hollow King*.

And all agreed—*he must be erased.*

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In the capital of *Elaron*, the golden kingdom of the west, the *Four Great Thrones* held an emergency summit.

King Alric of Solmar stood at the center.

He gestured to the map.

"Theronox grows by the day. His influence is spreading through spirit-channels, cursed roots, undead whispers."

"But not anymore," interrupted the high priestess of the Dawn Faith.

She raised a silver relic glowing faintly.

"The *Holy Field of Veradell* is complete. It now surrounds our strongholds and borders."

She looked at Alric.

"Kael cannot see or hear within.

His spies have been silenced."

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In total, *seven kingdoms* pledged to this holy coalition.

- The beastmasters of *Dravuun*

- The fire-mages of *Vel'Orin*

- The snowlords of *Arktis*

- The blade clans of *Jharad*

- The steel armies of *Volstran*

- The sea kings of *Naer'kai*

- And the priest-ruled *Solmar*

They called it:

*"The Last Stand Accord"*

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Together, they forged the largest force in modern history:

*100,000 soldiers* per kingdom — *10 full battalions*

*Battle-mages*, *aerial riders*, *summoners*, *holy paladins*, and *beastmasters*

*Mercenaries* from the southern isles

And two dozen *elite heroes*, trained since childhood

But their deadliest asset… was *not* a man.

It was a *sealed artifact* recovered from a ruined temple beneath the sea:

*The Soul Iron Prism* — a relic built during the War of Gods.

Forged to *trap divinity itself*.

"It can seal even that which death obeys," whispered the archmage.

"But only if we reach him."

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While the world gathered like thunderclouds…

In *Vorth Karran*, Kael stared at the empty corners of his war map.

"Something's… *missing*," he muttered.

He couldn't hear the spirits of his scouts.

Couldn't see through his soulbound birds.

He clenched his jaw.

"They've blinded me."

He looked at Miraith.

"Send no one.

Let them believe I am deaf.

Let them *march.*"

His wings spread wide.

"Let them *come.*"

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But for the first time… a faint pulse of doubt flickered beneath his skin.

A feeling he hadn't known since childhood.

*The unknown.*

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