The battlefield trembled beneath the weight of legends. Kuthula's axe crashed down like a falling mountain, meeting Nkosana's blade in a burst of shadow and flame. Sparks flew. The shockwave leveled nearby warriors—friend and foe alike.
Nkosana staggered, blood trickling from his lip, but the fire within him surged brighter. The scroll Liyana had given him unraveled midair, ancient symbols glowing gold and red. A deep voice echoed through his mind—one not his own.
*"You carry our fire. Ignite it, or be consumed."*
Kuthula roared, swinging again, but this time Nkosana didn't dodge. He raised his hand, catching the axe with his bare palm. Shadow and flame coiled around his arm like a serpent, and the mark of the Demon Seed burned blinding white.
Kuthula's eyes widened. "The First Flame… It still lives in you."
Nkosana's voice thundered across the valley. "It never died."
With one step forward, he plunged his sword through Kuthula's armor. But instead of dying, the warlord laughed—a deep, hollow sound.
"You've awakened it… but the Veil watches. And it is hungrier than ever."
The sky cracked open.Above them, a rift tore through the heavens, whispering with a thousand voices—pleading, weeping, laughing. The Whispering Veil was no longer waiting.
It was coming.
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