The border village of Vyrehold burned under a starless sky.
Houses once carved into the cliffside now lay in ruins, smoke choking the crag paths, screams long since silenced. What remained of the villagers were ash-pale husks—twisted into stone by something unnatural.
Kael stood at the heart of it all, his cloak torn and flaring in the smoke. Ashrend was drawn, humming with red energy, its aura pulsing against the air like a heartbeat.
Darric stepped through the debris, helmet under one arm, eyes grim. "This wasn't just a raid. They were… devoured."
Lyra knelt beside one of the bodies, examining the stone-like texture. "Veilspawn didn't do this. Not alone."
Kael's gaze moved to the black claw-marks carved across the stone walls. They glowed faintly, pulsing with a haunting violet hue.
"No," Kael said. "This was summoned."
As if to answer, the wind died.
Then came the first scream—high and strangled—from the cliffs above.
They turned just as the monster emerged.
It dropped from the heights like a meteor—twenty feet tall, cloaked in shifting black tendrils. A grotesque beast shaped like a knight, forged from broken armor and fused bone. Its head was a cage of jawless skulls. Its arms—twisted mauls—dripped with violet flame.
Veilbound Tyrant.
Kael didn't flinch.
"Lyra, high ground. Darric, flank it."
They moved without question. Lyra vanished into the shadows, while Darric charged the slope to the right. The creature roared—a sound like metal screaming—and swung its molten maul at Kael.
Kael vanished, reappearing in a blink of red light behind it.
Ashrend met the Tyrant's spine with a searing clang, carving a deep gash of crimson energy. The beast reeled, roaring again as its bones began to mend—but Kael was already mid-air, flipping backward to avoid the retaliating sweep.
It charged, but Darric intercepted, slamming his shield into the beast's arm and driving his warblade into the exposed gap.
Lyra's arrows rained from above—each tipped in Sovereign-forged steel, singing through the air and sinking deep into its eyes.
Still, the monster refused to fall.
Kael landed and narrowed his eyes. His blade flared—flames spiraling along its length.
"Ashrend—Answer."
He surged forward, aura flaring bright red. The world seemed to slow around him. The Mark on his chest blazed.
In a flash, Kael slashed through the creature's chest—then vanished again, reappearing behind it, his voice cold.
"Crimson Severance."
The air exploded in red lightning as Ashrend's arc completed—a wave of power slicing through the Tyrant's neck.
For a moment, it stood—frozen.
Then its head slid from its shoulders, black ichor spilling into the dirt, sizzling like acid.
Kael sheathed his blade without a word.
The aftermath was quiet.
Darric wiped his blade clean. "That's a new one. What do you call it?"
Kael said nothing.
Lyra approached slowly. "That attack… it wasn't just a cut. You severed its soul."
Kael stared down at the creature's remains.
"I think," he murmured, "the blade is starting to remember who it once served."
Far Away — Atop the Pale Bastion
Malrik stood at the edge of his tower, cloak flaring in the winds of the Veil.
He had felt the severance. The Mark's pulse. His connection to the Tyrant, shattered.
His lieutenants knelt behind him in silence.
He did not look back.
"The Brand awakens. And the boy learns to kill like a Sovereign."
His lip curled into something dark and amused.
"Good."