The sky raged with fire. Crimson arcs of lightning coiled like serpents, lashing against the Sovereign's walls of white flame. Each strike made the heavens scream, each defense reshaped the land below.
Kael's blade burned red, his aura a storm made flesh. The Sovereign's eyes glowed with merciless calm, his hand moving as though the world itself bent to his will.
"You've carried this farce long enough," the Sovereign's voice boomed, more thunder than speech. "A boy of blood and ruin cannot rise above a king."
Kael's lips bled, his lungs seared with smoke, but his voice cut through the firestorm.
"I am not rising above you," he spat, tightening his grip on the blade. Crimson sparks lit the ground beneath his boots. "I am burning through you."
The Sovereign's laugh rolled across the horizon. "Then burn. And be consumed."
They clashed again.
The world broke with them.
Far from the duel, in the depths of the Sovereign's court, the reactions spread like wildfire. The obsidian chambers quaked with each echo of the clash above the skies, chandeliers shattering, mosaics of past rulers raining shards across marble floors.
The high ministers shouted over each other:
"He wields the lightning as if it were his birthright—"
"—a rebel, a heretic, a curse born from Velaryn's ashes—"
"—or a weapon. If he survives, we must bind him. If not, we must bury every trace—"
The Grand Inquisitor Karlen slammed his staff down, silence cracking like a whip through the chamber. His hood cast his face in shadow, but his voice struck cold and sharp.
"Do you not understand? This is not a rebellion. It is a reckoning. If Rivenhart lives, our Sovereign's word will no longer be law—it will be questioned. And if that happens…" His gaze cut like a blade across the rows of trembling lords and ladies. "…then the court itself will be the first to burn."
Back at the battlefield, Kael's companions shielded their faces from the storm. Lyra's cry still echoed in the blaze, and though her voice was small against the roar of gods, Kael's lightning flared brighter—answering.
Serenya pressed trembling fingers to her lips, whispering a frozen prayer. Darric clenched his teeth, his knuckles white on his sword. Even Revan, ever silent, muttered under his breath:
"Strike harder, Kael. Strike until nothing remains."
And above them all, crimson lightning rose higher, daring the Sovereign's flame to smother it.