The hall trembled with the Original Keeper's words, each syllable echoing like a hammer striking metal. Kaelen's breath came heavy, his fists tightening at his sides. He could feel the Abyss surging inside him, screaming in chaos—half urging him to run, half hungering for the power this figure promised.
The man stood tall, his silver eyes burning into Kaelen's own. "You know the Council cannot be trusted. They use us. They bury us. And when we are no longer useful, they replace us." He extended his hand, palm up, the faint glow of his shackles radiating like molten chains. "Break these bindings, and together we will burn their lies to ash."
Kaelen's throat was dry. His mind flickered with images: the Veilmaster's cold instructions, the Council's cryptic demands, the countless times he had been thrown into battles without answers.
Yet another image cut through: Seliora's face, steady and fierce. Her words echoed in his memory. "Not all prisons are meant to be broken."
The Abyss hissed in his mind. He is dangerous. He is us.
Kaelen's hand hovered over the glowing chains. Heat pulsed up his arm, sharp and intoxicating. He could feel the power there—raw, limitless. For a heartbeat, he imagined what it would be like to wield it. To no longer serve, but to command.
Then he pulled his hand back.
The Original Keeper's expression hardened. "So you choose to kneel."
"No," Kaelen said, his voice steady though his chest ached. "I choose to stand. On my own."
The hall shook violently. The chains rattled, glowing brighter as the man's fury boiled over. "Then you are nothing more than another pawn! When the truth consumes you, remember this moment!"
The throne room split open, light tearing across the floor like lightning. Kaelen was hurled backward, the force tearing him from the Core. The last thing he saw was the Keeper's burning silver gaze, full of wrath and promise.
Then darkness swallowed him whole.
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