The world was quiet again.
Only the wind whispered through the shattered remains of steel and fire. Kael stood motionless, the city behind him half in ruins, his reflection trembling in a pool of molten glass.
He had seen Vaelstrom — if only for a heartbeat.
And then the Monarch had vanished through the black portal, leaving nothing behind but the echo of his power.
Kael's body still trembled from the shock.
He turned, half-buried in rubble, something glimmering caught his eye — a blade.
Its crimson surface pulsed faintly, like it breathed.
When his fingers touched the hilt, the air rippled, and a voice spoke — smooth, low, ancient.
> "So… you've found me."
Kael froze.
> "Who's there?"
> "Names… are chains. But you may call me Azareth. Others once called me the Red Soul."
The sound rolled through the air like thunder muffled by distance.
> "Why are you in my head?" Kael whispered.
> "Because you touched my sword," Azareth replied softly. "It remembers me."
Kael glanced down. The blade shimmered red, its edge humming with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
> "Ruinheart," he read faintly from the markings along its core.
The voice laughed.
> "Yes. That is its name. It and I… share a history."
A cold tremor passed through Kael's arm, creeping to his chest.
> "What do you want?"
> "Nothing," Azareth said, almost kindly. "But soon, you will."
The wind shifted. The blade flared crimson — for an instant Kael saw something in the reflection: a faint figure of light, trapped within the steel, its face unreadable but sorrowful. Then it was gone.
> "Stop it—!"
> "You can't escape what you've awakened."
Then, silence.
Kael's eyes dimmed back to brown. His body staggered as the red light sank into the ground, leaving nothing but the sound of his quickened breath.
He stared at his hands, still trembling.
> "Vaelstrom… what is happening to me?"
---
✴ Scene 2 – The Monarch's Hall
Far beyond Earth's sky, within the Monarch's citadel, the chamber of black flame trembled.
A faint pulse rippled through the air — a signal not felt for centuries.
Vaelstrom rose from his throne, one gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of Elaris, his Spirit Sword. The weapon's glow had shifted — no longer serene silver, but flickering uneasily.
Elaris:
> "That presence… it returns."
Her voice was soft, almost fearful.
Vaelstrom:
> "Speak."
Elaris:
> "It was faint… but I know that resonance. The same that once scarred the heavens. The sword called Ruinheart."
The Monarch's eyes narrowed.
Seraphine entered the hall swiftly, kneeling.
> "Your Majesty. The scouts confirmed a surge in the hidden realm — the world of Humans . The pulse came from there."
Vaelstrom:
> "The same place I found the boy."
Varin:
> "The one with the crimson eyes… Kael?"
Vaelstrom nodded. His expression was unreadable.
> "He raised that blade against me. Yet I saw hesitation — confusion. That weapon… it used him."
Elaris pulsed faintly, her tone filled with quiet dread.
> "Ruinheart was the sword of Azareth the Crimson Oath. If it has appeared again, then that thing stirs once more."
Varin:
> "Forgive me, my lord, but if the Red Soul awakens, shouldn't we—"
Vaelstrom (coldly):
> "No."
The word struck like iron. The chamber fell silent.
Vaelstrom:
> "No one acts. Not until I see it myself. The world of Human was created for peace — not to cradle our wars. If that peace is breaking, then I will cross the veil myself."
Elaris's light dimmed, her voice trembling.
> "My King… if Ruinheart's master truly walks again, even you may not—"
Vaelstrom:
> "Then I will remind him why it was buried."
He lifted Elaris, and the chamber filled with her silver glow.
Seraphine (softly):
> "And the boy?"
Vaelstrom's tone softened for the first time.
> "He was raised under our roof. I will not call him enemy until I've looked into his eyes and seen no trace of Kael."
Elaris whispered faintly:
> "Then may the light guide you, my king… for the darkness already knows your name."
The black portal opened before him, its edge rippling like water under moonlight.
Vaelstrom stepped through.
The hall fell silent, save for the soft hum of Elaris's fading glow — and the echo of a name that should never have been spoken again.
---