Chapter 263: Light Above, Shadow Below
The day began the way most days in the Hollow did—with noise. The clang of hammers, the smell of smoke from the forges, and the excited chatter of children already running through the streets like a pack of wild wolves. Kael rose early, his body still aching from yesterday's labor, but he welcomed the ache. It was proof that he lived among his people, not above them.
He started with the council. The morning sun slanted through the half-finished glass windows of the council hall, dust motes swirling in the air as the members filed in. Saekaros gave his report on the state of the people, listing food stores, complaints, and praises with his usual dramatic flair. Rogan spoke bluntly about the recruits, boasting that at least five could nearly keep pace with him now. Thalos, sitting in on behalf of the schools, detailed the lessons being taught to the children—mathematics, literacy, history.
Kael leaned back in his chair, listening with arms folded. It was a simple meeting, but that simplicity filled him with something close to pride. This was progress. Order. Something no slaver, no outside force, had any right to strip away from them.
By midday, Kael was outside with the recruits, wooden blade in hand. He sparred them one by one, sometimes two at once, laughing as they strained and grunted against him. He corrected their footing, swatted their hands when their grips slipped, and barked encouragement when one actually managed to strike his ribs hard enough to make him grunt. Sweat soaked through his shirt, the sun baking his shoulders, but he felt alive.
Later, he walked among the markets, talking to smiths and farmers, pausing to help a mason hoist stone blocks into place for the new meeting hall. Children swarmed him again, tugging at his arms until he relented to another round of mock battle. Flour bags became fireballs, sticks became blades, and once again Kael roared his monstrous growl until they toppled him with laughter. Their parents smiled as they dragged their little warriors home for supper.
By the time night fell, the Hollow had quieted. Torches burned in sconces, their glow stretching across cobbled streets. Families huddled inside their homes, the warmth of food and love replacing the noise of the day. But Kael did not sleep.
Instead, he walked alone. Past the barracks. Past the forges cooling for the night. Down toward the mouth of the dungeon, where the air itself seemed to hum with something alien. He descended into the dark, torchlight flickering over damp stone until he reached the tenth floor chamber.
And there he was. Zerathis.
The daemon still hung in his chains, but even bound, he radiated power. His eyes glowed faintly, a smoldering furnace banked but never extinguished. He tilted his head as Kael entered, lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Back again," Zerathis rumbled, his voice like gravel dragged across iron. "Does your council not grow weary of you wandering into the dark to speak with a monster?"
"They know I'm not reckless," Kael replied, stepping closer. His torchlight spilled across the daemon's scarred chest, the runes carved into the chains holding him alight with a sickly glow. "I came to ask you more questions."
"Ask, then. What is time to me?"
Kael studied him for a long moment, then said, "You speak of freedom. You curse the daemon lord for binding you here. But what is it you truly want, Zerathis? If I cut you free, what would you do?"
Zerathis's expression shifted. For a moment, it was calm—measured, almost reflective. "I want what every living thing craves. To shape my fate by my own hand. To burn away the chains of false kings who think themselves gods." His lip curled. "The daemon lord bound me because he feared me. He could not break me, so he caged me. I will never forgive him for that."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So you want revenge."
For the briefest heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, the air itself seemed to tremble.
The daemon's aura surged outward like a tidal wave, slamming into Kael's chest. His torch guttered. His breath caught as the full force of Zerathis's bloodlust washed over him. It was primal, suffocating, a storm of hatred and hunger so deep it clawed at Kael's very bones.
Zerathis leaned forward in his chains, eyes blazing like molten fire. "Revenge?" His voice was a thunderclap, vibrating the stone walls. "I want annihilation. I want to tear the daemon lord's throat out with my teeth. I want to grind his empire to ash and salt the ground where his throne stood. I want the world to remember the name Zerathis as the one who turned the daemon realm on its head and left it burning!"
The chains rattled violently as he strained against them, the runes flaring bright as they fought to hold his fury in place.
Kael stood his ground, though sweat prickled down his spine. He clenched his jaw, heart hammering, but he refused to step back. "And if I free you… would you turn that same fire on my people?"
The daemon stilled. Slowly, unnervingly, the bloodlust receded, though it left the air heavy as smoke after a fire. Zerathis tilted his head, watching Kael like a predator deciding if the creature before him was prey or kin.
"I told you before," he said, voice quieter now but no less sharp. "I have no loyalty to the daemon lord's world anymore. But you, Kael…" His lips curved into something close to amusement. "You walk a path steeped in strength. If you mean to rule, then rule with fire. Bind me, fight me, break me—if you can. Only then will I know if your cause is worth bending my knee."
Kael's hands tightened around the hilt of his sword. His mind churned with doubt and possibility. Zerathis was no simple beast to tame—he was a storm caged in chains, and one wrong choice could see the Hollow consumed in fire.
But as he turned to leave the chamber, Kael found one thought gnawed at him above all the rest.
How different are we, truly? Him and me?