Chapter 947 — Ashes to Brotherhood
The night was heavy with the scent of rain.
The Hollow's towers loomed dark and silent against the moonlight, their banners swaying in a cool wind that carried the whispers of thousands preparing for war.
Kael stood alone in the council chamber, the torches burning low. He had dismissed the guards, dismissed Lyria's concerned gaze, dismissed even Eris's quiet voice.
Tonight wasn't about kings or strategies or armies.
Tonight was about one man and one daemon.
Footsteps echoed through the grand chamber. Zerathis entered without his armor, his coat hanging open, his crimson eyes dimmer than usual. He looked tired—not physically, but in the way one looks when guilt eats away at the spirit.
Kael turned as he approached, hands clasped behind his back. "You came."
Zerathis huffed, his tail flicking once in irritation. "Didn't think I had much of a choice. Lyria found me and said you were ready to talk before you 'marched us all into history,' her words."
Kael allowed a faint smirk. "Sounds like her."
He motioned to the seat across from him. "Sit."
Zerathis sat, leaning forward on his knees, silent for a moment before exhaling roughly. "I'll just say it. I shouldn't have hit you."
Kael's brow raised slightly. "You shouldn't have disobeyed either."
Zerathis's jaw clenched. "Yeah. I know. But I wasn't thinking about orders then. I was thinking about Franklin, about what he did to me—sending me back to that pit." His hands curled into fists. "You can't understand what it's like, Kael. To rot there again after tasting freedom."
"I can," Kael said quietly. "I've walked through hell too, remember? I pulled you out of yours."
Zerathis looked up sharply, then sighed. "And then I went and turned my anger on you. Some friend I am."
"Some brother," Kael corrected softly. "You think I didn't know why you wanted to face him? I knew. I just couldn't let you walk to your death, Zerathis. You're more than a weapon. You're family."
The daemon's crimson eyes softened for the first time that night. "Family, huh? I almost killed my family then."
Kael shook his head. "No. You lost control for a moment. I lost patience. We both let pride steer us." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Truth is, it was a dumb argument. You should have obeyed. I should've talked instead of ordered. Simple as that."
Zerathis let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, guess we're both idiots then."
Kael smiled faintly. "Idiots who keep this place standing."
A quiet hung between them, not tense but reflective—like the silence before a dawn.
Finally, Zerathis spoke again, his voice low and sincere. "You were right, you know. About me dying if I went after him. I just—" He paused, searching for the right words. "I just didn't want to see you face him alone. You care too damn much, Kael. You'd throw yourself into fire for anyone here, and I… I couldn't let you."
Kael's chest tightened. "And I couldn't bear to lose you again."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then, without a word, Zerathis rose to his feet and crossed the room. Kael stood to meet him, and the daemon gripped his arm before pulling him into a rough, brotherly embrace.
The tension that had haunted them both since their fight finally broke.
"You're still infuriating," Kael muttered.
"Yeah," Zerathis replied with a smirk. "But I'm your infuriating problem."
They both laughed—quietly at first, then genuinely. For the first time in weeks, it wasn't the laughter of warriors or rulers. It was the sound of brothers.
When they finally pulled apart, Kael's eyes gleamed with something fierce and steady. "We move at dawn. You'll lead the eastern division with Varik. I want that bastard Franklin's stronghold burned to the ground."
Zerathis nodded, his crimson eyes flaring to life again. "And if he's there?"
Kael's voice turned cold, sharp as forged steel. "Then he's mine."
Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains—like the world itself acknowledging what was about to begin.
For the first time in the Hollow's history, the banners of four nations would march as one.
Not to defend.
Not to rebuild.
But to strike.
And at the center of it all, Kael stood—shoulder to shoulder with the daemon who had once been his enemy, now his brother once more.
The Hollow's first united war was about to begin.