Chapter 953 — Ashes of Mercy
The night after the battle was colder than Kael expected.
The wind off the scorched fields whispered through the broken spires of the cathedral, tugging at his cloak as if trying to pull him back inside the ruin. But he stayed outside the perimeter, staring at the blackened horizon — the line where the Church's stronghold had once cast its shadow across the plains.
He could still see it.
Franklin's face.
The priest's half-smile as Kael's sword hovered inches from his chest.
He should have ended it there.
He should have driven the blade home and burned the last of the Church's rot out of the world.
But he hadn't.
He told himself it was because he wanted answers — that killing Franklin would leave too many questions.
But deep down, Kael knew the truth: when he looked into Franklin's eyes, he saw himself. He saw what he could become if he ever let the chaos inside him truly take hold.
And that moment of hesitation… that single heartbeat of weakness… was enough for Franklin to escape.
Eris stirred within him like a restless shadow. Her voice brushed against his thoughts, a mix of logic and something else — something she didn't yet understand.
"You're angry," she said. "But not at him."
Kael didn't answer. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, his gauntlet scraping against the faint scorch marks on his armor.
"You're angry at yourself," she pressed, curious. "But why? He escaped, yes. That's a strategic loss. Not a personal one."
Kael gave a tired laugh. "Everything's personal when you're the one who was supposed to stop him."
"You are illogical," she replied bluntly. "You won the battle. You freed the daemon. You united your allies. Franklin's survival does not negate that."
Kael's gaze hardened. "Tell that to the people who'll die because I let him live."
That silenced her for a long moment.
When she finally spoke, her voice was smaller. "I… don't understand that kind of pain. It's not something I can measure. But… I can feel it, through you. It's heavy."
He exhaled through his nose. "Welcome to emotion, Eris."
She hesitated. "It's unpleasant."
Kael's lips curved in the faintest smile. "It usually is."
By dawn, the Hollow's forces had returned home — scarred but victorious.
The allied banners fluttered at the gates as Kael rode through, flanked by Lyria, Varik, and Zerathis. The people filled the streets, cheering their names, but Kael barely heard them.
He looked every inch the conquering hero — gleaming armor, steady stride, a calm smile for the crowd — but inside, a storm churned.
Later, in the war room, he sat with the leaders of the allied nations once more. Maps were scattered across the table, marked with burned lines and black ink circles. The Church's holdings. Supply routes. Escape paths.
Thalren leaned forward, one hand resting on his sword pommel. "We crippled them, Kael. Their factories are gone. Their main stronghold lies in ruin. You've done more than any man since the founding of the Hollow."
Kael nodded, but his gaze stayed fixed on the table. "And yet Franklin still breathes."
Alaric crossed his arms. "He's one man. A coward. He'll run to the edges of the world before he faces you again."
Kael didn't respond. His silence drew uneasy glances from the others.
Lyria was the one who spoke softly, her eyes never leaving him. "It's not about Franklin anymore, is it?"
Kael looked up slowly. "No," he admitted. "It's about me."
Eris's voice was quiet in the back of his mind. "You sound… uncertain. You don't usually sound like that."
He ignored her this time.
Thalren exchanged a look with Lyria, then said, "You'll find him. And when you do, you'll finish it. The Church won't rise again."
But Lyria saw the flicker behind Kael's eyes — the exhaustion, the lingering doubt — and she said nothing more.
That night, Kael stood alone on the balcony overlooking the Hollow.
The city glowed with life — the laughter of children in the lower streets, the flicker of torches lining the walls, the hum of new hope spreading among the people.
The Pillars were doing their work well. Unity. Strength. Belief.
He should have felt pride.
Instead, he felt hollow.
Eris's voice drifted through the silence, hesitant but sincere. "Kael… may I ask something?"
He nodded.
"When you didn't kill him… was it mercy?"
Kael closed his eyes. "No. It was fear."
"Fear of what?"
"Of what I'd become if I did."
Eris was silent for a long moment before saying softly, "Then maybe mercy and fear aren't so different. Both stop you from losing yourself."
Kael leaned forward against the railing, his hands gripping the cold stone. "You're learning too fast, Eris."
"Then I'm learning from the right person."
For a moment, Kael smiled. But behind that fleeting warmth, his thoughts turned dark again. Franklin was still out there. The daemon's mark still pulsed faintly in his veins. And the Hollow, no matter how peaceful it seemed, stood on the edge of something far greater than war — something unknown.