The ruins of Aethermoor rose against the dawn sky like broken teeth.
Kael stood at the forest edge with his strike force of fifty warriors, staring at what remained of his ancestral home. The great castle walls had been reduced to jagged silhouettes. The towers where his grandmother had once held court were nothing but hollow shells. And everywhere, everywhere, were the scorch marks and bloodstains of a kingdom that had died screaming.
"I remember when this place shone like a jewel," Commander Theron said quietly beside him. "White marble reflecting the sun. Gardens that bloomed year-round. Music and laughter echoing through every hall. Now look at it."
Kael looked. And saw his future written in broken stone.
"Malkor's forces are concentrated at the central keep," Lyra reported, lowering her spyglass. "I count at least two hundred Shadowbound, plus regular troops. And there, in the throne room ruins—I can see dark magic building. Whatever ritual he's attempting, it's already started."
"How long do we have?"
"Hours. Maybe less." Sera's expression was grim. "I can feel it from here—the seal is straining, ready to break. Once it does..."
She didn't need to finish. They all knew what happened if the Void was released under Malkor's control.
"Then we move now." Kael drew his sword, silver flames flickering along its edge. "Split into three teams. Lyra, take the east approach. Theron, come with me through the main gate. Sera, you and the others secure our escape route and prepare for casualties."
"You're going straight through the front?" Lyra stared at him. "That's insane."
"That's why they won't expect it. Besides, I need to draw attention. Malkor knows I'm here—he's probably been waiting for me. If I give him a target, it pulls forces away from you."
"Or gets you killed."
"Then I die trying. Better than dying hiding." Kael met her eyes steadily. "This is what I was made for, Lyra. My bloodline exists for this moment. Let me be what I need to be."
Something flickered across her face—pride, fear, or maybe just acceptance. She nodded. "Don't die stupidly, farm boy. I still have training plans for you."
Despite everything, Kael smiled. "I'll do my best."
The teams separated, moving into position. Kael led his group through the overgrown gardens toward the shattered main gate. With each step, he felt the mark on his wrist burning hotter, resonating with the ancient magic woven into these ruins.
This was his home. His birthright. His burden.
The Shadowbound spotted them fifty yards from the gate. Alarm bells rang. Dark armored figures poured from the ruins like ants from a disturbed nest.
"Here we go," Kael said, and charged.
Silver flames erupted around him as he hit the enemy line. His sword sang through the air, cutting through corrupted armor like paper. The power in his blood roared to life, answering the call of battle, demanding blood and death and victory.
Kael gave it all three.
He moved through the Shadowbound like a force of nature, his blade leaving trails of silver fire. Around him, his warriors fought with desperate courage, holding the line against overwhelming numbers. They were outnumbered ten to one, but they had something the enemy didn't.
They had hope. And they had a king who burned with the light of ancient magic.
Kael fought his way into the castle proper, following the pull of dark magic toward the throne room. Behind him, the sounds of battle echoed through ruined halls. Ahead, he felt something vast and terrible stirring.
The throne room had been magnificent once. Now it was a nightmare of broken stone and corrupted magic. At its center, where his grandmother's throne had stood, a ritual circle blazed with dark power. And in the middle of that circle stood a figure Kael had only seen in nightmares and history books.
Lord Malkor.
He was younger than Kael expected, perhaps forty, with aristocratic features and eyes that burned with terrible intelligence. His armor was black as midnight, etched with runes that hurt to look at. And in his hands, he held a staff topped with a crystal that pulsed with captured shadows.
"Kael of Aethermoor," Malkor said, his voice smooth and cultured. "The lost heir returns to his ruined kingdom. How poetic. How tragically predictable."
"Whatever you're doing, stop it now." Kael raised his sword, silver flames blazing. "The Void can't be controlled. Release it and you doom us all."
Malkor laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Control it? Oh, my naive young king. I don't intend to control it. I intend to become it. To merge with its power, to transcend mortality and limitation. Your grandmother tried to keep this power locked away, wasted in darkness. I will set it free—and in doing so, become a god."
"You'll become a monster."
"What's the difference?" Malkor's smile was terrible. "Gods are monsters with better press. But enough philosophy. You came to stop me, so try. Show me the legendary power of Aethermoor. Show me why I had to murder an entire kingdom to prevent this moment."
The ritual circle pulsed. The floor beneath Kael's feet cracked. And from that crack, something vast and hungry began to emerge.
The Void was breaking free.
Kael didn't think. Didn't hesitate. He charged at Malkor, pouring every ounce of power he possessed into his blade. Silver flames erupted in a pillar of light that illuminated the entire ruined castle.
Malkor met him with dark magic that screamed across the throne room. The two forces collided in an explosion that shook the very foundations of reality.
And in that moment, as light and shadow warred in the heart of his fallen kingdom, Kael finally understood what his grandmother had known all along.
Some battles couldn't be won. Some prices had to be paid. Some sacrifices were inevitable.
The only question was whether you made them willing or broken.
Kael gritted his teeth, pushed harder, and chose willing.
The silver flames burned brighter, fed by his life, his soul, everything he was. And for just a moment, they pushed back the darkness.
For just a moment, the heir of Aethermoor stood as his ancestors had stood—as a beacon against the night.
Then the Void reached up from its prison and dragged them both screaming into its embrace.