The storm did not come from the sky.
It rose from the ground itself.
Ash drifted across the broken courtyard like falling snow, clinging to armor, skin, and memory. The shattered spires of Blackveil Citadel groaned as if the stone remembered the screams once carved into it. Fires burned without warmth. Shadows bent in directions no light should allow.
Kael stood at the center of it all, chest rising and falling like a wounded beast.
Blood ran down his left arm—not his own.
Not entirely.
The sigil of the First Crown burned across his palm, no longer dormant. It pulsed with a slow, dreadful rhythm, like a second heart beating beneath his skin.
Thump.
Thump.
Each beat echoed through the ruins.
Around him lay the remnants of the Veilguard—elite warriors of the Dominion—men and women who had sworn their lives to prevent this very moment. Their armor was split. Their weapons melted. Their eyes frozen wide in terror.
Kael had not meant to kill them.
But the Crown did not care about intention.
Only awakening.
Behind him, Lyra staggered to her feet, coughing ash from her lungs. Her silver eyes—once calm, calculating—were now wide with fear.
"Kael…" she whispered.
He did not turn.
Not because he ignored her.
Because he was afraid of what she might see if he did.
Inside him, something ancient stirred—stretching after centuries of sleep.
He is unworthy, it murmured.
The voice did not come from outside.
It came from everywhere.
From the blood on the stones.
From the air in his lungs.
From the memory of flames he had never witnessed yet somehow remembered.
Kael clenched his fist.
"Get out of my head," he growled.
The Crown answered with laughter.
A low, echoing sound that bent the world around it.
You wear my mark, it said. You breathe because I allow it. You stand because the world has chosen you to burn.
Images crashed into his mind.
Cities collapsing under black fire.
Crowns melting atop kings' skulls.
A boy kneeling in ash, screaming for a mother whose face he could not remember.
Kael dropped to one knee, gripping his head.
Lyra rushed toward him—but stopped when the ground between them split open.
A crimson fracture tore across the courtyard, glowing like molten veins beneath the stone.
"Don't come closer!" Kael shouted.
His voice echoed wrong.
Too deep.
Too old.
From the far end of the courtyard, a slow clap broke the chaos.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A man emerged from the smoke.
Tall. Cloaked in ivory and black. His hair was white, not with age, but with design. His eyes gleamed gold, bearing the unmistakable mark of Dominion High Command.
Lord Veyrion Ashborne.
The Architect of Silence.
The man who had ordered the massacre of Kael's village twelve years ago.
"Well," Veyrion said calmly, stepping over bodies without glancing down. "So the rumors were true."
Lyra drew her blade instantly. "Ashborne."
He smiled. "Little Seer. Still alive. How disappointing."
Kael forced himself to stand, rage cutting through the fog in his mind like lightning.
"You," he said.
Veyrion tilted his head. "Ah. He recognizes me. How poetic."
The sigil on Kael's palm flared brighter.
Veyrion's smile widened.
"There it is," he whispered. "The First Crown has finally chosen its vessel."
"I'm not your vessel," Kael snarled.
"No," Veyrion agreed softly. "You're our weapon."
With a flick of his fingers, the air behind him rippled.
Figures stepped through—at least twenty—Dominion Inquisitors clad in black glass armor. Each carried a spear etched with anti-arcane runes.
Lyra cursed under her breath.
"We can't fight all of them."
Veyrion raised his hand, stopping them.
"No," he said. "We don't kill him."
He looked directly at Kael.
"We awaken him."
Before Kael could react, Veyrion drove a dagger into his own palm.
Golden blood spilled onto the stones.
The ground screamed.
Ancient runes ignited across the courtyard, forming a massive circle—one older than the Citadel itself.
Lyra's eyes widened in horror.
"That's a Binding of Sovereigns," she gasped. "Kael, move!"
Too late.
Chains of light erupted from the circle, wrapping around Kael's arms, legs, and chest. The Crown reacted violently—black fire clashing against gold sigils in a deafening explosion of power.
Kael screamed.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
The voice inside him roared awake.
THEY DARE TOUCH ME.
The sky tore open.
For a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist.
And then—
Something answered.
Far beyond the continent.
Beyond oceans.
Beyond the sealed thrones of forgotten gods.
A presence turned its gaze toward Kael.
Lyra felt it instantly.
She fell to her knees, blood leaking from her nose.
"What… is that?" she whispered.
Veyrion laughed—ecstatic.
"Yes," he breathed. "Yes! The beacon is working!"
Kael's vision fractured.
He saw a massive throne floating in void, cracked down the center.
Upon it sat a figure wrapped in chains of starlight.
Its eyes opened.
And looked directly at him.
Bearer of my ashes, the being spoke.
You have awakened the war.
The chains around Kael shattered.
A shockwave blasted outward, throwing Inquisitors like leaves in a hurricane. Veyrion was flung backward, slamming into a pillar—but he was laughing even as blood poured from his mouth.
Kael hovered inches above the ground, engulfed in black and crimson flame.
Lyra screamed his name.
He turned toward her.
For a terrifying second, she did not recognize his eyes.
Then—
He fell.
The fire vanished.
The Crown went silent.
Kael collapsed into the ash.
Lyra ran to him, catching his body before it hit the stone.
"Kael! Kael, stay with me!"
His breathing was shallow. The sigil still glowed faintly, like embers refusing to die.
Behind them, Veyrion dragged himself upright.
"This changes nothing," he coughed. "Volume one of history always ends the same way."
Lyra glared at him. "I'll kill you."
He smiled. "Not yet."
Then he vanished into smoke.
Silence reclaimed the courtyard.
But it was not peace.
Far away, deep beneath the world, ancient seals cracked.
Kings long dead stirred in their graves.
And across the continent, those who bore royal blood woke screaming.
Lyra held Kael tightly, tears cutting paths through the ash on her face.
"The Crown has chosen you," she whispered. "And now… everyone will come for you."
Kael's eyes fluttered open for a moment.
"Lyra…" he murmured.
"Yes. I'm here."
He swallowed.
"If I lose myself… don't let me become what they want."
Her grip tightened.
"I promise."
But even as she spoke, the Crown pulsed once more.
And somewhere beyond the horizon—
A horn of war sounded.