The storm of shadow swallowed Kael whole. For a mont there was nothing—no sound, no ground, no breath. Just endless dark pressing in on him like the weight of the ocean. His sword’s edge flickered faintly, the only shard of light in that suffocating void.
Whispers sward him, thousands of voices threading into his ears, each one wearing his failures like a mask.
“You let them die.”
“You raised your blade too late.”
“You could never save her.”
Kael roared into the darkness, swinging wildly. His blade cut shadows, but they closed in again, endless, suffocating. His chest burned as though the void sought to hollow him out, to make him one of its countless echoes.
Above, on the broken battlefield, Elara stood alone. Her fire had burned so bright it left her trembling, her skin blistered from her own magic. Yet she refused to fall. Her flas, now no more than flickering threads, hovered between her fingers as she glared at the towering shape of the Unborn.
“Give him back!” she scread, her voice raw, cracking the night with defiance.
The titan tilted its faceless head, molten veins of crimson coursing across its form. “He is mine now. All warriors fall into . He fights shadows because he is one.”
Elara’s legs buckled, but she forced herself upright, fire coiling around her arms. She thrust her palms forward, a blast of white-hot fla erupting against the creature’s chest. The Unborn staggered—not from pain, but as though mildly inconvenienced. Its laughter rolled like thunder.
Deep within the abyss, Kael fell to his knees. The whispers grew louder, gnawing at the seams of his mind. Images flashed before him—friends lost, battles failed, corpses he could not bury. And at the center of it all, Elara’s face, pale and fading, consud by fire that no longer obeyed her.
Sothing broke inside him—not surrender, but the iron refusal to let her fall where he still drew breath. His grip tightened around his sword, its glow flaring brighter, not from magic but from sheer will.
“No...” he growled, his voice carrying like a blade through the dark. “I am not yours.”
The whispers shrieked, recoiling, as Kael drove his sword point-first into the void. Light erupted, splitting the shadow like shattered glass.
On the battlefield, a geyser of white light burst from the Unborn’s chest. Elara shielded her eyes as Kael staggered free of the abyss, his sword blazing like a torch carved from defiance itself. His body was broken, bloodied, but his eyes burned with fury undimd.
The Unborn turned its veiled gaze down at him. For the first ti, the titan’s laughter ceased.
Kael raised his sword, its light trembling but unyielding. “You are not the abyss,” he spat. “You’re just its parasite.”
Elara staggered to his side, her fla rekindling in his light. Together, they stood against the towering shadow.
The night quaked, and the true battle began.
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