The Blackstone Chasm came into view like the open maw of a beast ready to devour the world.
Selene sat astride her Drakon at the ridge, her cloak whipping like torn night in the wind. The army that had survived the betrayal crawled behind her—scarred, bloodied, but unbroken. The storm above was not sky; it was a wound bleeding shadow and fire. Lightning forked crimson, and the earth trembled as if even the bones of the world feared what slept below.
And then she saw them.
The Hollow Flame army stretched across the Chasm's mouth like a tide of darkness, their crimson armor pulsing with sigils carved in blood. Their banners burned with living fire, and beyond them rose pillars of obsidian, crowned in flames that screamed.
At their heart stood a throne of blackened bone. And upon it, Malrik—wreathed in a mantle of fire and shadow, his smile a blade that promised ruin.
But Selene's eyes didn't linger on him.
They found the figure standing at Malrik's side. Rael her son or what was left of him.
He was taller now, his body forged into something sharp and terrible. His wings spread wide, feathers of shadow flickering with ember light. His mismatched eyes were gone—replaced by twin golden suns rimmed in black flame. And yet, even through the horror, she felt it—like a thread of silver stretched across a void he was hers.
Selene's heart clenched, a storm breaking inside her chest. "Rael…" she whispered, the name torn from her like blood.
Kieran followed her gaze, his jaw a stone wall, his golden eyes burning with a wrath she could almost taste. "That's not a boy anymore, Selene," he said harshly. "That's a weapon. And Malrik means to turn him on you."
Her breath trembled. "Then I'll break the chains before Malrik does."
"You mean to walk into his army and—" Kieran broke off, fury and fear warring in his voice. He gripped her arm, spinning her to face him. "Listen to me. If he raises that blade against you, I won't hesitate. I won't let him kill you."
Silver eyes locked on gold, fierce as lightning. "And if I let you kill him, Kieran, I'll die anyway."
The wind howled between them, thick with rain and fire and unspoken truths.
Finally, Kieran let go—but his voice was a low growl, rough with something deeper than rage. "Then don't ask me to watch him tear you apart."
Before she could answer, a horn split the storm—a sound like bone cracking under a god's fist. The Hollow Flame moved as one, their formation rippling like a sea of blood.
The battle for the Blackstone Chasm had begun.
Selene raised her dagger, its runes igniting with silver fire. Her voice rang across the ridge, clear as the blade of dawn:
"Vaeloras! For the realms! For the crown! For the blood they seek to burn!"
A roar answered her—a sound of desperation and fury, of soldiers who had nothing left but this fight.
Drakons screamed as they launched into the storm. War drums thundered, their beat shaking the bones of the mountains. And then the two armies crashed together in a collision of steel and flame that split the night apart.
Selene's Drakon dived like a falling star, claws ripping through crimson ranks, wings scattering fire like meteors. She leapt from the saddle into the heart of the Hollow Flame, silver flames wreathing her body as her dagger cut through enchanted steel like silk.
Every strike was a promise.
Every drop of blood was a vow.
Through the chaos, her gaze stayed locked on the throne On him Rael.
And for a heartbeat—just a heartbeat—he looked back.
Something flickered in his eyes. A crack in the darkness. A whisper of the boy she had once held, the child who had laughed in her arms before the world stole him away.
Her breath caught. Her heart surged.
And then Malrik's voice thundered through the storm: "Kill her."
Rael's wings flared, his blade leapt to his hand, and the chains inside him screamed for blood.
Selene froze—not out of fear, but because she knew this moment would decide everything.
Would he obey?
Or would he burn the world to be free?