The world was swallowed by darkness.
Not the kind that simply blots out light—but a suffocating, unnatural shadow that seemed to cling to the skin and invade the mind.
I couldn't see. Couldn't hear. For a heartbeat, I wasn't even sure I was breathing.
Then—
A spark.
Flame flickered from Adrian's sword. Enchanted steel. It burned with radiant gold, cutting through the gloom like a beacon.
"Swords up!" he barked.
The royal guards responded instantly, forming a protective ring around him and Ellara.
But I was already moving.
I didn't need to see. The pressure in the air told me where the Seer stood. The magic was thick—like ash swirling in water.
"You should have stayed asleep," came the Seer's voice, smooth and hollow.
I hurled a pulse of energy in its direction. A flare of blue light lit the chamber for a moment—and in that brief flash, I saw them:
A figure wrapped in shimmering shadow, face hidden, arms tattooed in the inked runes of time magic.
A Temporal Seer.
"You were part of this all along," I muttered. "You've been resetting everything."
"Yes," the Seer replied. "Because you were never meant to survive past the first loop. You were a variable—one I contained again and again."
"But this time I woke up too early," I said, stepping closer, energy crackling around my hands.
The Seer's smile was audible. "And now you've made things worse for all of us."
Adrian joined my side, sword gleaming. "Enough riddles. Who are you working for?"
"Not who," the Seer whispered. "What."
Suddenly the room shook.
Books fell from shelves. Cracks split across the marble floor. A heavy red mist began to pour in from the shattered doors behind the Seer.
The Shadow Court wasn't alone.
They'd opened a breach.
From the mist came clawed shapes. Eyes like dying stars. Creatures from the forgotten realm—Phantomborn.
Adrian cursed under his breath.
I turned to him. "Protect Ellara. I'll deal with the Seer."
"No," he said, gaze fierce. "We fight together."
A second passed between us—then a nod. Agreed.
The first Phantomborn lunged.
Adrian met it mid-air, blade searing into its throat.
I clashed with the Seer, our powers colliding in a storm of light and shadow. Each of their attacks came laced with time magic—twisting the flow of battle, skipping seconds, distorting space.
But I was ready.
This wasn't the first time I'd faced them.
It was just the first time I had a reason to win.
"You always lose here," the Seer hissed, voice cracking with rage. "Why fight fate?"
I gritted my teeth. "Because I'm not fighting for fate anymore."
A blast of light erupted from my palm, hitting the Seer square in the chest and sending them flying back.
Before I could follow up—
A scream.
I turned—
Ellara was gone.
Adrian froze.
And then we saw it.
One of the Phantomborn held her in its arms… stepping into the red mist of the breach.
"No!" Adrian shouted, surging forward—
But he was too late.
The rift closed behind them.
The Seer, bloodied and broken, began to laugh.
"Now… let's see if you'll break him too."
The blade hovered an inch from your throat.
You didn't blink.
Not because you weren't afraid, but because you were afraid to show it.
"Say something," the assassin hissed, their breath hot against your ear. "Tell me who you really are."
Your pulse thundered in your ears. You had no weapon, no guards, no protection. Only instinct—and a single name that could change everything.
"Leorian," you said. Quietly. Like it would shatter the air if spoken too loudly. "You work for Leorian."
The dagger twitched. The assassin stiffened.
"How do you know that name?" they growled.
You didn't answer. Instead, you looked them straight in the eye—black cloth masking their face, but the fear was visible. Not yours. Theirs.
You stepped forward slightly, pressing your throat against the dagger's edge. A test of resolve. A message.
"I know a lot more than you think."
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then—withdrawal. The blade vanished. The assassin vanished.
You stumbled back against the cold stone wall of the corridor, gasping, blood pounding in your skull. The entire palace wing was dark, empty. Only moonlight crept across the mosaic floors.
"Lord Kael!"
You turned to find Rae sprinting toward you, cloak flapping.
"I sensed something. Magic—residual shadow traces." She stopped, panting. "Are you hurt?"
"Not yet," you replied, still catching your breath. "But someone knows. They know I'm not the real Kael."
She froze. "Who?"
You stared into the darkened corridor, the air still humming with the tension of an assassin's failed kill. "Leorian."
Rae stepped back. "No. That's impossible. He's been banished—"
"He's back."
A long silence stretched between you. Rae looked shaken, truly shaken for the first time since you'd met her.
"If Leorian knows you're here," she whispered, "then it's not just your life at risk."
You nodded grimly. "He'll come after Lucian."
"And worse," Rae added. "He'll come after the throne."
You clenched your fists. The storm you'd been trying to outrun had finally caught up. You'd spent weeks navigating court politics, covering your identity, surviving ambushes. But now the real game was beginning.
You had to find Leorian before he moved first.
But even as you thought this, you knew—
Leorian had already started.
By dawn, the palace was on alert.
You stood at the window of your chambers, watching soldiers quietly reposition throughout the courtyards. Not a full lockdown—too suspicious—but there were more eyes than ever. Silent tension clung to every corridor.
Rae sat on the couch, her legs crossed, flipping through a book that doubled as a magical encryptor. "The assassin was a Mistblade," she said, not looking up. "Only a few still exist. They're relics from the old royal order, sworn to silence and shadows."
"Which means they don't work for coin," you replied. "They work for power."
"Or loyalty." She glanced at you now. "To Leorian. Or worse… to someone in the palace still loyal to him."
You said nothing, but your mind was racing.
Leorian. The disgraced prince. The one who was supposed to be dead.
You had read his file when you first awoke in this world—he was Kael's elder half-brother, exiled for high treason and stripped of royal blood rights. Except… the details were vague. Too vague.
"Tell me everything," you said to Rae. "What happened to him, really?"
She hesitated. Closed the book.
"Leorian wasn't just exiled. He was sacrificed."
You blinked. "What?"
"The old king—your father—used ancient law to seal Leorian's magic. It cost a human life. His closest companion. A blood-bound rite. That kind of magic… it doesn't erase power. It twists it. And Leorian didn't die. He changed."
You sat down slowly, processing her words.
"Lucian doesn't know," she added. "He was still a child."
Of course he didn't. You'd shielded him from that. Or… Kael had. You were still grasping the threads of a past not entirely your own.
A knock interrupted the moment. Sharp. Clean.
"Enter," you called.
A messenger bowed deeply. "Your presence is requested at the Chamber of Mirrors, my lord. A private audience with Queen Elira."
You frowned. "The Queen? Now?"
"Yes, my lord. She said, 'Bring me the wolf in borrowed skin.'"
Your blood chilled.
Rae stood up instantly. "That's not a phrase she would use."
"I know," you murmured. "It's a trap."
But you had no choice.
The Chamber of Mirrors was empty.
Cold light danced across the floor, reflected infinitely by the crystal walls. Every step echoed with glassy grace. You walked slowly, alert. No guards. No attendants. Just you—and your reflection staring back in a thousand forms.
Then one reflection blinked.
Yours did not.
You spun just in time.
A blur moved, fast—too fast. You blocked, barely, catching the attacker's blade with the side of your armguard.
Then another flash—and a second figure stepped from the mirror.
Not Elira.
Not Leorian.
Lucian.
But something was wrong.
His eyes were too calm. His smile too still.
"Brother," he said softly.
You didn't lower your guard. "What are you doing here?"
Lucian tilted his head.
"Waking up."
A pulse of black magic exploded from his chest.
Your eyes widened.
This wasn't your brother.
The sky darkened quickly, like a film reel skipping scenes. Clouds gathered, thick and weighty with an unnatural stillness. The streets of Ecran's lower ring had emptied. Vendors closed shop early. Lanterns that usually burned until midnight flickered out one by one.
Kai stood still, breath fogging as he looked down the cracked alleyway in Sector 4. The air was colder here—not from climate, but from something older. Something... watching.
"You're sure this is where she went?" he asked.
Beside him, Noa adjusted the setting on her wrist mod, scanning residual energy trails. "Her signal cut off here. Abruptly. Like something jammed it, or—"
"Or someone grabbed her."
Noa's lips thinned. "Possibly."
They moved in silence now, only the wet splash of boots against grime-covered puddles marking their advance. Kai kept one hand on the hilt of his shockblade, the other brushing the wall—checking for markings. Messages. Traps.
The silence shattered.
Not with noise, but with a sudden shift in pressure. Like the world inhaled and refused to exhale. Noa stumbled, nearly hitting the wall as her wrist mod sparked. "EMP—no, something... different. Organic."
"Kai," she whispered.
He didn't answer. His body was rigid, eyes locked ahead. In the dead-end of the alley stood a figure.
Not cloaked.
Not armored.
Just standing. A girl. Long black hair. Barefoot.
It was her.
Nyra.
But her eyes were... hollow. Black voids. Her mouth opened slowly, unnaturally wide.
"Kai?" Noa's voice wavered.
Nyra stepped forward.
"Noa, back away slowly."
But Noa didn't move.
Because something behind Kai had moved.
He turned. Slowly.
Another figure.
This one wore the same cloak as the assassin from the scrapyard—but this time, its face wasn't hidden. It was metallic. A half-human, half-synthetic face. A familiar one.
His heart dropped.
"…Ezren?"
The cloaked figure said nothing. Only raised a finger and pointed toward Kai.
A whisper slithered through the air—distorted, like a chorus of broken speakers:
"You shouldn't have come back."
Suddenly, Nyra screamed—not from her throat, but from everywhere. The air. The shadows. The metal.
Noa fell to her knees, clutching her ears. Kai lunged, grabbing her, trying to pull her up—
But it was too late.
The ground beneath them opened like a mouth.
Swallowing them whole.
Darkness.
Not like closing your eyes—but absolute nothingness. A void without air, light, or up and down.
Then—impact.
Kai landed hard, the breath knocked out of him. He rolled, groaning, trying to find his bearings. His fingers scraped against smooth glass—no, crystal? The floor was unlike anything he'd ever touched. Cold. Alive. Pulsing faintly with light beneath its surface.
"Noa!" he shouted.
A few meters away, she coughed, her voice weak. "I'm okay… I think…"
As she sat up, the glowing floor lit up brighter, revealing their surroundings.
They were in a chamber—vast and dome-shaped, lined with towering obelisks that curved toward the ceiling like claws. At the center stood a circular pedestal, humming with violet energy.
Suspended above it—
Nyra.
Still.
Eyes closed.
But this time… her body floated, not like she was held by wires or gravity—but willed to remain there.
Kai's chest ached. "Nyra…"
"She's not in control," Noa whispered, stepping beside him.
"She's the conduit."
A voice echoed from the far end of the chamber.
They turned.
Ezren stepped forward—unmasked. His face was older than Kai remembered. Half-machine, half-man… and beneath the metallic exterior, regret etched deep in his expression.
"You should have left her buried," Ezren said.
Kai's hands curled into fists. "You knew. You knew she was alive down here."
"I didn't bury her to kill her," Ezren replied quietly. "I buried her to contain her."
Noa's voice cracked. "Contain… what?"
Ezren pointed up at Nyra.
"Not what. Who."
Then the walls began to shake.
Pulses of black mist leaked from the base of each obelisk, writhing upward like smoke with teeth. The crystal pedestal trembled. Nyra's head snapped up—eyes glowing violet, her voice not her own.
"He is awakening."
Ezren backed away, horror plain in his eyes.
"We're too late," he muttered.
Kai stepped forward. "Who is—?"
The ceiling cracked. The chamber rumbled.
A shadow spread across the dome, massive and growing—like a god stretching after centuries of slumber.
Nyra spoke again, voice layered with a second—deeper, ancient and foreign:
"The Hollow Sovereign rises."
And then—
The obelisks exploded.
Black tendrils shot toward Kai, Noa, and Ezren—
And everything went white.