Vael stood in a dead sky.No stars. No wind. Just ash.
He wasn't alone.Figures moved in the dark—flickering shapes.
They didn't breathe.They watched.
One stepped forward.Tall, faceless, draped in smoke.
"You wear it now," it said.Its voice came from everywhere.
"The cursed thing," Vael replied.His throat felt dry.
The figure turned.More shapes appeared.
A battlefield stretched before them.Broken bodies. Burning skies. Screams without sound.
Vael saw himself.Kneeling, blood-soaked, laughing.
Then it changed.The same him—chained, hollow-eyed, weeping.
"You become what you feed," the voice said."You feed on pain."
Vael tried to speak—But the crown burned on his head.
He fell.
The vision twisted.Now a throne of rusted bone.
A man sat on it.Eyes black, crown shattered.
Nyra stood below him.Begging.
"Please... give it back..."
The man's laugh echoed like cracking ice."Once worn, it never leaves."
He crushed her soul.Shattered it into dust.
Vael screamed.But no sound came.
Then—Light cut through the dark.
Nyra appeared again.Younger. Whole.
She touched his shoulder.
"Now you've seen," she said."What I became."
He blinked.They were back in the chamber.
The chains were gone.Nyra knelt, weak but free.
"You saw him," she whispered."The one who came before."
"Who was he?" Vael asked."The first," she said. "The original sin."
Reylen looked shaken."The crown... has had many masters?"
Nyra nodded."All doomed. All used."
Vael stood silent.The whispers were quiet now.
"They want you next," Nyra said."But you're different. I hope."
The air grew cold.Stone cracked behind them.
A voice hissed from the dark."No more delays."
Reylen drew his blade.Vael didn't move.
He faced the black gate behind Nyra.And stepped toward it.
"I'm not running," he said."Let them come."