Silence returned, but this time it was not empty.
It vibrated. It watched.Kael stepped slowly toward the wounded young woman, the black marks on his arm still pulsing—subtle, yet alive.She took a step back, the broken tip of her spear trembling between them.
Her hands were smeared with dried blood, her hair matted with sweat and dirt. But in her eyes... a stubborn flame remained.
— You... you're not a prisoner, are you? she whispered, her voice tight.— I am. But I am also something else, Kael replied calmly.
He stopped three paces from her. The air between them felt heavy, as if charged with invisible ashes.— What's your name?— …Lyssara. Knight of the 7th Guard of Sorane.
Kael tilted his head slightly. The name meant nothing to him. He'd never heard of a 7th Guard.— What exactly are you running from? he asked, without hostility.
She looked at him, wary but resolute.— Execution. I refused to kill a child. My superior branded me a traitor. I escaped. They hunted me here... to this damn tower.
She glanced around, trembling.— This place is cursed. Even the kingdom's mages do not enter it without escort. But I preferred that... to dying for unjust orders.
Kael said nothing at first. He simply watched her gestures, her breathing, the tension in her jaw.She was telling the truth.
— You did not choose exile. You chose to think, he said at last.
She raised an eyebrow.— And you? What did you choose exactly?
A heavier silence followed. Kael's eyes glowed with a strange light.— I was forgotten. Condemned for what I am. Not for what I did. So I decided... to build a world where no one will have to crawl to survive.
He extended his hand.— You can die here. Or walk with me. I promise neither justice, nor peace. Just... a cause.
She hesitated.— You don't even have a weapon.
Kael smiled.— The void is more loyal than any blade.
A rumble echoed. Far in the upper tunnels.
Heavy footsteps. Ordered.They were coming.Soldiers. The Black Unit of Sorane. The Executioners.
Lyssara paled.— They've tracked me down...
Kael turned toward the staircase.— Good. Every empire needs a beginning.
Minutes later, eight of them arrived. Heavy enchanted cuirasses. Armed with war axes and lightning-infused spears. Their captain wore a black iron crown—the mark of Sorane's Executioners.
— Kael Virell, fugitive of the sealed section. Surrender, or die here.
Kael stepped forward alone, hands behind his back.— Surrender what? My silence? My oblivion?
The captain signaled.A soldier charged.
Kael raised his hand.A black rift appeared in the air—thin as a hair, sharp as oblivion.
The soldier stopped cold. His body slid apart...
…and disintegrated.No blood. No cry.Just... the void.
The other soldiers instinctively recoiled.— You do not fight a man, Kael said. You fight what your masters wished to bury.
— Fire! the captain roared.
A rain of magical javelins burst forth.
Kael closed his eyes.The air twisted.A black wave surged from his body.
All the projectiles halted. Then… melted away as if they had never existed.
Lyssara watched, stunned.It was not magic.
Not a barrier.
It was the absence of law. The rejection of existence itself.
When he opened his eyes, Kael whispered:— Your names will not even be engraved.
He walked forward.And the shadow followed him.
Minutes later, eight bodies lay on the ground.
Or what remained of them. Some had simply vanished.
Lyssara, still trembling, stepped forward slowly.— What are you?
Kael turned to her. His gaze was calm. Dark. Unfathomable.— Not a hero. Not a god. Not a demon.
He walked toward the darkness of the next tunnel, then stopped.— I am the one who will write the end… to rebuild a beginning.
Lyssara hesitated... then followed him.Not as a servant.But as a survivor seeking meaning.