The wind howled across the fractured temple ruins like the mournful cry of something long forgotten. Ash drifted through the broken columns, soft as snow but black like death. The fire they'd made earlier had dulled to embers, glowing faintly in the pit at the center of the circle.
Everyone was asleep—except for the shadows. Kael stirred first.
His back arched slightly as if something pulled at his spine. His breath hitched. His fists clenched. Slowly, he sat up, eyes wide open but… wrong. His irises were gone.
Only pure white light remained, like glass filled with lightning.
Without a sound, Kael stood.
He moved toward the tactical bag Lilu had tucked beside her like a teddy bear. She didn't stir. He knelt silently, unwrapped the cloth, and lifted the sword.
The dull, rusted blade shimmered—just for him. The steel vibrated in his palm.
It whispered.
Words, ancient and forgotten, slipped into his mind like silk soaked in poison.
He turned toward the wall—the same one he'd cracked days ago with a punch.
As he walked, the sword seemed to hum with low, unearthly sound. The temple's air grew thick. Time slowed. Kael raised the blade, pointed it toward the broken inscription, and began to speak.
"A'threl doro… kin sael ranthok… Vorin das raaaak."
His voice was not his own. It echoed in tones too deep and layered to belong to a human. A chant more ancient than dust. The language of spirits.
Behind him, Riven jerked awake, reaching for his blade.
"Kael?" No response.
Riven stood, heart pounding. "Kael! Hey!"
That shout woke the others.
Zayn rolled up, grabbing his gun. Lilu blinked in confusion, rubbing her eyes. Nyra didn't move at first—she just opened one eye, watching, calculating.
Kael's chant continued, louder now.
Suddenly— A streak of golden light shot out from the wall.
The ancient letters burned with brilliance. Then the air in front of Kael tore open—like silk being split—revealing a man made of gold and fire.
He hovered a foot above the ground.
Magnificent. Divine. His body shimmered like liquid metal, eyes white-hot with light. Though clearly spirit, he carried presence—everyone felt it like pressure in their chest.
His voice boomed, calm and vast. But before anyone could speak, Kael collapsed, the sword slipping from his hands with a metallic clang.
"KAEL!" Lilu screamed, rushing forward.
"Get back!" Zayn shouted, raising his weapon.
"Don't—!" Riven grabbed Zayn's wrist, holding him back.
They reached Kael together, huddled over his body. He was breathing— but limp. Cold sweat drenched his forehead.
"He's burning up," Nyra murmured, touching his pulse.
The golden man raised a hand.
"Let him be." His voice rippled through their bones.
"He is not broken. Merely touched. He heard the call. And answered."
Zayn clenched his fists. "What the hell are you?"
The figure turned, his golden face smooth, expression unreadable.
"A memory. A remnant. A guardian bound to the truth you now pursue."
Riven narrowed his eyes. "That sword did this."
"The sword is a key. A test. A legacy of power forged by hands older than this realm.
"Lilu looked up, wide-eyed. "You mean the sword… it chose Kael?"
"No," the figure said. "Not yet. But it recognized the crack in him—just enough to reach through."
Nyra's voice was quiet. Cold. "And what would it have done if he wasn't strong enough to come back?"
The golden man's glow dimmed. "Then he would have joined the others who failed."
A long silence.
Then Kael stirred. His eyes fluttered open—normal again. He gasped like someone waking from drowning. Zayn and Riven helped him sit up.
"I… I saw him," Kael whispered. "Who?" Riven asked.
"The man of gold," Kael whispered. "He… he was standing in the heart of darkness. And the sword was light. It wasn't rusted. It was… burning."
The golden figure stepped forward.
"This sword was not made to slay. It was forged to seal. It contains within it the strength to bind the nine realms—and the madness that waits within."
Everyone looked to the blade now lying motionless on the floor.
Rusty. Quiet. Zayn picked it up carefully, staring at the nine empty holes like eyes that watched him.
The golden man's gaze scanned the group, one by one.
"You do not yet understand what you hold. But the path forward has begun."
A low rumble echoed through the temple. The ground vibrated subtly. Outside, the wind grew louder.
"Be ready," the figure said, voice growing faint. "The eyes of Rashkaa turn now toward you. And the sword… is no longer sleeping." With that, the figure vanished in a shimmer of gold mist.
Only silence remained. No one moved for a long moment.
Kael looked up at the others. "I think… I think we've started something we can't walk away from."
Nyra stood slowly. "We never could."
Zayn exhaled deeply, staring at the sword once more.
"Then we walk straight into it." And outside, far on the horizon, a black storm began to form.