The wind outside the Vault howled like a dirge.
Kael stepped from the dark with Ashrend and Duskrend crossed upon his back, the twin blades humming like a pair of opposing hearts—one steady and warm, the other wild and cold. His cloak snapped in the cold air as the others followed close behind, each bearing the weight of what they had just witnessed.
"Two blades," Darric muttered. "Is that even allowed?"
Kael gave him a sideways glance. "Wasn't asking permission."
They descended from the mountain path toward the ruined sanctum of Hollowrest—a once-sacred site of the old Order, now little more than broken towers and stone bones. It was here Kael had agreed to meet the surviving Flamebound scouts. It was also where the next confrontation would strike.
And they all felt it coming.
The moment their boots hit the cracked stone courtyard of Hollowrest, three silhouettes emerged from the fog. Scouts—battle-worn and ash-streaked—clad in Flamebound cloaks.
The leader, a woman with silver scars across her cheek and a halberd slung over her shoulder, stepped forward.
"Kael Rivenhart," she said. "You came."
"I gave my word," he replied.
She nodded, then looked at the blades on his back. "And I see you've found more than we dared hope."
"More than you can imagine," Lyra murmured.
But the reunion was short-lived.
A horn blared from the far side of the ruins—deep, warped, unnatural.
The Veilspawn had arrived.
Dark shapes surged over the ruined walls—Veilspawn, lesser horrors laced in bone armor and twitching tendrils. Dozens, then hundreds, crawling like insects from beneath the earth and over the cliffs. Among them, towering a full story high, was a Veil Reaver, plated in obsidian and breathing fog that withered stone.
"They tracked us," Darric snarled. "Of course they did."
Kael unsheathed Ashrend with a flash of red fire.
Then he drew Duskrend—the blade answered with black lightning and a banshee wail that shook the skies.
"Positions," Kael ordered. "Lyra, take the eastern rise. Darric, hold the southern breach. Flamebound—cover the civilians. I'll take the gate."
And he moved.
Like a storm in human form.
The first wave of Veilspawn met Kael at the gate—and died within seconds.
He spun with both blades in hand, Ashrend carving arcs of searing flame, while Duskrend cleaved with jagged, cursed might.
"Crimson Fang!" Kael roared—Ashrend burst with red flame as he cut through a trio of beasts.
"Duskrend Howl!" With a backhand swing, the black blade screamed and shattered the armor of a charging brute, exploding it into ichor.
Veilspawn fell like ash in a storm. Each strike carried echoes of ancient Sovereigns, power that did not belong to this age—but Kael wielded it like a man born to it.
Above, Lyra's arrows whistled, striking eyes and joints with flawless grace.
Darric roared as he met the Veil Reaver head-on, shield glowing with arcane sigils.
But the enemy numbers grew.
"They won't stop," one Flamebound scout cried. "There's no end to them—"
"Then we finish this before the end comes," Kael snarled.
Kael stepped into the heart of the swarm.
He sheathed Ashrend.
Raised Duskrend to the storming sky.
"You were made to burn kings," he whispered.
The Mark on his chest blazed open, runes igniting across his arms, throat, and back. The skies above Hollowrest split with red-black lightning.
"Vowbreaker Eclipse!"
Duskrend came down like the judgment of a god.
A shockwave of annihilation spread in all directions, obliterating every Veilspawn within fifty yards—twisting them into smoke and silence.
When the light faded, Kael stood alone at the center, breathing heavy, surrounded by scorched ruin.
Silence fell.
Then the Flamebound cheered.
Even Darric couldn't hide his grin. "Showoff."
Lyra dropped beside Kael from the ruined wall, her expression unreadable.
"That power…" she said softly. "How much more are you hiding?"
Kael didn't answer right away. He stared at Duskrend—its edge steaming with soul-heat.
"Enough," he finally said. "But we'll need it all."