The battlefield burned.
Ash and smoke choked the sky, blotting out the moon. Corpses lay scattered across the broken earth—knights and sorcerers alike, their blood seeping into the mud. The banners of a hundred legions smoldered in the night wind, their colors drowned in fire.
At the center of it all knelt Kael Draven, the Sorcerer General, feared and revered across kingdoms. His cloak was in tatters, his armor shattered, his body pierced by wounds—but his eyes still glowed with cold, unyielding resolve.
He had given everything for victory. And yet—
A shadow stepped out of the smoke.
"Darius," Kael rasped, his voice hoarse. "So you've come."
Darius Kaelthorn, his sworn brother-in-arms, his most trusted companion through countless wars. The man who had sworn oaths beside him, shed blood beside him, carved empires beside him.
Now he stood with blade in hand, its edge gleaming with betrayal.
"You should have seen this, Kael," Darius said, his tone almost gentle. "The world was never yours to claim."
Kael's lips curled into a bitter smile. "And you think it's yours? Or did the gods whisper in your ear and promise you a crown?"
Darius's silence was answer enough.
The sword plunged into Kael's chest, driving through his heart. Agony tore through him, hot and blinding. He gasped, blood spilling across his lips, yet his hand still tried to weave a spell. It was futile—his strength was gone.
Darius leaned close, twisting the blade. "History will forget you. You'll fade into dust, and I will stand where you could not."
Kael's laugh was ragged, but it carried across the dying field like thunder.
"Forget me?" His silver eyes blazed with defiance even as his life drained away. "No, Darius. Not in this world, nor the next. Even if the gods conspire against me—I will return. Stronger. Hungrier. And when I rise again… the world will remember the name Kael Draven."
Darius wrenched the blade free, but the triumph on his face faltered.
Something stirred.
From Kael's dying body, a spark of light erupted—blinding, searing, not of mortal origin. Divine essence wrapped around his soul, tearing it free from flesh. Chains shattered, unseen laws broke, and his spirit was pulled into the void beyond stars.
The battlefield vanished.
Kael Draven fell through darkness, yet he did not fall alone. Voices whispered, ancient and cruel, weaving threads of fate around him. Among them, one voice lingered, cold as the abyss itself.
"Rise again, Sovereign. Your war has only begun."
And then—silence.
The life of Kael Draven ended.
The life of Ardyn Veyra began.