The duel began without another word. Thalyra swept her hands outward, calling a blizzard so dense the moonlight fractured into a million spinning shards. Snow ripped across the field like knives. Kaelin met it with a surge of wind and water, weaving them together until a spiraling wall of ice rose in front of him. The impact rattled his bones, but the wall held, glowing faintly with the relic's power.
Then he launched forward. His armor flared with light, its crystalline edges unfolding into wing-like blades. The frost beneath his boots hardened and slickened, and with a burst of air, he skimmed across the ground faster than any mortal step could carry him.
Thalyra met him halfway, her own armor shimmering with ancient enchantments. Their strikes rang out like hammers against glass. Ice shattered and reformed in a heartbeat, each blow sending ripples through the frozen earth. She tried to lock his limbs in pillars of ice, but Kaelin shattered them with arcs of water that froze into lances mid-flight.
The sky above began to twist. The wind howled in a rising pitch, and snow spun into a massive ring overhead. Kaelin could feel the storm inside him answering the one in the sky. He reached deeper, past the anger, past the betrayal, into the memory of those who still waited for freedom in other Guild strongholds. Their faces steadied his hands.
With a sharp breath, he drew the power of both ice and wind together. The ring of snow overhead collapsed into a swirling typhoon, descending toward the ground. Lightning flashed through its heart, but instead of heat, each strike carried the bite of pure frost.
Thalyra fought to push it back, her own blizzard colliding with his storm, but the relic's will pressed through him like a living force. His armor extended, its wing-like shapes lifting him into the air, and from above, he drove the typhoon straight into her.
The impact flung her across the steps. Her armor cracked, her crown falling and vanishing into the snow. She struggled to rise, frost creeping over her limbs. Kaelin landed before her, his breath misting in the pale moonlight.
"It's over," he said quietly.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind, carrying away the last of her storm. Then her head bowed, and the fight was gone from her. Behind Kaelin, his army's roar split the night, echoing across the tundra like the birth of a new season.
...
Snow still drifted across the steps where Thalyra had fallen. The cold moonlight clung to the shattered crown at Kaelin's feet, its silver arcs now dulled by frost. He looked down at her, chest rising and falling slowly. Her eyes, once sharp as ice, were empty now. She said nothing as his soldiers took her away, bound in chains of frozen water that shimmered with the relic's light.
The gates of the city stood before him, tall spires of stone carved with the sigils of her rule. Torches burned on the walls, casting long shadows across the frost-covered battlements. Behind him, the army of freed captives waited, their breaths fogging in the air, their weapons still glinting from the battle. Some had been prisoners for years. Some had lost families to the Guilds. All of them now looked at him.
He stepped forward. The massive gates groaned open, pushed by hands that once served Thalyra's will. The sound rolled through the night like the cracking of a glacier. Inside, the city streets were silent. People stood in doorways and along balconies, watching with wide eyes as Kaelin crossed the threshold. The storm that had raged during the duel was gone, leaving a brittle stillness.
As he walked, memories pressed in from every side. The alleys reminded him of the slums where he had grown up, scraping for food, hiding from Guild enforcers. The sight of the narrow bridges over frozen canals pulled back flashes of the Glacier Monastery, where he had learned to shape wind and water into a weapon. In the eyes of the people, he saw the same fear he had once carried.
When he reached the central square, he stopped before the great fountain. Once, it had flowed with crystal water drawn from the mountains, but now it was clogged with ice, the surface cracked and empty. Kaelin raised a hand. The frost relic pulsed, and the air thickened with power. Slowly, the ice broke apart, shards rising into the air like shattered glass. Water surged up from deep within the fountain's heart, swirling around him in a slow spiral. Then, with a single breath, he froze it again, shaping it into the form of the Aeryn crest — a soaring falcon with wings spread wide.
The crowd gasped. The symbol glimmered in the torchlight, casting reflections across the square.
"You are free," Kaelin said, his voice steady. "No Guild will chain you again. This city is yours, and I will guard it as the Tempest Heir."
A murmur swept through the crowd, growing into shouts, then into cheers. The sound echoed against the high walls, rolling up to the frozen moon above. His army raised their weapons in salute.
In that moment, Kaelin felt the weight of the title settle onto his shoulders. He was no longer the boy who had stolen bread to survive, nor the wanderer seeking scraps of power. He was the heir of a line that had once commanded storms and seas, and now, with the frost relic fused to his very soul, he could feel the elements bending to his will in ways he had never known before.
Above the city, clouds began to gather again. The wind stirred, carrying with it the scent of distant seas. A spiral of snow and mist curled upward, not as a storm of destruction, but as a crown of his own making. The frozen moon shone through it, a pale witness to the rebirth of a ruler.
The city knelt. And Kaelin, cold and unrelenting, claimed his place as the Tempest Heir.