The Obsidian Keep loomed like a black monolith against the crimson sky. Inside, the Shadow Legion returned from the wasteland, their armor scratched and scorched, their movements subdued under the weight of failure.
General Kaelith stood at the center of the war chamber, arms crossed, eyes burning like molten steel. He did not flinch as the scouts and soldiers filed in, their faces pale with exhaustion and disbelief.
"Report," Kaelith commanded, his voice low, sharp, and filled with authority.
The lead scout bowed deeply. "General… the boy's power is unlike anything we have faced. He… he controlled his light. He struck with precision, defended with skill… we could not breach his defenses. Our soldiers were scattered."
Kaelith's jaw tightened. "Scattered? Only scattered? Your words betray fear. Fear is weakness. Weakness cannot succeed. You will not speak of the boy as if he is invincible. He is mortal!"
"Yes… General," the scout whispered, bowing further.
Kaelith's gaze swept the room like a blade. "Mortal, yes. But dangerous. And dangerous deserves respect — in strategy, not in hesitation. If we strike as we did, we will fail again. And next time, failure is unacceptable."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on every soldier. Only the whisper of the wind against the high towers broke the stillness.
Kaelith moved toward the map table, tracing the boy's last known locations with a gloved finger. "The cursed star child is learning, growing stronger with each passing day. We underestimated him before. We will not do so again."
Another scout, braver or perhaps more desperate than the first, spoke up. "General… if we increase the force, use magical traps and coordinate with multiple squads, we may overwhelm him…"
Kaelith turned sharply, eyes like daggers. "You suggest using brute force and tricks? Do you not see? That is exactly what the boy expects. He anticipates raw attacks. We must strike differently — strategically, subtly, without warning. We strike at weakness, not at strength."
The scouts nodded, understanding the gravity of his instructions. Kaelith's mind was already working, calculating every possibility. The boy's powers were growing too fast; direct confrontation alone would no longer suffice.
He leaned over the map, tracing the wasteland, the ridges, cliffs, and canyons where Kael had trained. "We will divide our forces. Scouts will continue surveillance, but only to herd him toward prepared positions. Elite units, combined with magical restraints, will lie in wait. He will be trapped, and when he is weakest, we strike."
A hush fell over the room. Even the most seasoned soldiers could sense the danger in Kaelith's plan — a danger not just to the boy, but to themselves if they failed.
Kaelith straightened, voice cold and final. "The boy may have control now, but he is young, untested. Every power has its limits, every mark its cost. We will find it. We will exploit it. And when we do… he will belong to the king, or he will die trying."
The scouts and soldiers bowed, their fear tempered by duty. Kaelith's strategy was meticulous, precise, and terrifying. Failure was no longer an option.
Outside the keep, the wind carried faint echoes of silver light from the distant wasteland. Somewhere out there, the cursed star child trained, unaware of the meticulous trap being woven around him.
Kaelith watched the maps one last time, his face unreadable. "The hunt continues," he whispered. "And this time, the prey will not escape."
The Shadow Legion dispersed to prepare. Shadows moved like smoke through the halls, black armor clanking softly against stone. Every squad, every spell, every plan was in motion.
Kaelith's eyes lingered on the horizon where the boy lived, his hands resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. The cursed star child was growing stronger — but so was Kaelith's resolve.
And when the storm came again, it would be far more deadly.