Kael Ardent woke up drowning in blood.
Not his own—though that would've been a mercy. The liquid was black, viscous, and it screamed. Every drop that touched his skin whispered names he didn't know, places he'd never seen, and sins he couldn't have committed. He thrashed, gasping, clawing at the darkness until his fingers found stone—cold, jagged, and real.
He pulled himself up.
The world that greeted him was wrong.
Towering obsidian pillars stretched into a sky that wasn't a sky at all—just an endless void punctured by crimson stars that pulsed like dying hearts. The ground beneath him was cracked marble, veined with what looked like frozen lightning. In the distance, massive silhouettes moved—things too large to be animals, too deliberate to be natural.
Kael's breath came in ragged bursts. His hands—his hands—were wrong. Pale, clawed, covered in intricate black markings that shifted across his skin like living tattoos. He staggered to his feet, looking down at a body that wasn't his.
Taller. Leaner. Stronger.
What the hell happened?
"Finally awake, are we?"
The voice came from inside his skull.
Kael spun around, searching for the source, but found only emptiness. His heart—if this body even had one—hammered against his ribs.
"Relax, human. You're not going insane. Well, not yet."
"Who—" Kael's voice came out wrong. Deeper. Resonant. It carried an echo that made the air itself tremble. "Who are you? What are you?"
A pause. Then, something that might've been a laugh.
"I'm Falshaar. And you, Kael Ardent, are wearing my body."
---
Kael's legs gave out.
He crashed to his knees, hands slamming against the marble. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing across the surface, and he stared at his palms—Falshaar's palms—in horror.
"This isn't real. This is a dream. I was—I was walking home, there was a man in the alley, he looked at me, and then—"
"And then we swapped." Falshaar's voice was calm, almost clinical. "You got my body. I got yours. Congratulations—you're now the most wanted criminal in seven kingdoms."
"What?"
"You heard me. I killed a king. Well, technically, you killed a king now. The Ark-Lord of Ruin, to be precise. His death sent shockwaves through the Abyssal Threads. Every bounty hunter, assassin, and warlord in the Jinn Dominion is looking for this body." A beat. "Looking for you."
Kael's mind reeled. Kings. Jinn. Dominion. None of it made sense, but the terror in his gut told him it was real.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you do this?"
"Because I was dying." For the first time, Falshaar's voice carried weight—something that might've been regret. "The king's final strike would've killed me in minutes. I needed a vessel. You were... convenient."
"Convenient?" Kael's hands clenched into fists. "You stole my life!"
"And gave you mine. Whether you want it or not."
Before Kael could respond, the air shifted.
It was subtle—a pressure change, like the moment before lightning strikes. The crimson stars above flickered, and the distant silhouettes stopped moving.
Everything went silent.
"Oh, wonderful." Falshaar's tone turned sharp. "We have company."
"What—"
The marble beneath Kael exploded.
A figure erupted from the ground—tall, wrapped in tattered black robes that billowed without wind. Its face was hidden behind a featureless silver mask, but Kael could feel its gaze. Cold. Predatory. Absolute.
The figure raised one hand, and reality bent.
The air around Kael's throat compressed. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. His vision blurred as invisible fingers tightened around his windpipe.
"Listen very carefully," Falshaar hissed. "That's a Wraith-Bound—a king's executioner. If you don't fight back right now, you're dead."
"I—can't—"
"You can. My body responds to intent. Stop thinking like a human. Will yourself free."
Kael's lungs burned. Black spots danced across his vision. But somewhere, beneath the panic, something else stirred—a heat that started in his chest and spread like wildfire.
I will not die here.
The thought was a command, and the body obeyed.
Power surged through Kael's veins—raw, violent, and hungry. The markings on his arms flared crimson, and the invisible grip shattered. He gasped, air flooding his lungs as he stumbled back.
The Wraith-Bound tilted its head, almost curious.
Then it attacked.
The figure moved faster than Kael's eyes could track. One moment it was ten feet away; the next, its clawed hand was inches from his throat. Kael's body reacted on instinct—sidestepping, his arm coming up in a block that sent a shockwave through the marble.
The Wraith-Bound didn't stop. It spun, launching a kick that would've shattered bone. Kael barely twisted out of the way, feeling the wind from the strike tear past his cheek.
"Good! Now stop defending and attack!"
Kael didn't think. He moved.
His fist shot forward, and the markings on his knuckles ignited. Black flames erupted from his hand, wrapping around his arm like a serpent. The punch connected with the Wraith-Bound's chest, and the impact was cataclysmic.
The figure flew backward, crashing through three obsidian pillars before slamming into the ground. The marble cracked beneath it, spider-webbing out for dozens of feet.
Kael stood there, trembling, staring at his smoking fist.
"What... what was that?"
"That," Falshaar said, satisfaction bleeding into his tone, "was the Void Flame. One of this body's many gifts. Congratulations, Kael—you just survived your first thirty seconds in the Jinn Dominion."
The Wraith-Bound rose.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Its robes were scorched, its mask cracked down the middle. But it didn't falter. Instead, it reached up and pulled the mask away.
Kael's blood turned to ice.
There was no face underneath.
Just an endless void—a swirling darkness filled with screaming stars.
The Wraith-Bound spoke, and its voice was the sound of collapsing mountains:
"Falshaar the Black Oath. You are summoned before the Court of Seven. Refuse, and I will drag your soul through the Abyss itself."
Kael opened his mouth to respond—
—but the world shattered.
The ground beneath him gave way, and he fell into darkness, the Wraith-Bound's words echoing in his mind:
"The kings are waiting."