Kael didn't feel like a victor.
As he stood atop the smoldering remains of the ridge, the wind pulled at his tattered cloak, carrying the scent of ozone and something far older bitter, like ancient copper.
Below him, the valley was a graveyard of silent machinery and broken banners.
He looked down at his hands.
They were steady, but the faint glow of the Aether-veins beneath his skin hadn't receded.
If anything, they were pulsing faster now, reacting to the void left by the fallen Commander.
The "Reckoning" was supposed to be the end of the tyranny, yet Kael felt a cold dread settling in his gut.
He had removed a monster, only to realize he had been standing in front of a much larger cage.
"Kael!"
A voice broke through the ringing in his ears. It was Jax, limping through the debris, his face masked in soot but his eyes wide with a frantic sort of relief.
"We did it. The primary core is dark. The soldiers are throwing down their steel."
Kael didn't turn. "They aren't surrendering, Jax.
They're waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For the next command." Kael finally looked at his friend.
The exhaustion on Jax's face was profound, but Kael saw the reflection of the valley in Jax's eyes and it was wrong. The shadows weren't stretching away from the setting sun; they were pooling toward the center of the battlefield, toward the spot where the Commander had fallen.
"The Reckoning wasn't an execution," Kael whispered, the realization chilling his blood. "It was a ritual. We didn't stop the machine... we fueled it."