The underground sanctum of the witches pulsed with quiet magic, its walls carved from obsidian and veined with glowing runes. The scent of blood and burnt ozone still lingered in the air. Dain lay on a stone altar, his leg in a glowing cast of emerald light. Beside him, Brad groaned, a blood-soaked bandage around his head. Orin and Valen rested under thick furs, their wounds slowly knitting with every chant from the witches.
Elizabeth stood in the center of it all, her arms folded, wings folded tight against her back. Her eyes were glowing slits of fury. The defeat still burned in her bones.
"I should have killed him," she muttered.
"You couldn't," said one of the younger witches, setting down a bowl of molten herbs near Jacob. "He's a god, not a brute."
"I am a goddess," Elizabeth snapped. "And I won't lose again."
Before anyone could reply, the air shimmered. A tear in reality opened in a silent flash, and out stepped a cloaked witch—followed by Kol Vaelros.
He looked unchanged, but there was something darker in his eyes. His presence silenced the room.
Kol looked around—taking in the battered forms of his family. Jacob unconscious. Brad broken. Orin and Valen injured. And Elizabeth, furious and fuming.
"What happened?" he asked, voice cold and low, though the witches had already told him.
The elder witch, a withered woman wrapped in layered gray-green robes, stepped forward. "Three gods descended. Chaziel. Ruhamiel. Evanoriel. They came for Lisa—Elyndra—and they took her."
Kol's hands tightened into fists. The floor beneath him cracked from the strain of his dark lightning.
"Are you ready to face them?" Elizabeth asked, stepping forward, her sabers flaring to life at her sides. "Because I am."
Kol didn't answer. His aura crackled with fury. But just as he began to take a step, the elder witch raised a hand and blocked his path.
"No," she said sharply. "Even with your power, Kol Vaelros… you cannot fight the heavens alone. All ten gods"
Kol's eyes narrowed. "You think I'll let them take her?"
"I think," the elder witch said, meeting his gaze, "that even the Devil himself needed armies. This is no longer a battle—it is war. You must unite the realms. This is your destiny."
There was silence for a long moment. Then Kol asked, "Where do we start?"
Elizabeth answered for him.
"The Demon Realm."
The Demon Realm had changed. Once chaotic and bleeding with endless fire, it now stood partially rebuilt. A scarred land stitched together with uneasy alliances and crumbling power. But no true king had claimed the realm—not since Kol had killed Owen.
Now, after centuries there was a new ruler: King Leo, a demon-blooded warlord who'd seized power.
Kol stood at the gates of the Black Citadel, flanked by Elizabeth, Dain, Orin, and Valen. The guards looked upon him with disdain. Whispers spread through the crowd like smoke.
"That's him…"
"The Betrayer…"
The great gates opened, revealing the throne room of obsidian and bone. At the far end sat Leo, massive and adorned in armor made of scorched horns and crimson flame. His eyes locked with Kol's.
"You dare show your face here," Leo growled, rising. "After what you did? You left this realm in ruin, let the blood spill and the clans fight."
"I didn't come to reclaim a throne," Kol replied. "I came to unite us. War is coming."
Leo stepped down from his throne, power thrumming through his body. "you want to unite us? You who caused the death of many. You killed Owen and left us to be purged, enslaved by witches. You deserve nothing but death."
Dain clenched his fists, but Elizabeth raised a hand, stopping him.
Kol didn't blink. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm offering you a place in the last stand of this world."
Leo grinned, tusks bared. "Then let's see if you're still worthy to lead us."
He leapt forward, his flaming sword materializing in his grip, cutting through the air with a roar.
Kol didn't flinch. His black lightning began to crackle around him.
The throne room exploded into chaos.