SOLMARIS RUINS—THE EDGE OF DECISION
The echo of the Fissure lingered in the air, even as the ground settled. Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something far more profound had shifted, something that no one could have predicted, not even himself. His gaze remained locked on the rift beneath the city, still wide open, pulsing with strange, forbidden energy.
A second Kael stood within it.
But it wasn't a mere reflection. It was something else entirely.
"Kael," Lyra's voice broke through his thoughts. She stepped closer, her Sunveil Feather gleaming faintly against the backdrop of the shattered city. The light in her aura was dim, yet there was a quiet strength in the way she moved, unbowed despite the toll the battles had taken on her body.
He didn't respond at first. His eyes still traced the distorted edges of the Fissure, where the very fabric of reality had torn open. It was like staring at the abyss and seeing pieces of his past, his future, and every choice in between.
"You're not alone in this," she continued, her voice steady. "We can face whatever comes together."
Kael's gaze flickered briefly to her, but he didn't meet her eyes. "This isn't about being together anymore. The world… the world isn't the same."
Lyra fell silent. Her words, once so full of hope and certainty, seemed hollow now, lost in the winds of a world that had forgotten its purpose.
Kael's hand clenched around the hilt of Ashenflame. The blade's power surged to life with a faint hum, as though it, too, felt the stirring of something greater in the air. The Crownless Core at his chest pulsed again, and the familiar resonance of the System's prompt appeared, hovering like a phantom before him.
[ASHEN ARCHITECT: You have seen the choices. The first has been made.] [NEW PATH: FLAMEWALKER—Guide, but never control.]
Kael exhaled slowly, the weight of the prompt pressing down on him. He couldn't help but wonder if the choice had already been made for him. The Fissure was not just a tear in space—it was a manifestation of everything he'd been through, everything he was, everything he could be.
A path ahead, one he hadn't asked for, but one that called to him nonetheless.
"You can't control what's happening anymore," Kael muttered to himself, though the words were meant for more than just his own ears. "Not the people, not the world... not even the Fissures. But I can guide them. I can help them choose."
EMBERDEEP—THE WYRMKIN ACCORD
In the heart of Emberdeep, Drayke Norr was still grappling with the chaos unfolding across Aurenya. The Wyrmkin Accord, once a loosely organized alliance of beast-aura users, had turned into something far more dangerous—a growing, feverish faction that worshipped Kael as some kind of divine being.
The fervor of the Wyrmkin was unsettling. They saw Kael not as a friend or a leader, but as an ideal. A myth.
But Drayke knew better.
"Drayke, we've got a problem," one of the commanders said, stepping into the war room, his face drawn tight with concern. "The Accord is growing too fast. They're getting more radical every day."
Drayke's hand tightened around his gauntlet. "What do you mean?"
"They're starting to demand sacrifices. They believe Kael is their salvation—their final evolution. They think he's the one who can transcend the System itself."
Drayke's brow furrowed, his thoughts darkening. "This isn't Kael's vision. He doesn't want to be worshipped. He never did."
The commander nodded. "I know. But the Wyrmkin aren't listening to reason anymore. And with the Fissures opening... the power's slipping from our hands. If we can't control them now, they'll tear the whole world apart."
Drayke stood, his gaze hardening. "Then we stop them, before they do something we can't undo."
LIRAEL'S DIVIDE—VEYL SOLANE
Veyl Solane stood atop the shattered cliff, the weight of her thoughts heavier than the broken land beneath her feet. The world had changed—and not for the better.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the distant, roiling horizon, where the sky seemed to crack open at the seams. Her armor, dull and battered from the countless battles, still clung to her form. The claw marks from the ancient beast that had nearly claimed her life had not yet healed, their jagged edges a reminder of what she'd survived.
Zera Vaelith, the enigmatic figure she had once called ally, had made her move.
The courier's words echoed in Veyl's mind. Zera had unlocked the Arcveil Temple. Alone.
Veyl turned to face the courier, a deep unease settling within her chest. "Is she truly alone?"
The courier nodded, his eyes wide with worry. "She says it's necessary."
Veyl's eyes grew cold. "Then we're already too late."
ARCVEIL TEMPLE—ZERA VAELITH
Inside the Arcveil Temple, Zera moved with purpose, her every step echoing in the empty, hallowed halls. The once-vibrant chimes of the bells had long since faded, their sound silenced by the corruption that had seeped into the temple's very bones. Her Cursed Mist hung heavy around her like a veil, undisturbed by the stillness that surrounded her.
The Wraith Bell she carried was cracked, its resonating power flickering and dimming with every passing moment. But even in its broken state, the bell had shown her the truth—Kael's choice was not yet made. The world hung in the balance, and she knew that whichever path Kael chose would alter the course of history.
She stood before the ancient mirror within the temple, the surface shimmering with an ethereal light. This was no ordinary mirror, but a portal to the past and future—a window into the memory of everything that had come before.
In the reflection, she saw Kael. A boy, his face bloodied, his eyes distant, staring up at the stars as though they owed him an answer. He was the same boy she had once seen, the one who had fought, bled, and grown stronger with every trial.
But the mirror showed more than just Kael's past. It showed the weight of the choice he now carried. Would he be the one to shape the future, or would he be swallowed by it?
Zera touched the mirror, feeling the cold surface beneath her fingers. She whispered softly, her voice carrying through the still air. "It's not over. You broke it. Now someone will try to fix it. And that's always worse."
THE FISSURES OPEN—THE FINAL CHOICE
As Kael stood at the heart of Solmaris, gazing into the gaping Fissure that now lay beneath the city, a chill washed over him. The rift seemed to pulse with an energy that defied all logic, bending the very fabric of reality.
Inside the tear, Kael saw himself. A second Kael—one who did not speak, did not move, but only stared back with cold, knowing eyes. He felt no fear, no hesitation. Only the certainty that something was waiting.
Kael's hand clenched around Ashenflame's hilt once again, and the blade hummed to life in response. It felt different now, as if it, too, understood that the choice had to be made.
The decision weighed on him heavily.
Not yet.
He wasn't ready.
But he knew that soon, he would have to choose. To guide, to burn, or to become something greater than himself.