ELARITH PEAKS — NIGHTFALL SANCTUM
The snow fell in slow spirals, silent and soft, as if mourning something long dead.
But beneath the stillness, the mountain screamed.
Within a hollowed cavern lit by bonefire and ancient sigils, a circle of cloaked figures chanted in a forgotten tongue. Their voices rose and fell like the heartbeat of the Peaks themselves, feeding a growing pulse of aura that writhed in the air—an unnatural fusion of spectral and divine energies.
A silver-masked priest stood at the center. His robes bore the mark of the old Eternals, now twisted into a sigil of mourning.
"We gather here," he said, "not in vengeance. But in remembrance."
A soft light bled from the glyphs behind him. A frozen statue stood upright—one of the fallen Eternals, preserved in final agony.
"This world has lost its rhythm. Its flame flickers without a source. But the Cycle will return. It must."
The priest turned, lifting a staff carved from fused relic bone.
"For that, the False Flame must be extinguished."
He didn't name Kael.
He didn't have to.
The Cradle of Silence had already declared their war.
SOLMARIS — VANGUARD HALL (WHAT REMAINS OF IT)
The council chamber was barely a chamber anymore—just shattered stone, a makeshift table, and remnants of old glory.
But people filled it again.
Lyra sat at the head, bandaged and stern. Kael stood behind her, silent but present. Drayke paced at the side, arms crossed, his flames dim but restless. Zera lingered in the corner, half-shadow, half-threat.
Others had come too. Warden scouts from Lirael's Divide. A surviving Mystic from Duskar. Even an emissary from Zenith's Reach—her skin pale as bone, her eyes a swirl of elemental aura.
"We've confirmed three things," Lyra began.
"One: Fissures are spreading. Five have opened in the last week. And they're evolving."
"Two: The Wyrmkin Accord is unstable. Half their ranks have broken off into what they're calling 'The Scaled Flame,' demanding Kael establish a new order."
"And three—" she hesitated.
Zera spoke next.
"The Cradle of Silence has resurfaced."
A cold silence fell over the hall.
"I thought they were eradicated," the Zenith emissary said. "A fringe cult from the Abyssal Wars."
"They never died," Zera replied. "They just waited for a world without gods."
Drayke slammed his gauntlet onto the table. "Let them come. I'm tired of ghosts."
But Kael raised a hand. "They're not ghosts."
Everyone turned.
"They're believers," he said quietly. "And those are always the most dangerous."
LIRAEL'S DIVIDE — OUTER WALLS
Night fell.
And with it, came the first attack.
Not armies. Not beasts.
Whispers.
Wardens on patrol heard their names called from the trees. One screamed himself into madness, convinced his wife—long dead—was calling him home. Another vanished entirely, leaving behind only his relic, shattered into dust.
Veyl Solane stood atop the ramparts, blade drawn, her eyes glowing faintly with layered aura.
"They're testing our minds before our walls," she muttered.
Beside her, a Warden Seer held up a glyph-stone, trembling. "This… this is Cradle magic. Distorted memory. Anti-resonance."
"Then sharpen your thoughts," Veyl said, narrowing her gaze.
"Because they'll be trying to steal them next."
SOLMARIS — KAEL'S DREAM
He stood in the old dungeon again.
The first one.
Only this time, he wasn't the one bleeding.
It was Lyra.
Drayke.
Zera.
All cut down before him.
And the System prompt returned—this time with no options.
[YOU HESITATED.]
[THIS IS YOUR END.]
Kael screamed.
KAEL'S CHAMBER — MOMENTS LATER
He jolted awake, breath ragged, hand instinctively clutching Ashenflame.
A pulse from the Crownless Core steadied his nerves.
But the dream lingered.
A warning.
A memory.
A premonition?
He wasn't sure anymore.
The lines were blurring.
He stood and walked to the open window. The wind howled past broken spires. Fires still dotted the city.
He whispered aloud to no one.
"What if I can't hold it all together?"
Zera's voice came from the shadows behind him.
"Then it breaks. And we try again."
ZENITH'S REACH — SKYVAULT ASCENT
High above the world, the Architects' seal pulsed once.
A flicker.
A heartbeat.
An eye—half-formed—opened.
And watched.