Ashport was supposed to be safe.A city of deals, shadows, and unspoken alliances.But even shadows can betray you when the light grows too bright.And Kael?He was starting to burn.
Ashport was empty.
No footsteps echoed down its steel alleys. No vendors shouted over the scent of blood-orange spice and iron. No voices murmured in the dark beneath the skybridges.
Only smoke.
And silence.
Kael walked slowly through the main artery of the underground city, boots crunching over broken glass. The signs of a rushed evacuation were everywhere — overturned crates, flickering runes on abandoned market stalls, papers strewn across the cobblestones. Something had happened here. Not days ago. Hours.
His pulse quickened.
Kara?
He passed a Black Lotus insignia scorched into a wall. Someone had tried to burn it out — as if removing the mark would erase the queen who once ruled here. But even fire couldn't cleanse everything. Blood still streaked the floor near the old guild fountain.
He paused.
Then he saw them.
At the center of Ashport Plaza, standing beneath the massive suspended crystal core that powered the city's barrier grid, were figures dressed in black and violet.
Phantom Wing.
Not scouts. Not observers. These were soldiers — elite Arcbinders, armed with ripple-blades and sigil rifles. Eyes glowing. Formations perfect.
And leading them…
Kael's breath caught.
Lyssa Vale.
She stepped forward, materializing from a temporal veil. Her long coat shimmered with ward sigils. Her silver hair, usually tied back in sleek discipline, fell loosely around her shoulders today — softening her sharp, regal face.
But her expression?
Tired. Heavy.
"Sorry, Kael," she said, voice low, calm, and too familiar. "This wasn't my call."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Then whose was it?"
"The Council. After Seren fell, they panicked. You're not just a Graveborn anymore. You're a convergence point." She took another step. Her soldiers didn't move — but every weapon pointed at his heart. "They voted. You're to be contained. Or killed. They want your Core."
Kael's fists clenched. His halberd buzzed into shape behind his back, uncalled but not unwelcome.
"You defended me."
"I did." Lyssa's voice cracked, just slightly. "And I still am."
She raised a hand, palm-out — not casting, not commanding.
"Kael, listen to me. If they get to you first— the Warlords, the ones not bound by honor or fear — you won't survive. I convinced them to let me try first. This isn't execution. It's mercy."
He stepped closer.
His eyes, glowing with flickering traces of will and memory, locked onto hers.
"You think this is mercy? You think handing me over — after everything — is some kind of favor?"
Lyssa flinched.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."
"I'm not the one drawing lines."
The wind shifted.
And just like that — the fight began.
Lyssa moved first, as always. She shimmered and vanished, reappearing behind Kael mid-spin. Her hand reached for his spine — the core anchor point.
Kael ducked, rolled, and countered, glaive manifesting mid-motion.
Steel met nothing.
She was gone again.
Chrono-Pulse. He'd seen it once before — on a battlefield soaked in fire. Lyssa could pause local time in short bursts, reverse single-object states, and blink through tethered reality.
But Kael had changed since then.
He'd fought gods in the Spire.
He wasn't bound by simple time.
She blitzed forward, ten versions of herself blinking like afterimages. A ripple-blade curved through the air, aiming for his chest. Kael brought up his glaive — too slow.
It struck.
But didn't cut.
Shadow Echo. A perfect illusion, flickering with ethereal shimmer, absorbed the attack. His real self blinked into view behind her, halberd spinning downward.
Lyssa twisted mid-air, casting a delay loop that froze his swing for half a second — long enough to backflip away.
Damn, she's good.
Kael surged forward. Ether flared. He feinted left — then right — then dropped low, slamming his glaive into the ground and unleashing a soul pulse.
Lyssa's boots skidded as her temporal anchor flared.
Now.
Kael activated Soulbind.
Light flared around them in a silent detonation — and Lyssa staggered, gasping, her movements suddenly sluggish. Her chrono-loop failed.
"What... what did you do?" she choked.
Kael stood tall, eyes blazing.
"I took your anchor."
The temporal stream surrounding her — the very source of her time manipulation — bled out of her body like mist into his palm. Kael absorbed it, not fully, not permanently — but enough to destabilize her precision.
Enough to win.
He stepped back, glaive retracting into shimmering particles.
Lyssa knelt, panting. Not defeated, not broken — but stunned.
Kael didn't strike.
He could've. Maybe he should've.
But he didn't.
"You taught me something," Kael said quietly. "Time doesn't fear power. It fears change."
He turned and began walking away.
Her soldiers — some unconscious, some fleeing — didn't follow. They'd seen enough. The Core-bound Echo had just bested one of the most feared commanders in the realm — and didn't even kill her.
As he passed beneath the cracked crystal core, Kael paused.
So this is how it starts, he thought. Not with divine thunder. But with betrayal wrapped in mercy.
[End Of Chapter 11]
Above them, in orbit just beyond mortal eyes, a star blinked — and kept blinking. Not light. Not a sun. But an ancient watcher finally awakening.
Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 12: Realm of the Hollowed Moon
The next fragment lies buried deep beneath the ruins of Vael'thir — but the way is locked not by magic, but by memory itself.
Kael must descend into the Grave of Echo and face the Librarians — ancient wardens of truth and forgotten timelines.
But truth is a blade far sharper than any glaive... and one Librarian still remembers Aeon's greatest sin.