Chains snapped.
Not all at once — but with a subtle creak of iron under strain. Kael's breathing slowed, steady now. Controlled. He wasn't just enduring anymore.
He was waiting.
Above the ritual circle, the Mad Sorcerer chanted, trying to awaken the Eye fully. The cultists knelt around Kael, murmuring forbidden verses in unison. Symbols flared crimson. Dark energy swirled like a storm held barely at bay.
"You are a vessel, Kael," the sorcerer hissed. "The world needs a god of ruin."
Kael's fingers twitched.
"And gods… do not resist."
Far above, in the shadow of Dreadhold's war room, Lyra secured her sword to her back, her obsidian cloak fluttering in the cold wind of morning. Across from her stood Kaien, tightening his gauntlets.
"I can't believe I'm helping save a man I tried to kill," Kaien muttered.
Lyra glanced sideways. "You didn't try hard enough."
Kaien smirked.
Valdran entered next, joined by Syra and Veyna. Each bore different expressions — resolve, worry, quiet rage. Luna and Eclipse stood by the balcony, already cloaked and armored.
"We'll go east," Luna said. "Spread word that the king is alive and gathering strength. Distract the eyes watching us."
Eclipse nodded solemnly. "Let them chase shadows."
Valdran turned to Lyra. "If you're wrong about this, if Kael is gone…"
Lyra didn't answer. Her aura was already rising, heat radiating off her like a furnace barely restrained.
"I'll bring him back," she said. "Even if I have to walk through hell."
Back in the temple of the cult, Kael's chains finally buckled.
One shattered. Then another.
The Mad Sorcerer stepped back, alarm flickering in his eyes for the first time. "What are you doing?! You'll tear your soul apart!"
Kael's voice was low, trembling with power.
"Then let it break."
In an instant, his aura surged — not chaotic, but focused. Black and silver energy exploded outward, vaporizing the nearest cultists. The Eye pulsed wildly in his chest, but Kael held it at bay, sheer will anchoring him to the man he had once been.
The sorcerer raised a hand, casting a binding sigil, but Kael stepped forward through it, undeterred.
"You think chains will stop me?" he said.
The ground cracked beneath him.
But the victory was brief.
A symbol on the floor ignited — one Kael hadn't seen. A backup seal, hidden in the blood-soaked stone. It latched onto his spine like fire, and his body buckled mid-step. He dropped to his knees, coughing blood.
The Mad Sorcerer laughed. "You're strong, Kael. Stronger than I'd hoped. But not free."
With a snap of his fingers, a dozen cultists rushed forward and forced Kael back into enchanted chains. This time, they glowed with runes drawn from the Eye itself. He was still conscious… but only barely.
"Let's see how long your will lasts," the sorcerer said. "Because I will break it."
Back in Dreadhold, the Thorns and Lyra moved.
Their goal wasn't vengeance — not yet. It was retrieval. Extraction. Survival.
A storm was coming.
And Kael was still fighting.