The vault trembled with lingering energy as Kaelos and Prometheus emerged, the gauntlet still crackling with stormlight. Outside, the wind was quiet, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Kaelos stood at the cliff's edge, staring down at the forests that sprawled beneath Mount Kaegaron.
"They'll feel that on Olympus," Prometheus muttered.
"Good," Kaelos said coldly.
But the journey had only begun.
"There is another," Prometheus said after a long silence. "A titan who was cast down and buried deep, even before I was chained. He was the first to defy Zeus. The first to bleed for it."
Kaelos turned. "Who?"
"Othrys," Prometheus whispered. "Once the Pillar of the Earth. Now… the Buried Flame."
Kaelos narrowed his eyes. "Why would I seek him out?"
"Because he knows the oldest magic. And he holds the map to Nyx's Veil—a shadow realm where even gods cannot enter without fear."
Kaelos didn't respond at first. The mention of the old titan stirred something ancient inside him. The Gauntlet of Arkrion throbbed against his skin.
"Where is he?"
Prometheus hesitated. "Chained beneath the Sea of Glass, far in the west. You'll need a guide. A creature born of both sea and sky."
Kaelos tilted his head. "And where do I find something like that?"
---
Two days later, they arrived at the coast—where jagged cliffs overlooked an ocean as still as polished steel. No waves. No tide. Just silence, unnatural and heavy. The Sea of Glass shimmered beneath a sky that refused to storm.
Here, the air was thick with ancient laws. Divine laws. No mortal had crossed these waters in centuries.
A small boat sat at the edge of the cliff, carved from driftwood and bone, its sail made from translucent feathers that shimmered with moonlight.
"She will come," Prometheus said.
"She?" Kaelos asked.
Before the titan could answer, the sea split.
From the depths, a creature rose—its body the size of a mountain, scales glinting like sapphires, wings like storm clouds curled against its back. Its eyes glowed gold, and lightning coiled between its gills.
"Skyla," Prometheus whispered. "Daughter of Typhon. Born of chaos and air. A creature forgotten even by the Fates."
Skyla landed beside them, her wings folding with a hiss of wind.
She lowered her head to Kaelos.
He did not flinch.
"You seek Othrys," she said, her voice like the crashing of waves.
Kaelos nodded. "Will you take me?"
Skyla studied him with a gaze that pierced through bone and memory. "You carry the storm well… but storms are reckless. And Othrys is not kind to recklessness."
"I don't need his kindness. Just his power."
She snorted. "Spoken like a god."
Kaelos clenched the gauntlet. "I am not one of them."
Skyla turned, her massive body curling around the boat. "Then ride with me, Stormborn. And face the fire that still remembers what Olympus did."
Kaelos stepped aboard without hesitation.
As the sky darkened and the sea split open, the stormchild descended into the depths—toward a titan the gods hoped would never rise again.