Chapter 5: Echoes of Prophecy
The sky above the Emerald Cliffs shimmered with the pale hues of early morning. Below, waves battered the jagged coastline like nature's heartbeat, steady and unrelenting. Wind howled through the sacred grove nestled atop the cliffs, bending ancient trees that had stood longer than kings had ruled.
Aleron Dawnstar stood motionless before the Stone of Eternity, the blade of Solstice planted at his feet, its golden edge pulsing with ethereal light. His eyes—amber like molten gold—remained locked on the glowing runes engraved into the altar. The morning sun caught his armor just right, bathing him in a divine radiance that could fool the world into thinking he was a god among men.
But the fire in his gaze was troubled.
Kael was alive.
The whispers had come in dreams at first. Disjointed, maddening. Flames in the dark. Wings of shadow. A voice laughing at the end of the world.
Then came the vision.
A city burning. People kneeling. A black throne rising from the ashes.
And seated atop it—a man with amethyst eyes and a crown of fire.
Kael Valerius.
Once a prince. Now a threat to all existence.
Aleron clenched his fists, nails digging into the leather of his gloves. "The world thinks you're dead," he murmured, "but I know better."
The wind answered with a shriek, carrying with it the smell of salt and fire.
---
Footsteps approached from behind. Not stealthy. Deliberate.
Aleron didn't turn.
"Cassia," he said. "You're late."
A woman in sky-blue armor strode up beside him. Cassia Windgrace—second sword of the Radiant Order, and Aleron's most trusted lieutenant. Her hair was silver and short, framing sharp blue eyes that missed nothing. She wore no helmet, only a single silver feather tucked behind her ear, the mark of a chosen.
"We were delayed," she said. "A town east of the border was found… emptied. Not destroyed. Not looted. Just… gone."
Aleron's eyes narrowed. "How many?"
"An entire village. Three hundred souls."
He grit his teeth. "And the Church still refuses to act?"
"They fear another war." She scoffed. "They always do."
Aleron finally turned to face her. "Prepare the knights. We ride for Duskwind before the week ends."
Cassia blinked. "You intend to confront Kael personally?"
"I intend to end this before it begins again."
She frowned. "We don't know what he's become. That night… we saw his body, Aleron. We burned it."
"I don't care if he crawled from the ashes or the Abyss itself." Aleron picked up Solstice, sheathing it with a metallic hiss. "The moment he betrayed the oaths of the crown, he died to me."
Cassia hesitated. "The prophecy said—"
"I know what the prophecy said," Aleron snapped. "That the Hero of Light would rise to slay the Cursed Sovereign. That one would rise from the dead to claim the world. It's him. It has to be."
"And if it's not?"
He stared at her. "Then I'll kill him anyway."
---
Far across the continent, within the newly repaired wing of Duskwind Palace, Kael knelt at the heart of a ritual circle. Lines of crimson chalk stretched in ancient runes around him, pulsating softly. The air buzzed with arcane static, and the light around him dimmed unnaturally.
He was alone.
Except he wasn't.
> [Skill Activated: Forbidden Ritual – Memory Absorption]
On the stone slab before him lay the body of a high-ranking bishop of the Radiant Order—one who had plotted his death years ago. Kael had personally ensured the man's end last night with Lyria's help.
Now came the real reward.
Kael reached out, pressing two fingers to the bishop's forehead. A surge of dark energy erupted as memories flooded into his mind—sermons, betrayals, secret alliances… and visions of the future.
Aleron.
The bastard golden boy of the kingdom.
In one memory, Kael saw Aleron kneeling at the altar, accepting the Blessing of Solstice. In another, he was whispering with the Grand Cardinal about a "righteous purge" meant to eliminate those "touched by the Abyss."
Kael's lips curled.
Righteous, they called it.
He remembered the night of the purge. The screams. The fire. His own father turning away as his mother was branded a heretic and executed before his eyes.
Because of a prophecy.
Because Kael had been born with cursed eyes.
---
The ritual ended.
Kael exhaled sharply and stood. His hand trembled for only a second before stilling. Across the room, Lyria leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.
"You planning to turn into a lich next?" she asked.
Kael chuckled darkly. "No. But I've learned something important."
"Oh?"
"Aleron's coming."
She smirked. "Let him. I've been wanting to slit that hero's throat for years."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You two have history?"
"He hunted me once. Failed." Her expression darkened. "I intend to finish the chase."
Kael walked past her, brushing her shoulder gently. "Not yet. Let him reach us. Let him believe he still holds the light. Then we'll show him the beauty of darkness."
---
Later, Kael stood beneath the moon with Seraphina once more, the two alone near the Palace's ruined chapel. She had begun to warm to him, even if only slightly. Tonight, she wore no armor, just a simple robe of white and gold, her hair braided down one shoulder.
"Another vision?" she asked softly.
"No." Kael's voice was low. "A memory. Not mine."
"You've been playing with dark things."
"I am a dark thing."
She stepped closer. "You're still human."
"Am I?"
Her fingers brushed his hand. "You haven't killed me yet."
"Give me a reason."
She smiled. "I don't need to. Something tells me you'll find one on your own."
> [Quest Progress: Seraphina – 47% | Status: Tentative Ally]
---
Aleron marched with three hundred knights beneath banners of gold. At his side were mages, clerics, paladins—and two women.
The first, a noble with dragon blood and burning eyes: Selene Drakonheart.
The second, a priestess with frost in her veins: Ilyana Winterfall.
His harem.
His sword.
His legend.
They would clash soon.
And only one side could rewrite fate.