The halls of Dreadhold, though carved in obsidian and veined with ancient runes, held not just echoes of footsteps—but of friction. The Thorns had gathered once more, their council chamber lit with the cool blue glow of spiritfire, dancing across the stone faces of twelve rulers, warriors, assassins, and beasts. And though they bowed before Kael, not all bowed without grudge.
Luna stood beside the Dread King, eyes sharp as ever. But even she could sense the tension seething like poison beneath the surface. Eclipse leaned against a pillar, gaze trained on Nyzara, the silver-haired assassin, whose recent suggestion to strike Vardros directly had gone unheeded.
"I wonder," Nyzara said now, voice like silk dragged over blades, "if mercy is a luxury we can afford when vultures circle us."
"The Dread King gave his command," Luna replied coolly. "Are you questioning it?"
"I'm questioning whether softness is seeping into our roots." Her eyes flicked toward Kael, a challenge laced behind the venom.
Kael's gaze swept the room, cold and iron-clad. "Enough."
The silence was instant.
"We are not children arguing over scraps," Kael continued. "We are Thorns—each of you carved from war, bound by blood, and chosen not for obedience, but strength. But strength without unity fractures kingdoms."
Eclipse stepped forward, arms folded. "Then perhaps we should address the fractures before they rot the root."
Kael studied him, then gave a small nod. "Speak your mind."
Eclipse's gaze roamed the chamber. "We have grown powerful. But that power breeds pride. Pride breeds doubt. Some here believe they could rule better. That they deserve more."
A few eyes shifted uncomfortably. Others, like Nyzara's, narrowed.
Luna's growl was low. "Enough of this—"
In a flash, Luna dashed forward, her claws half-drawn, aiming straight for Nyzara in a blur of motion and fury. The assassin barely had time to blink—
Until Eclipse's arm shot out, catching Luna mid-strike.
"Stop," Eclipse said sharply, eyes glowing with an eerie light. "This is not the way."
Luna glared, her teeth bared, but slowly pulled back, her breath ragged with rage. Nyzara smirked, ever unbothered.
Kael's voice dropped, thunderous and slow. "Let them believe what they will. If they can best me, let them try. But let none forget—I rose from the ash of betrayal, forged in chains and curses. You follow me because I earned it. Because I bled for it. If you want my crown…"
He stood, cloak swirling behind him, thorns of his black crown catching the firelight.
"…then come and take it."
Silence reigned.
After a breathless moment, the Thorns bowed.
But the seeds of rivalry had been sewn.
—
Meanwhile, in the verdant valleys of the human realm, Princess Lyra Veylor stood beneath a towering statue of the Sword Saint—her half-sister Seraphine. Around her, bustling traders, cloaked guards, and whispered rumors danced in the air like pollen. But Lyra's eyes were fixed on the road ahead.
The roads that led to Kael.
She had begun to ask questions. Of tavern drunks and runaway slaves. Of travelers and traitors. And a tale was forming—a tale far different from the one she'd been told in the palace.
At an inn that night, as the wind howled against warped shutters, Lyra sat across a one-eyed former soldier who had once served under Kael.
"He saved my son," the man said simply. "Burned half a fortress down to do it. Said no child should be sold like livestock."
Lyra's hand trembled as she sipped her tea.
"And the Thorns?"
"Monsters to some. Saints to others. But they'd follow that man into the jaws of the gods."
Her heart thudded. She remembered Kael's eyes—so cold, so wounded. Could this truly be her brother?
—
Back in Dreadhold, Kael stood before a new assembly—this time, not of Thorns, but of freed demi-human clans. Wolf-kin, scaled folk, fanged warriors once bound in chains, now clothed in dignity.
"I have summoned you," Kael said, "because your people were stolen. Sold. Shamed."
The chieftains said nothing, eyes wary.
Kael's gaze did not flinch. "They will be brought back. Every last one. And those who kept them will pay—unless they surrender them willingly. You will have your families returned. You will have a home here. In the Shadow Crown's domain."
One wolf-kin elder stepped forward, fur silvered with age. "Why?"
"Because I was once sold too," Kael said. "Because your pain is mine."
As he turned away, Luna stepped beside him.
"You're changing."
"No," Kael murmured. "I'm becoming who I was meant to be."
But even as justice was sown, the roots of the Thorns' unity grew brittle—and Kael knew that if they splintered, not even a crown of thorns could hold his kingdom together.
In the embers of loyalty and the rising winds of doubt, the Dread King's path grows ever more perilous. And far beyond, his sister walks roads lined with questions... and perhaps, redemption.