Varendel was a carcass — a once-glorious fortress city now overrun by Vorgs and Netherspawn, nightmarish creatures birthed from rifts called Graves. Only the elite Guilds could afford protection. The rest? They scavenged or died.
Kael Vire was neither elite nor protected.
Born mute, with a scar down his spine like a lightning bolt, Kael lived in Sector 13 — also called Dead Hollow — a no-go zone for Guilds. He was 17 now. Thin, sharp-eyed, and faster than most thought possible.
He made a living looting near Graves — dangerous, yes, but he wasn't normal. He could feel when a Rift would pulse. He didn't know why.
One day, in the ruins near Grave 46-B, Kael found something buried in obsidian. A fragment — glowing silver, warm to the touch.
The moment he touched it, he remembered.
A burning throne. A sword of galaxies. And betrayal.
He screamed — his first sound in years.
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