Chapter Seven: Whispers of the Broken Crown
The city slept uneasily under a sky thick with smoke and fear.
Kain and Lyra rested near the shattered walls, their backs to the ruins, watching the stars disappear behind gathering storm clouds.
Neither spoke—the weight of the coming war hung heavy between them.
Then, without warning, a ripple tore through the night.
A figure emerged from the mist: tall, cloaked in rags that seemed stitched from the shadows themselves. His face was hidden beneath a mask carved to resemble a broken crown.
Vera's voice erupted urgently in Kain's mind:
"Beware! That is a Harrowed One—marked by the Abyss itself!"
The masked figure raised a hand, and the very air twisted around him.
Blades of black energy sliced through the ground, carving symbols that burned and writhed.
"You," the figure hissed, voice like cracking stone.
"You dare awaken the Vessels? You hasten your own extinction."
Kain and Lyra stood side by side.
No hesitation. No fear.
They struck first.
Kain's arms ignited with Vera's light, while Lyra summoned her silver fire into a spear.
The masked one countered with a tide of darkness, the impact of their clash sending shockwaves through the ruins.
For every strike Kain landed, the masked figure regenerated faster. For every fire Lyra cast, darkness swallowed it.
"He's not fighting to win," Kain realized grimly. "He's testing us."
And as the battle raged, high above in the clouds, shapes moved—gigantic beasts unseen by mortal eyes, stirring as the balance of the world began to shatter.
The true war was waking.