Kael’s sword trembled, its tip hovering inches from Eric’s chest. Blood dripped from his fingers, falling in slow rhythm to the earth below. Every muscle screamed, but he didn’t move.

  Eric’s eyes — glowing that strange, icy blue — met his. For the first time since the fight began, there was no hatred there. Only pain. And fear.

  Kael exhaled slowly, his voice rough. “You don’t deserve—”

  He never finished the sentence.

  A cold spike tore through his back.

  The breath left his lungs in a single, broken gasp. His body froze, shock rooting him where he stood. He looked down — the tip of a blade glinted from his chest, slick with blood.

  Behind him, the last assassin — the one he had run through moments ago — stood shaking, his eyes wide with dying rage. Somehow, barely clinging to life, he had crawled back to his feet and struck.

  Kael turned his head slightly, just enough to see the assassin’s pale, blood-streaked face.

  Then the strength drained from his body.

  He dropped to one knee. His sword slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a dull clang that echoed through the still forest.

  “Kael…” Eric whispered, disbelief cutting through the haze of battle.

  For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

  Then Eric stumbled backward, clutching his side, blood and pain mixing with the fading light of his awakened Eye. The blue glow flickered erratically — unstable, violent — as if it might consume him at any second.

  “Fall back!” he rasped, his voice breaking. “We’re leaving!”

  The surviving assassins — only four now — obeyed instantly. Two grabbed Eric by the arms, half-dragging him away. The others limped behind, their faces pale and silent. The blue shimmer of Eric’s Eye dimmed with every step until it vanished into the mist.

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  Kael collapsed fully, his body hitting the ground hard. The taste of iron filled his mouth. The sky above blurred, the stars smeared across the blackness like fading embers.

  Footsteps thundered in the distance — fast, desperate.

  “Kael!”

  Rhea’s voice tore through the night, raw and breaking. She reached him first, falling to her knees beside him. Her hands pressed against the wound, but blood poured through her fingers.

  “Stay with me—please stay with me!”

  Orin and Tarin arrived next, blades still drawn, eyes wide with horror. Joran followed, dragging one of the dead assassins aside, scanning the trees for any sign of movement.

  And then Daren appeared.

  He didn’t shout. He didn’t curse. He just froze — his face pale, eyes fixed on Kael’s still form.

  He dropped beside him, fingers trembling as he checked for breath.

  For a long, awful moment, there was only silence.

  Then Daren whispered, voice shaking, “He’s gone.”

  Rhea’s cry broke the air.

  The sound tore through the clearing, echoing between the trees. Orin turned away, fist slamming into the dirt. Tarin closed his eyes, lowering his head. The battle around them was over — but the silence that followed was worse than any war cry.

  The storm clouds above began to scatter, faint moonlight slipping through the breaks. It fell over Kael’s body — pale skin, bloodied chest, eyes half-open and unfocused.

  Daren bowed his head, whispering something under his breath that none of them could hear. Then he placed a hand over Kael’s heart and closed his eyes.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Darkness.

  Cold. Weightless. Silent.

  Kael’s thoughts floated in fragments — images flickering like broken glass. The battle. Eric’s face. The flash of blue light. The pain. And then… nothing.

  He tried to move, but there was no body. No breath. No heartbeat.

  Only the echo of his own thoughts.

  Then—

  A voice.

  Low. Deep. Familiar.

  “We meet again.”

  Kael froze — or would have, if he had form to freeze. The voice rolled through the void like thunder, smooth and mocking.

  “So you died again, hmm?”

  It laughed — a rich, unsettling sound that rippled through the emptiness.

  Kael’s thoughts sharpened. “You…” His voice was strange here — like a whisper without air. “Who are you?”

  “Still asking that, are you?” the voice chuckled. “Even after everything, you still haven’t figured it out.”

  Kael strained against the dark, searching for anything — a shape, a light, a clue. But there was only the endless black, stretching forever.

  “Where am I?” he demanded.

  “Between,” the voice said softly. “The space between what you were… and what you’re meant to be.”

  Its tone shifted, amused but heavy with something older — something ancient.

  “You have power, Kael of Veyren. But power alone doesn’t make you alive. Tell me—did you hesitate, or did you finally choose?”

  Kael tried to speak, but the words caught. The memory of his blade trembling inches from Eric’s chest flickered in his mind.

  He didn’t answer.

  The voice laughed again, low and pleased.

  “Ah. You still don’t understand.”

  The void rippled — light shimmered briefly, faint gold weaving through the blackness like threads of flame.

  “You’ve died twice now,” the voice murmured, its laughter fading into something colder. “And both times, you’ve come closer to remembering me.”

  “Remembering you?” Kael repeated. “What are you—”

  “Not yet,” the voice interrupted. “You’re not ready.”

  Kael felt a pull — like invisible hands dragging him downward, deeper into the dark. His thoughts started to fade, his voice weakening.

  “Wait answer my question who are you?!”

  “You’ll know, soon” it whispered, soft now."I think it's time for u to go your friends will be sad.

  Kael looked at the direction of the voice but didn't see anyone

  "But I will help u this last time" it whispered" go and visit the graves of the past lords of veyren u might find something interesting there"

  Kael looked completely confused

  "Also watch out for -------_--___----". Then came that laughter again — echoing, unending, wrapping around him like a storm until everything turned white.