The forest still trembled from the last strike.

  Lightning hissed through the air, burning thin lines across the bark of nearby trees. The ground steamed, blackened earth glowing faintly where the bolt had struck.

  And through the smoke — Kael still stood.

  His sword hung loose in his hand, the edges scorched, his coat torn and singed. Yet his stance was unshaken, eyes burning with a steady golden light.

  The assassins hesitated for the first time. Even Eric had not expected him to endure that blow.

  Then, far away through the clash and chaos, voices cut faintly through the night.

  ---

  Rhea parried a strike, her blade catching the moonlight as sparks scattered across the air. Sweat mixed with blood down her cheek. “Kael!” she shouted, but her voice was drowned by another explosion of magic.

  Orin slammed an enemy into a tree trunk with a roar, his knuckles cracked and bleeding. “We can’t reach him!” he grunted, ducking under a blade.

  Tarin and Joran fought side by side, moving like mirrored shadows. A necromancer’s bone construct shattered between them, but more came crawling from the dirt.

  Daren stood further back, his arm bleeding, his expression cold and unreadable. His eyes flicked toward the glowing trees where Kael’s battle raged beyond sight.

  He said nothing — only clenched his jaw and raised his hand, sending a wave of burning air through another wave of attackers.

  “Hold them off!” he barked. “He’ll need time.”

  Rhea’s voice cracked with worry. “He’s alone against Eric—”

  “He’s not alone,” Daren said quietly, his gaze fixed toward the flashes of light deep in the forest. “He has everything I taught him. Pray that’s enough.”

  And under his breath, barely a whisper:

  Don’t fall now, boy.

  ---

  Back in the clearing, Kael rolled his shoulder, the tension leaving him in slow, measured breaths.

  He lifted his head. Smoke parted in a lazy curl as Eric’s assassins closed in once more, forming a half-circle. The one who’d struck him earlier stepped forward, lightning still crawling up his arms like living veins.

  “Still standing?” the man taunted. “Let’s fix that.”

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  He thrust his hands forward, and a new bolt of lightning screamed through the air — raw, blinding.

  Kael didn’t move.

  He watched the bolt, every crackle, every arc, every pulse of energy bending through the air toward him — and the Eye burned brighter, faster, clearer.

  For a split second, time itself seemed to slow.

  Then Kael moved.

  He stepped aside, his blade slicing through the bolt’s edge — and the current split around him, wrapping up his sword, coiling like a serpent made of light.

  The assassin’s eyes widened. “What—”

  Kael’s fingers twitched — and the lightning didn’t fade. It stayed, dancing across his arm.

  He looked down at the energy spiraling up his wrist, the glow mirrored in his eyes. The same rhythm. The same pattern. He understood it now — not as a trick, but as a shape, a sequence his Eye had memorized in a heartbeat.

  He smiled.

  The air cracked once, a sharp sound that made even Eric take a half-step forward.

  Kael lifted his free hand. Lightning answered.

  The same spear the assassin had conjured before now began to form in Kael’s grip — bright, violent, alive. It crackled against his palm as if resisting him, but his focus held. His stance grounded, his breathing steady.

  Blue light flared, wind surged outward, dirt and leaves spiraling around him in a storm of force.

  The assassin’s confidence shattered. “Impossible—”

  Kael’s voice cut through the static, calm and steady: “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

  He hurled the lightning spear forward.

  The world flashed white.

  The spear struck dead-center — piercing through the assassin’s chest with a thunderclap that split the air. The man’s body convulsed once, then collapsed to the ground, smoke rising from the charred hole through his armor.

  Silence.

  For a heartbeat, nothing moved. The remaining assassins froze mid-step, their confidence faltering for the first time. Even Eric’s blade lowered slightly.

  Kael stood at the center of the clearing, chest heaving, eyes glowing gold and blue, electricity still crackling faintly around his hand. The storm answered him now — faint arcs flashing between the clouds overhead, as if the world itself was echoing his command.

  Eric finally spoke, his tone unreadable behind the mask. “So… you’ve learned to steal lightning.”

  Kael turned his gaze toward him, slow and deliberate. “No,” he said softly. “I’ve learned to own it.”

  The words carried through the clearing like steel through silk.

  The air shifted again. The ground trembled, the forest groaning under the weight of power barely contained.

  Rhea, far off, paused mid-fight, her sword arm trembling as another pulse of energy rippled through the ground. “That’s… Kael,” she breathed.

  Orin grinned despite the blood on his lips. “Then maybe they should be the ones praying.”

  ---

  Back in the clearing, Kael tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the remnants of lightning still dancing along the blade.

  The assassins broke their hesitation. Two lunged at once — Kael deflected the first, spun into the second, his sword trailing blue sparks as it carved through the man’s shoulder.

  The others circled, desperate and cautious now.

  Eric lifted his blade again, slow and steady, his movements deliberate. His eyes narrowed behind the cracked mask.

  “Let’s see how long you can keep that power, Veyren’s heir,” he said.

  Kael didn’t answer.

  He took one step forward, lightning humming across his arms again, the Eye glowing hotter, brighter — his pulse syncing with the storm overhead.

  The next instant was chaos.

  Kael dashed forward, sword slashing in a storm of light. The ground erupted as two assassins fell, one scorched, the other thrown backward by raw force.

  Eric met him head-on, blades clashing, sparks flying between them with each strike.

  Steel, fire, thunder — the clearing became a blur of motion and energy.

  Kael’s attacks grew sharper, faster. Every movement copied, refined, and turned back with deadly precision. Every flicker of magic that touched him was mirrored, absorbed, returned.

  For the first time, Eric was the one driven back.

  The masked lord gritted his teeth, parrying a strike that sent tremors up his arm. “You think this makes you strong?” he spat.

  Kael pressed forward, his blade crossing Eric’s again, eyes burning through the mask. “No,” he said. “It makes me ready.”

  Lightning surged down the sword — a brilliant streak of blue and gold — and exploded between them.

  Eric slid back through the dirt, cloak torn, mask cracked further.

  Kael stood where he was, unmoving, the lightning fading from his blade, smoke rising around him.

  One of the remaining assassins hesitated — then screamed in rage, charging with both blades raised high.

  Kael turned his head slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

  Lightning flared again in his palm — another spear, this one faster, brighter, more focused.

  He hurled it.

  The spear struck like judgment.

  The assassin didn’t even have time to scream before he was thrown backward, his body collapsing into the burning dirt.

  The light faded, and for a heartbeat, only the sound of thunder rolled over the ridges.

  Kael straightened, the last arcs of lightning crawling across his shoulders, his breath steady, his eyes alight with fierce calm.

  Around him, Eric and the remaining assassins watched in silence — their numbers thinning, their confidence breaking.

  The tables had turned.