The Obsidian Table. The Council of Crows.
A hidden chamber beneath the floating citadel of Virelion buzzed with tension. Seven nation banners hung behind iron-clad rulers and sharp-eyed envoys. The seats were full. The silence, sharper than any blade.
At the head of the table, Grand Marshal Ithran of Eryndor stood. His silver armor gleamed.
"The Dread King has fallen. Or vanished. Either way, the monster is out of his throne."
A few murmured in agreement. Others sat stiff, unsure.
"You all felt it," Ithran continued. "His absence. The Eye's energy receding. This is our chance."
King Thelric of the Southern Empire folded his hands.
"You want to wage war against Dreadhold?"
"I want to liberate the continent before he returns," Ithran snapped. "We strike now. Unite our forces. End this... empire of monsters."
In the corner, the Heroes of Velharys sat—silent observers. Tensions among them were visible. Seren, the stoic healer, looked conflicted. Ryder, the brash swordsman, leaned forward.
"I fought Kael. He didn't want war. He spared civilians. He took the throne from demons."
"And now he's gone," muttered another noble. "And the Thorns? The beast twins? Valdran the Slayer? They'll protect Dreadhold in his absence."
A cloaked figure stood silently and excused themselves—a Hero who had not spoken.
As the arguing grew louder, the figure slipped away from the council and vanished into the shadows.
Dreadhold. Twilight.
Lyra stood at the ruined edge of the garden plaza, where her fury had scarred the stone. Her eyes were cold now, lips drawn into a firm line. Luna and Eclipse sat nearby, quiet. Shamed. Silent.
"We can mourn later," Lyra said. "We need to act now. Kael wouldn't want this kingdom left open."
Suddenly, the great gates opened. Guards tensed, weapons drawn.
A single figure entered, throwing off their hood—a Hero.
"They're coming," the Hero said, panting. "All of them. The nations. They've united. They plan to take Dreadhold while Kael is gone."
Gasps rippled through the Thorns.
"Why warn us?" Valdran narrowed his eyes.
"Because they're wrong about him. About you all. And I won't fight in a war that destroys innocent lives just to play politics."
Silence.
Then Lyra spoke, her voice a whisper at first.
"Then we stand together. Not just for Kael... but for everyone who believed in him."
She turned to the Thorns.
"Gather your armies. Fortify the gates. If the world wants to bring war to our door—then let them know this kingdom still has teeth."
Somewhere far away… Kael opened his eyes. Shackled in bloodstained chains, lips cracked, but eyes burning.
"Let them come…"