Power fears what it cannot control. And the Guilds? They fear nothing more than a god reborn in mortal flesh.
But fear breeds chaos. And in chaos, the first move is rarely the right one.
The hunt has begun. And Kael Vire is no longer the prey he once was.
The Guild Council convened in secret — far beneath the spires of Elarion, within the Obsidian Sanctum where even truth dared whisper.
Seven thrones.Seven Warlords. But only five had arrived.
Lord Varyn of the Crimson Flame stood first, his voice a snarl cloaked in smoke and fire.
"He's not a boy. He's a vessel. And if we let him ascend... we fall."
His gauntlet struck the obsidian table, cracks forming where divine heat lingered.To him, Kael was a fuse lit — a threat not to be studied, but extinguished.
But not all shared his fury.
Lyssa Vale, shadow-draped and still as moonlight, raised her gloved hand. Her eyes glowed faintly violet — the signature of the Phantom Wing Guild.
"I watched him fight," she said. "Through spy-crows and shattered wards. That wasn't chaos. That was purpose. If he remembers who he is... he might break the Cycle."
Murmurs followed. The Cycle — the loop of death and divinity. Forbidden knowledge.
Some flinched. Others leaned forward.
No decision was made. But they all moved.
Assassins were dispatched. Watchers embedded. Recruiters veiled in charm and lies.
Not one, but three Guilds targeted Kael Vire.
Meanwhile, Kael stood at the edge of Sector 13 — Dead Hollow.
Only it wasn't there anymore.
Ash. Blackened steel. Smoke still rising from bones and stone.
His throat tightened. His mind went numb.
I was gone for two days…
Children's shoes lay melted into the ground. Crushed trinkets. Charred walls. The scent of death.
He dropped to one knee, clutching the still-warm dirt.
This wasn't Netherspawn. This was… deliberate.
A man limped past him, covered in soot and grief. When he saw Kael, his face twisted in terror.
"You…" the survivor whispered, eyes wide. "You're the Hollow Prince. It was you!"
More voices echoed behind him. Fear. Accusation.
Kael stepped back. No...He clenched his fists, the sigil on his back flaring with heat.
They think I did this.
Framed. Again. First the gods… now this world.
The Hollow was gone — and with it, the last piece of home he had.
But Kael Vire did not run.
He turned to the smoke. To the whispers. To the gathering blades on the horizon.
Let them come.
[END OF CHAPTER 5]
Above him, hidden in the clouds, the first assassin watched through mirrored eyes — and whispered to her dagger, "Strike at dusk. Make the Graveborn bleed."
Next Chapter Preview Teaser:
[Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 6: Black Lotus Rising]
Kael is hunted — not by monsters, but by men forged in war and shadow. Guild assassins descend on the ruins of Dead Hollow, blades singing silent death.
But Kael has changed. He does not flee. He fights.
And in the blood-soaked dusk, the Graveborn awakens something new — not light, not shadow… but memory.