Kael Duram.
The moment the name left the stranger's lips, the court erupted. Swords drawn. Guards surrounded him. But the man didn't flinch.
Raen stood still, the name echoing through his soul like a funeral bell. Kael Duram—the warlord who had betrayed him in his past life. The man who had thrust the final blade.
Now… he stood before him again.
"You should be dead," Raen said, voice sharp despite his child's frame.
Kael's mouth curved into a cruel, satisfied smile. "So should you, Zion."
The guards made their move, but with a mere flick of Kael's wrist, the marble floor cracked, flames erupting in a perfect circle around him—forcing everyone back.
"This world is breaking," Kael said, addressing the queen now. "And the prince you protect is not a boy. He's a weapon. One I helped forge."
Raen stepped forward. "Why are you here?"
Kael's gaze locked with his. "To offer you a choice: reclaim what was yours—or watch it burn again."
And just like that, he vanished in a gust of black flame.