Vephra's personal sanctum was not a throne room.
It was a library of bones.
Every wall lined with shelves, and every shelf filled with scrolls bound in hide, wax-sealed skulls, and jars of preserved voices.
Kael stood before her as two silent guards shut the heavy door behind him.
The air was warm.
Too warm.
Vephra sat not on a throne, but cross-legged in a circle of burnt chalk, eyes covered by six strips of black gauze.
"Sit," she said.
Kael remained standing.
"I don't kneel well."
"You're not meant to kneel. Just to listen."
She didn't ask his name.
Didn't ask about Leonis's army or numbers or supplies.
Instead:
"Do you believe he remembers who he is?"
Kael blinked.
"You mean, beyond 'revenant prince of the ashes'?"
"I mean," she said softly, "the boy."
Kael sat slowly.
"I don't know. Sometimes, when he's quiet, I think I see it. Other times, I'm sure it died in that tomb."
Vephra tilted her head.
"And if it did?"
Kael didn't answer.
So she pressed.
"Would you follow a god, Kael? A real one? Not a metaphor in a crown—but something with no past, no guilt, no hesitation?"
He finally met her gaze—what little could be seen of it.
"I'd follow someone who remembers why they shouldn't become one."
Vephra breathed in.
And for a moment, the lamps in the room flickered.
"That is the right answer."
"Because it is not the one your revenant would give."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"You planning to kill him?"
"No," she said. "I am planning to let him try. And watch what happens when the world burns not at his feet, but behind his back."
Kael exhaled slowly.
"Why the test?"
"Because the last revenant we pledged to led us into ruin."
"This one might do worse."
Meanwhile – The Northern Path
Leonis crouched among ruins of an old watchtower, eyes locked on the convoy.
Six soldiers in golden plate. One priest—robes bright white, untouched by dust, eyes sunken but alert. Floating beside him: the relic.
A chain, made of gold and bone, looped in mid-air like a serpent watching prey.
It pulsed with light that felt—not bright, but accusatory. Like being judged by heat alone.
"Relic identified: Chain of Suppression. Origin: Second Choir. Effect: Soul-binding and will erasure. Direct contact not advised."
Leonis watched.
Waited.
Then moved.
He took the high path—over broken roof tiles and fallen stone—to intercept the convoy on the narrow ridge road.
He stepped into their path before they saw him.
The first guard raised a spear.
Leonis raised his hand.
"Surrender the chain."
The priest's voice rang out, sharp and trained:
"I name thee revenant. By sun and stone, be bound!"
The chain moved.
Fast.
It darted for Leonis like a whip of pure judgment.
He dodged—
But only just.
It snapped toward his throat, coiling mid-air, seeking the soul.
He activated:
"Soul Compression – Burst Mode."
His presence dropped to near-nothing.
The chain faltered.
He struck—not with blade or power—but with a word.
"Break."
And the world shook.
The road cracked.
The priest staggered.
But the chain did not break.
It turned.
And for the first time—
It spoke.
"You are not allowed."
Leonis's eyes narrowed.
Kael's voice echoed in his mind: "You're not afraid of dying again, are you?"
And he smiled.
"No," he whispered.
"But you should be."