The night was a hollow void when Kael Deryn returned to his sanctum, the Veil clawing at his heels like a restless beast. His domain welcomed him in its grim, ominous silence, the jagged spires of his citadel piercing the starlit sky. It was the heart of his power a strong hold created of shadow and hate and tied by the ancient magic that beat in every brick of its otherworldly design.
It should've been a haven a place to retreat from the trouble of the mortal realm. But tonight the air inside felt strange, it was heavy with something Kael could not quite name.
Standing in the middle of his hall, he allowed his senses to stretch outward, golden eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. His magic reached into the ether, brushing against the pulse of the world's currents. And there it was: a disturbance. Subtle but still persistent. A wave in the Veil that should not have even been there.
He let out a faint growl, a hand tightening on the handle of the dagger sheathed at his side. It wasn't like the gods to act so openly and yet the disturbance had their signature, a bright and suffocating light covered in layers of deception. Whatever it is it had already started moving the moment he healed that child.
"Foolish," he muttered under his breath with his tone laced with disgust. But this disgust wasn't directed at the gods. No, it was directed entirely for himself.
He didn't even want to help the child. It had just been on a whim, a second of reckless boredom. A harmless experiment, he had told to himself. But the teary eyes of the mother and the trembling gratitude of the healer had left a bad taste in his mouth. And now it seemed that the consequences of his indulgence were already literally knocking on his door.
With a snap of his wrist Kael summoned his blade, a sleek midnight black weapon that glimmered faintly with dark energy. The hall dimmed more in its appearance as if the very air shrank away from its power. It felt like overkill for something as vague as a ripple in the Veil but Kael was not in the right state of mind for nuance.
He turned on his heel, the hem of his cloak trailing like liquid shadow across the stone floor. "Veylin," he called, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
A figure stepped out from one of the side passages, cloaked in a hooded mantle of deepest crimson. Veylin, Kael's steward and one of the few beings in the dominion he allowed near him, moved with a deliberate slowness, his every step measured. His pale, skeletal features were partially hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, but the faint shimmer of his violet eyes betrayed a spark of life that refused to be extinguished.
"You felt it too, my lord," Veylin said with his voice as dry and crisp as ancient parchment.
Kael didn't even bother confirming. He instead gestured towards the obsidian map carved into the far wall, a representation of the known world covered with glowing runes that throbbed with a dim light. As Kael neared, the runes shifted and rearranged themselves reacting to the commands in his thoughts. The map zoomed in on the area surrounding the village, the borders of the Veil fading into the lands past.
"There," Kael said while pointing to a faint glow that had no business even being on the map. It was a dot of golden light flickering like a beacon in the darkness.
Veylin's eyes narrowed as he studied the map. "A divine artifact," he murmured with his voice laced with a bit of unease. "It hasn't been active for centuries. What could have awakened it?"
Kael did not respond immediately. His gaze stayed fixed on the light, his mind swirling with all kinds of possibilities. An artifact of that magnitude was not a small thing. If the gods had activated it they would have already unleashed their champion by now, those self-righteous fools in clear shining armour who loved calling Kael the scourge of the world.
But there weren't any champions visible. Only the ripple, the gleam, and the weak pull of something impalpable. Something that felt strangely familiar.
Kael's lips curved into a smirk. "It wasn't the gods," he said, the confidence in the voice catching even Veylin by surprise. "They wouldn't risk revealing their hand so obviously. Whatever this is it wasn't intentional."
Veylin hesitated then dipped his head. "If that is the case, my lord, then whoever set off the artifact is either exceedingly foolish… or exceedingly dangerous."
Kael permitted himself a soft chuckle. "Dangerous, perhaps. But foolish?... That is yet to be seen."
He stepped away from the map, his cloak was rolling as he turned towards the gigantic double doors leading to the outer courtyard. Veylin advanced forward to follow but Kael stopped him with a raised hand.
"Stay here," Kael said his tone leaving no space for argument. "Prepare the wards. If this disturbance is what I believe it to be, we may have guests soon."
Veylin bowed deeply with his expression unreadable. "As you wish, my lord."
Kael strode out into the night, the cold air biting against his skin. The world outside his citadel was a shattered expanse of rock and ash, the remnants of battles fought long before Kael had claimed dominion over this cursed land. He breathed deeply savoring the bitter tang of the air. It grounded him and reminded him of what he was fighting for.
Or, more accurately, what he was fighting against.
The glimmer was closer now. He could feel it, a thread of light pulling at the very edge of his consciousness. It wasn't powerful, well at least not yet. But it had a weight to it, an inevitability that Kael couldn't ignore.
He reached out with his magic letting it seep into the currents of the Veil. The thread responded immediately, tugging him forward like a fishhook embedded in his soul. Kael followed it, his steps unhurried but deliberate. Whatever lay at the end of this thread, he would face it on his terms.
The thread led him to the edge of his domain, where the Veil thinned into a shimmering boundary between shadow and light. And there, standing just beyond the border, was a figure Kael had not expected.
She was cloaked in white with her golden hair cascading like sunlight over her shoulders. In her hands, she held a relic—a golden sunburst that pulsed with light so pure that it made Kael's eyes ache.
Elaine Varess, saintess of the Holy Church, stood as still as a statue, her wide, shining eyes locked on Kael as though she were gazing upon a god.
Kael's smirk returned, sharper than ever. "Well," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery, "this is unexpected."
Elaine's grip on the artifact tightened, her voice trembling but resolute. "You... you're the one, aren't you? The saviour from the prophecy."
Kael blinked. Then he laughed—a rich, cold sound that echoed through the desolation. "Saviour?" he repeated, his tone laced with incredulity. "You must be mistaken, little saint. I am no saviour."
Elaine stepped forward, her expression unshaken. "The artifact doesn't lie," she said firmly. "It illuminated in your presence. You're the one destined to bring balance to the world."
Kael tilted his head, studying her with growing amusement. "Balance?" he echoed. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
Elaine's eyes burned with conviction. "The gods have spoken. You are their chosen."
The smirk faded from Kael's lips, replaced by a cold, dangerous glare. He took a deliberate step forward, the shadows around him twisting and writhing like living things. "The gods," he said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "have no claim over me. And neither do you."
Elaine hesitated, her faith flickering for the first time. But before she could respond, the artifact in her hands flared brighter, its light spilling into the night like a miniature sun.
Kael's jaw tightened as he felt the ripple surge outward, the force of it rippling through the Veil like a stone cast into a still pond. Whatever this was, it was far from over.
And as the artifact's light consumed the night, Kael couldn't help but wonder what madness he had just unleashed.