Darkness. Cold. Silence.

Then—the sharp gasp of breath, like a drowning man breaching the surface.

Kael Veyne's eyes snapped open to a sky choked with storm clouds. The scent of decay clung to his skin, mingling with the damp earth beneath him. He lay in a shallow grave, his body stiff, his memories fractured. A distant ringing filled his ears, the echoes of a voice he could not placee.

Rise.

He staggered upright, dirt falling from his ruined armor. The metal was blackened and broken, barely holding together. His gauntlets were charred, as if fire had kissed his flesh and left him to rot. But there was no pain—only a hollow numbness that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

His fingers brushed his throat. The skin was smooth. Intact.

 Impossible..." His voice rasped, barely more than a whisper.

He remembered the flames. The searing agony as they consumed him. The faces of thos

 e who had once called him brother, watching as he burned. And yeteee, here he stood, risen from the ashes like a specter of vengeance.

A figure moved at the edge of his vision.

Kael turned sharply, his muscles coiled to strike. A lone man stood among the twisted remains of the battlefield, his face hidden beneath a tattered hood. The stranger did not flinch beneath Kael's gaze.

"You are not meant to be here," the man said, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.

Kael took a step forward, his boots sinking into the mud. "Who are you?"

The hooded man tilted his head. "A messenger. Nothing more."

"Did you do this to me?" Kael growled, his hand clenching into a fist. He felt power stir within him, an unnatural presence coiling around his soul.

The man shook his head. "No. But the one who did is watching."

Before Kael could demand more, the wind surged, carrying with it a whisper—a voice both familiar and alien.

Seek the truth, or be devoured by the veil.

The world around him darkened. The stranger was gone. Only the battlefield remained, stretching endlessly beneath a sky that threatened rain.

Kael exhaled slowly. The fire that had consumed him had not taken his life. It had taken something far worse—his peace.

He turned towards the distant lights of the city, burning like embers in the night.

"If they buried me," he muttered, "then they must believe I am dead."

A grim smile curled his lips.

"Let's keep it that way."

***

The city of Eldros loomed before him, its walls weathered by war. Banners of the Holy Dominion draped over stone towers, their sigils of silver and gold gleaming under the moonlight. The gates stood open, but armored sentries patrolled every corner, their eyes scanning the streets for trouble.

Kael pulled the hood of a stolen cloak over his head, keeping to the shadows. He had walked these streets before—as a knight, a protector. Now, he was a ghost among the living, an exile in his own home.

He needed answers. And there was only one place to find them.

The Raven's Rest.

The tavern reeked of sweat, ale, and desperation. A place where mercenaries and informants shared secrets over cheap drink. Kael pushed through the haze of pipe smoke, his gaze settling on a woman seated at the farthest table.

Lysara Thornvale.

She hadn't changed. Still draped in worn scholar's robes, still carrying that same air of defiance. Her dark eyes flickered toward him, widening in recognition. Kael reached her before she could slip away.

"Sit," he said, voice low.

She hesitated, then obeyed, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "You should be dead."

Kael smirked. "I was."

Lysara's eyes narrowed. "No one survives the pyre."

"I did. And I need to know why."

She exhaled sharply, glancing around before leaning in. "If the Dominion learns you're alive, they'll burn you again. This time, they'll make sure you stay dead."

"Then I need answers before they find out."

Lysara hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But this won't be easy. And whatever brought you back… it isn't natural."

Kael met her gaze, his voice steady. "I don't care what it is. I only care about the ones who condemned me."

Lysara sighed. "Then you should start with Dain Rhygar."

The name sent a jolt of rage through Kael's veins. His former brother-in-arms. The man who had stood silent as Kael burned.

"Where is he?"

Lysara hesitated. "He's with the Inquisition now. One of their elite. If you go after him, you'll be walking into a death trap."

Kael smiled. "I already died once. What's one more time?"

***

Outside, the city streets were quiet, but the air carried a sense of unease. Kael pulled his cloak tighter as he moved through the alleys, Lysara trailing behind him.

"You can't just kill him," she whispered. "Not yet. We need to know what he knows."

Kael's jaw tightened. "He watched me burn."

"And if you rush this, he won't be the only one watching you. The Inquisition will come down on you like vultures. We need a plan."

Kael exhaled slowly, forcing down the fury coiling in his chest. "Fine. Then we find out why he betrayed me first."

A gust of wind swept through the streets, carrying the distant sound of church bells tolling midnight. Kael glanced up at the towering spires of the Cathedral of Saint Aldric, where the Inquisition made its lair.

His fists clenched.

"Dain Rhygar," he murmured, his voice a whisper of cold steel.

"I hope you're ready to meet a dead man."