The Imperial Palace rose like a blade carved into the heavens, its obsidian spires soaked in crimson light, as if the dawn itself bled in reverence.
To the untrained eye, it was a symbol of stability. Of divine right. Of mortal triumph.
But within its walls, the air trembled.
Tension simmered in the shadows.
The calm before a war not of armies, but of realities.
Kael stood alone atop the Balcony of Dominion, his gaze turned skyward. The wind tugged at his long coat, yet he did not move. His presence was still, unyielding.
Above, the sky had begun to change.
It looked the same, yes. The same painted sunrise. The same drifting clouds. But Kael felt the weight behind it. The pressure.
They were watching.
The gods had turned their gaze.
He could feel their scrutiny—cold, ancient, clinical. Not rage. Not yet. But concern. Curiosity. A fear too old and buried for them to admit.
They hadn't acted during his rise.
They had watched him slay a celestial.
They had remained silent when the Abyss began to pulse once more beneath the veil of reality.
But now?
Now they whispered in the stars.
Now they moved.
Kael closed his eyes, and for a brief second, he heard them.
Not with his ears—but with the other sense, the one that came with remembering what he was.
He heard their unease. Their debates. Their warnings.
And their decision.
Far to the south, beyond the reaches of noble banners and mortal ambition, the city of Vel Tiraz sat nestled among rivers of silver mist. Known to few as a place where truths were bartered like coin, its alleyways carried whispers faster than any raven.
Today, those whispers trembled as something foreign passed through them.
A woman. Hooded. Cloaked in silk darker than night, lined with celestial thread that glimmered beneath her movement.
To mortals, she was a noble from distant lands.
To seers, she was an omen.
And to the truly awakened, she was terror.
A celestial.
She moved with poise too perfect for humanity. Her steps made no sound. Her golden hair spilled from beneath her hood like liquid sunlight, and wherever she walked, the world seemed to hold its breath.
She passed unnoticed by the guards at the city gate. Not because they were blind or careless, but because their minds simply chose not to see.
The gods had sent her with a single command.
Observe.
If he was mortal, he would be discarded.
If he was more, he would be marked.
And if he was what they feared… then the war would begin.
Within the Imperial Palace, Kael gathered the empire's inner circle.
The Hall of Command echoed with silence, only broken by the crackling hearth.
Kael stood at the head of the long obsidian table, fingers laced before him. The Empress was at his right, her presence a quiet blade of control. She wore crimson today—unapologetically regal.
Across from her sat Duke Reinhardt, the once-defiant noble now subdued and sharpened under Kael's leash. Beside him, General Alistair, clad in silver-trimmed armor, tapped his gauntleted fingers against the polished stone table. His mind raced faster than most men could speak.
None spoke.
Until Kael did.
His voice, low and smooth, carried like steel through velvet.
"The gods have decided to act."
No gasps. No cries.
Only the tightening of jaws, the furrowing of brows.
The Empress tilted her head, her tone dry.
"Then they finally realize what we already knew."
Kael gave a slight nod, acknowledging her sharpness.
"They are cautious. Arrogant still. Their first move won't be fire and judgment. It will be a whisper. An infiltrator."
Alistair's hand stilled.
"A scout?"
Kael's gaze found him.
"A judge. One of theirs. Sent not to destroy—yet—but to assess."
Duke Reinhardt leaned forward.
"And when she confirms what we are?"
Kael's smirk was ice and certainty.
"Then we remind them why the gods buried the Abyss and chained it in myths."
The Empress exhaled softly, almost amused.
"You sound eager."
"No," Kael said. "I'm just… awake."
That evening, the celestial infiltrator reached the palace.
No walls stopped her. No runes triggered. No alarms cried.
The imperial defenses—vast, ancient, laced with spellwork and enchanted steel—should have felt her approach.
They did not.
Because Kael allowed her in.
She stepped into the heart of the empire like a dream, her feet silent on marble, her presence casting no shadow.
Yet she noticed something strange.
This palace—grand, sprawling, layered in centuries of mortal ambition—felt too quiet. Too calm.
Not in disrepair.
But expectant.
As if it had been waiting for her.
She passed through the outer courtyards, her golden eyes scanning every detail. Her divine senses prickled—sensing the air. The stone. The threads of fate woven into the architecture itself.
Then she froze.
Something was wrong.
She wasn't unseen. She was watched.
Not by mortals.
By the very structure of the palace.
As if every corridor whispered, He is here.
And then, she turned a corner—and her heart halted.
He stood at the end of the corridor.
No guards. No wards. No pretense.
Just Kael.
Waiting.
His posture was relaxed, one hand tucked behind his back, the other resting on the hilt of a curved blade that was never drawn.
Crimson eyes locked with hers.
Ancient met divine.
The celestial did not speak.
She did not bow.
But she understood, in that instant, why the heavens had stirred.
This was not a man.
This was not even a usurper.
This was something older, something that had once walked among them—before the thrones, before the stars.
Her voice was soft, unwilling to echo.
"You are not what we thought."
Kael smiled.
"No."
"You are not rising…"
"I'm returning."
The hall grew colder. Not from frost, but memory.
Her expression shifted.
This was not a test.
This was a confirmation.
Far above, in the Celestial Spire, the divine watched through her eyes.
The High Oracle trembled, her pupils glowing white as she served as conduit.
A god with a face made of thunder turned to the others.
"She sees him."
Another deity clenched a spectral fist.
"And?"
The Oracle's mouth opened.
"He knows."
"He remembers."
"He is not claiming the Abyss."
"He is the Abyss."
A silence fell that spanned the cosmos.
Then, the First Light spoke—a being made of living dawn.
"We have waited too long."
A sword of starlight materialized in the air.
"Begin the Summoning."
Back in the corridor, Kael stepped forward.
The celestial tensed, but he raised a hand—not threatening.
"You've done your part," he said. "Now return. Tell them what you've seen. And pray they are wise enough to hesitate."
Her voice was soft.
"And if they don't?"
Kael's smile held no mirth.
"Then let them learn what happens… when gods war against memory."
She took one final look, then vanished in a blink of golden light—leaving only silence in her wake.
Kael turned.
The Empress stood just behind him, arms folded.
"She'll speak?"
"She already has."
"And the heavens?"
"They're about to make their first mistake."
She smiled darkly.
"Then we'll be ready."
Kael nodded once.
"No. We'll be waiting."
To be continued…