Night on the sky islands wasn't real night.
Just dimmer clouds.Colder winds.
But for the first time in centuries, a real shadow moved among them.
Tarn.
The city of Vanyr burned in his mind.
Silver towers.Glass streets.False heavens.
He'd tear it all down.
But first—he needed a message.
A warning.
His feet barely touched the ground.
The black flame inside him hummed.Guided him.Fed him.
He found his prey easily.
Vaelon.
One of the Twelve.The "Warden of Trials."The one who ran the pits Tarn had destroyed.
The one who smiled while Ishvalans screamed.
Vaelon was alone.
Meditating in a crystal garden.
Arrogant.Careless.
Tarn stepped into the light.
No cloak. No disguise.
Just him.
Red hair wild in the wind.Eyes darker than the abyss.
Vaelon's eyes opened lazily.
"You should be ash."
"You should be afraid."
Vaelon laughed. High and cold.
"You don't understand your place, mortal."
"I do," Tarn said, voice low. "Above you."
Vaelon moved fast.
Lightning exploded from his hands.Spears of divine energy, crackling toward Tarn.
Tarn didn't dodge.
He caught it.
The lightning hissed against his skin, blackening his arm.
The black flame inside him swallowed it whole.
Vaelon blinked.
Too late.
Tarn crossed the distance in two steps.
Grabbed Vaelon by the throat.
Lifted him into the air.
"How many did you chain?" Tarn growled.
Vaelon thrashed.Spat light.Tried to teleport.
Tarn's grip tightened.
"How many did you burn?"
Vaelon shrieked.
"I did what was necessary! They were primitives!"
Tarn's eyes blazed red.
The ground cracked beneath them.
"Wrong."
"They were family."
The black flame surged.
It poured from Tarn's chest.Wrapped around Vaelon like vines.Sank into him.
Vaelon screamed.
Not a human scream.
Something older.Higher.
His divine core shattered inside his body.
Light burst out of his mouth, his eyes, his chest—
And then he was gone.
Dust.
Nothing left but a scorch mark in the shape of wings.
Tarn stood over the ashes.
The city lights flickered.
For the first time in a thousand years—a god had fallen.
And the sky began to whisper:
"Tarn."
"Tarn."
"Tarn."
He turned his eyes to the towers above.
Not satisfied.
Not even close.
"One down," he muttered.
"Plenty more to go."
The black flame danced in his blood.
And the war truly began.