Kael stood at the edge of the palace courtyard as chaos mounted.

  He had waited years for this.

  If the demon broke free now, he could ride north and meet it before it regained full strength.

  He could end it.

  Or die trying.

  Behind him, Arin emerged, pale and shaken.

  “It spoke to me,” Arin said.

  Kael did not pretend to misunderstand.

  “What did it say?”

  “That I belong to the fracture.”

  Kael studied him carefully.

  “Then we don’t let it decide what that means.”

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  He unsheathed one of his twin blades and held it out.

  “This steel can wound what mortals cannot.”

  Arin hesitated.

  “If I take that, there’s no going back.”

  “There was no going back the moment the sky split.”

  Arin accepted the blade.

  In that instant, something shifted.

  Not fate.

  Not prophecy.

  Choice.

  Deep beneath the palace, the second chain cracked.

  And far beneath the mountains, Kael’Zareth smiled in the darkness.

  The Veil continued to thin.

  And war approached.