Kael
Kael stood before a wall of fire, sweat dripping down his brow as his power cracked the air around him. The training was relentless now Malek demanded perfection. No hesitation. No weakness.
"You’re not like the rest," Malek said, circling him like a predator. "You were born for something far greater."
Kael didn’t know why the words stirred unease in him. They used to give him purpose. But lately… they sounded more like a cage than a calling.
"What am I born for?" Kael asked finally.
Malek’s smile was thin, distant.
To bring balance to a broken world. Or destroy it, if balance cannot be restored.
Kael’s fingers curled into fists. He hated vague answers. He hated not knowing.
But he needed Malek. He needed this power.
So he swallowed the doubt. For now.
Lior
Lior returned from the graveyard with dirt on his hands and a storm in his heart.
He had found the woman’s grave, the one whispered about in old archives. The birthdate. The death date. The cause of death.
"Childbirth."
His.
But there was no name carved beside hers. No father. No legacy. Just silence.
And in that silence, the dreams began to shift.
Now there were flashes of someone cloaked in darkness. A figure standing over his mother. Not helping. Not mourning.
Watching.
Lior didn’t know what it meant.
But he would find out.
He had to.
Malek
Alone, far from both sons, Malek sat in a chamber filled with artifacts, trinkets of control, stolen memories, enchanted tomes. A twisted throne carved of bone behind him.
Two pendants glowed on the wall each linked to a life born of the same mother. Each holding a spark of a power older than magic itself.
"They were born under a Percious moon," Malek whispered to himself. "Twin sons, one of fire, one of light."
He chuckled darkly.
"And neither knows the blood that binds them. Just the pain that drives them."
He needed both.
Not as sons.
But as weapons.
One forged in wrath. The other in truth.
When they clashed, the world would burn and Malek would rise from the ashes.