The city did not sleep.
From the crumbling spires of the old temple to the alleys soaked in shadow, people whispered of what they had seen the night before. Some swore the sky had bled. Others claimed the ruins screamed like a dying beast. Children cried as dogs barked into the night, and even the drunks who usually filled the taverns stayed sober enough to bolt their doors.
Every whisper carried one name.
Kael.
The Devil’s Heir.
It was only a rumor, but rumors had weight. And in this city, weight became truth.
Inside a ruined warehouse on the city’s edge, the man at the heart of the storm stood silent, turning a shard of silver and crimson in his hand. The corrupted fragment of the Moonlit Seal pulsed like a beating heart. Thin crimson veins crawled across its surface, glowing faint
