The morning after Kael’s ascension, the world felt wrong.
Too quiet. Too still.
The air trembled with leftover power — divine, pure, and dangerous. Every stone in the citadel carried his presence. His new “followers” had begun carving his sigil into walls and banners.
Kael sat alone in the grand hall, hands clasped tightly, as if holding himself together. His reflection shimmered in the black marble floor — the faint gold in his eyes burning like an ember refusing to die.
Lira entered quietly. “You haven’t slept,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself for what they’ve done,” she continued. “They worship you because they need something to believe in.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “They’re worshipping a lie.”
“Then show them the truth,” she said.
His gaze lifted to m
