The storm didn’t stop for days.
Thunder rolled endlessly above the ruined valley, and flashes of lightning painted the broken landscape in brief, haunting light. Kael stood on the cliff’s edge, his cloak whipping violently behind him, watching the storm like it was something alive.
He hadn’t slept. He couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, Azrael’s laughter echoed in his mind.
The System is not your power. It’s your prison.
The words burned deeper than any wound.
Behind him, Lira climbed up the rocky slope, her boots sliding against the slick stone. “You haven’t moved since sunrise,” she said softly. “You’ll collapse if you keep this up.”
Kael didn’t answer. His eyes glowed faintly crimson as he stared at the sky. “The storm isn’t natural. It’s feeding off the System’s instability.
