Kael woke before dawn with the echo of the dream still burning in his chest.
The image of Eron standing over him with a divine blade refused to fade. The feeling attached to it felt different from ordinary fear. It carried the weight of inevitability.
Kael sat up slowly.
“The gods are no longer testing belief,” he whispered. “They are preparing for execution.”
Outside his window, cathedral bells rang again, with three slow strikes. Then silence.
Kael’s eyes narrowed.
“That is not a prayer bell,” he said. “That is a summons.”
The cathedral assembly hall filled quickly.
Knights stood in rigid formation while priests whispered among themselves. The air felt thick with divine presence, as though the ceiling itself pressed downward.
Eron stood near the center of the hall, confused but
