The silence within the sanctum was absolute.
Kael sat motionless at the heart of the underground shrine, his body surrounded by a web of softly pulsing glyphs that lit the stone floor beneath him. The ancient spiritwalker magic etched into the chamber responded to the sigil on his arm, binding and amplifying the raw force that surged through his veins.
Aelira stood just outside the circle, arms folded, her sharp gaze never wavering. Lin knelt nearby, her eyes filled with a mixture of awe and concern. The room vibrated with energy—not chaotic or hostile, but deep and resonant, as though it echoed from the marrow of the earth itself.
Inside Kael's mind, the vision unfolded again.
A throne stood in the heart of an obsidian plain, black stone towering around it like the ribs of some dead god. The sky overhead roiled with dark clouds lit from beneath by crimson lightning. Upon the throne sat a figure cloaked in shadows, indistinct yet imposing, its face hidden behind a mask of polished onyx. Kael couldn't see its eyes, but he could feel its gaze piercing him.
The figure spoke, its voice like a thousand whispers echoing in unison.
"You walk the path, Pactbearer… but you do not yet understand it."
Kael opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came. He was no longer in the shrine. The dream—if it was a dream—felt far too real. His body was weightless, yet his spirit was bound in place, fixed before the Throne of Echoes.
"Why me?" Kael managed to think. "Why was I chosen?"
The figure rose from the throne. Its movements were fluid, almost liquid, yet every motion carried the weight of centuries. It stepped down the black stairs, and with each footfall, the ground trembled.
"Because you carry the burden of the First Pact. Because your soul remembers."
Kael's breath caught in his throat. "The First Pact…?"
"When realms were young and the veils between worlds thin, we forged a covenant to preserve balance. That covenant was broken. The cost was ruin. Now the cycle begins again."
The figure stretched a hand toward him, and Kael felt heat pierce his chest—like fire searing through his ribs. He screamed silently as images poured into him: wars fought across galaxies; winged titans crashing into cities of glass; the screams of gods being devoured by their own creations.
And then…
A single tear.
Falling from Lin's cheek.
Kael's vision shifted. He stood in a future not yet real—a city burning around him, Lin lying wounded in his arms, Aelira leading a final charge into Aelira leading a final charge into the heart of an ancient gate.
The skies above cracked like shattered crystal, and from the rift descended something vast—formless, shifting, yet unmistakably alive. A shadow that consumed light, a hunger older than the stars. The black sun.
And at its center… Kael.
But not the Kael who knelt now in the shrine, uncertain and afraid. This version of himself radiated power so immense that the very air around him warped. His eyes burned with twin rings of white fire, and from his back unfurled ethereal wings shaped like blades of obsidian. He raised his hand, and reality itself trembled.
People fled from him—soldiers, monsters, even gods—and Lin, bloodied but conscious, whispered his name not in fear, but in pleading.
"Kael… come back to me."
The vision collapsed.
Kael gasped, choking on air as he was ripped back into the shrine. His body convulsed once, then stilled. The runes around him flickered and went out. Lin's hand was on his shoulder, her voice trembling.
"Kael! What happened? You stopped breathing for—"
"I saw it," he said hoarsely, eyes wide. "I saw what I become. What I might become."
Aelira moved closer, brows furrowed. "Was it a warning? Or a prophecy?"
Kael slowly stood, his legs unsteady beneath him. "Both. It was… the Throne of Echoes. A place outside time. And the one seated upon it… I don't know who—or what—it was. But it knew me. Knew what I carry."
"The First Pact," Lin whispered. "You mentioned it in your sleep."
Kael nodded. "A covenant older than this world. Something that bound the realms together. It was broken… and now the pieces are waking."
He looked at the two women beside him—his allies, his tether to what remained of his humanity.
"I saw you both in the vision," he said quietly. "Aelira… you were leading a charge. Against something impossible. And Lin…" He paused, throat tight. "You were dying in my arms."
Lin stared at him, shaken. "Do you believe it will come to pass?"
"I don't know," Kael admitted. "But I know this: if I do nothing, it will."
Aelira's expression hardened. "Then we act. We find the roots of this 'First Pact.' We uncover who broke it—and why. And we make sure you never become that creature in your vision."
Kael met her gaze, then Lin's. Something in him had changed—hardened.
"I need to master the power I carry," he said. "Not suppress it. Not hide from it. I have to understand it… or it will control me."
Lin took his hand, her grip firm. "We'll face it together. Whatever it is."
Aelira smirked. "Good. Because I have a feeling the next step leads us straight into the Forsaken Gate."
Kael nodded. "Then that's where we go."
Behind them, the last glyph faded. The silence of the sanctum remained, but it no longer felt empty. It pulsed with the memory of a pact long broken… and a destiny waiting to be rewritten.