He tried to steel his mind, to anchor his heart in resolve. But every time he looked at Elarya—his younger sister—being pummeled by the merciless barrage of spells, something inside him cracked.
He clenched his jaw, forcing a sinister laugh to mask the storm within, but no matter how hard he tried, the tears still came. They slipped from his eyes, betraying him, just like he felt the world had.
Ever since they were children, Elarya had always shone brighter.
Gifted in spells, skilled in battle, wise beyond her years—she wasn't just powerful, she was exceptional. While Kael'thus worked himself to the bone, always pushing, always striving, Elarya soared.
She saved him more times than he could count—pulling him from the jaws of Vuls, shielding him from Night Stalkers. The elders used to say the gap between them was not that big.
But to Kael'thus, it felt infinite.
The difference wasn't just skill. It was purpose.
