Chapter 35
The throne room of the Dead World was cloaked in silence. Keal sat upon his seat of obsidian, towering over the commanders who knelt before him. Their loyalty was unquestionable, but even in that silence he could feel the weight of their expectations.
"Nyx," Keal said calmly, his tone a shadow that carried through the hall.
The shadow commander rose, bowing with one hand across his chest. His violet eyes glimmered faintly.
"You will move tonight," Keal ordered. "Slip into their lands. I want knowledge of their rulers, their armies, their weaknesses. The kingdoms of men still breathe, but soon… I will decide who is allowed to draw their last breath."
Nyx's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile, but more like hunger. "It will be done, my king." He melted into the shadows, disappearing as if he was never there.
Keal then turned his gaze across his gathered commanders. Serenya Veylith, the Mystirus Talker, stood motionless, her hood casting an eternal veil. Selvaria, the Illusionist, leaned against her staff, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. Myros the Gravekeeper's skeletal fingers rested against the tomes chained to his side. Lyra, gentle yet firm, stood just behind, watching Keal with quiet concern. Vaelgor, the armored knight, his gauntlets crackling with restrained power, bowed with silent obedience.
Keal's voice echoed again.
"Seven kingdoms still rule this continent. Seven pieces on the board."
The Seven Kingdoms Eryndor (East) – The land of knights, banners, and discipline. The kingdom Keal once served as a knight. Thalos (North) – A frozen land of iron and stone, whose armies are built on endurance. Solmara (West) – A desert empire of trade, gold, and assassins hidden in silk. Valmere (South) – Known for its scholars, magisters, and magical academies. Drekaris (Northwest) – A rugged warrior kingdom, whose rulers claim blood ties to dragons. Orvelia (Central) – The wealthiest kingdom, a sprawling capital that connects all others through politics and greed. Kaelthar Dominion (Northeast) – A militaristic land of black-armored legions, feared for their ruthless conquest.
"And yet," Keal continued, his cold gaze sweeping across them, "they believe they are safe. They believe the heroes they raised and the gods they pray to will protect them."
It was Lyra who broke the silence.
"My king… if you were to meet the hero and his party again… what would you do?"
The room went still. All eyes turned to Keal. His answer came in a voice soft, cool, and unshaken:
"I will wait."
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. His tone sharpened like a blade in the dark.
"I will wait for the perfect time. When they feel victory is theirs, when they feel they have struck me down… I will rise, and I will make them watch everything they love burn."
A shiver ran through the hall. Even the commanders, beings who had seen death countless times, felt the weight of his conviction.
The Journey
Two nights later, Keal set out. He chose not to bring his strongest generals—Selvaria's illusions would draw too much attention, Serenya's aura was impossible to hide, Myros carried the stench of death. Instead, he took with him Valenys, one of the female dragon warriors in human form—silver-haired, crimson-eyed, her strength enough to crush armies, yet restrained in elegance.
They crossed the wilderness swiftly.
On the road, they encountered a band of four adventurers—two swordsmen, a bow-user, and a healer. The adventurers, cheerful and unaware of who Keal truly was, offered conversation.
"We're heading back to Eryndor," one of them said. "What about you?"
Keal's lips curved into a faint, almost human smile. "Historians," he lied smoothly. "I study the rise and fall of kingdoms. My companion assists me."
Valenys lowered her head politely, hiding her predatory aura.
The adventurers welcomed them warmly, speaking of inns, of food, of the life of travel. Keal listened, silent, noting every word. To them, it was friendly chatter. To him, it was intelligence—fragmented pieces of how the world had changed since his fall.
The journey took two days.
By the time the gates of Eryndor's border city, Grayhaven, came into sight, the adventurers were smiling with relief.
"Traveling's always safer with more numbers," one of them laughed, waving goodbye.
Keal gave a polite nod. "May fortune favor your blades."
They parted ways at the gates.
Grayhaven
Once inside the city, Keal slowed his steps, taking in the sights. Merchants hawked goods at every corner, armored guards patrolled the stone streets, and the banners of Eryndor flew proudly from high towers.
But under all that order, Keal felt it. Weakness. Greed. Fear.
"This kingdom…" Keal whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing. "Still blind. Still fragile."
Valenys leaned closer, her voice soft so no one would overhear.
"What do you wish to do, my king?"
Keal's lips curved, not in kindness, but in something far sharper.
"We learn. We peel back their walls piece by piece. Tonight, we begin."
And with that, he stepped deeper into the heart of the city, unseen threads of conquest already tightening around Grayhaven's unsuspecting streets.
End of Chapter 35