Ash fell like snow. Silent. Endless.
Kael clawed his way out of the ruin, lungs burning with the metallic tang of blood and smoke. The once-sacred ground of the Crescent Vale was now a field of shattered stone and black fire. The stars had vanished, swallowed by a crimson haze that pulsed like a living wound across the heavens.
"Lyria…"
Her name left his lips like a prayer—and a curse. He could still feel her through the bond, faint and fractured, flickering like a dying ember. Somewhere beneath the chaos, she was alive. But not alone. The Hollow's presence coiled around that faint light, whispering in the edges of his mind like a thousand serpents hissing her name.
