The first sunrise of the New Age did not arrive with the cold, artificial brilliance of the Academy's mana-lamps. It arrived with a soft, persistent warmth that smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine—a scent that had been absent from the Capital for five hundred years.
Kael Light lay on the floor of the Prime Chamber, his fingers buried in the silver-white roots that had once been the city's cage. The "Stable Agony" had settled into a low, rhythmic thrum, but the exhaustion was absolute. His body, reinforced by the Star-Silt and the Goddess Aura's Blessing, felt like a bell that had been struck too hard and was still vibrating with a dissonant, bone-deep ache.
He opened his eyes. The iridescent grey was still there, but the silver-blue ring of Aura's blessing had become permanent—a thin, celestial halo encircling his pupils. He looked at his hands; they were clear of the violet lightning scars, but they felt denser, his skin carrying a faint, metallic sheen that didn't belong to a mortal man.
"Kael?"
He turned his head. Martha was kneeling beside him, her face smudged with soot and tears, but her eyes were bright with a peace he hadn't seen since the Emerald Jungle. Behind her, Pip was helping the "hollow" children—no longer empty shells, but breathing, blinking boys—to stand. They were looking at the glowing roots of the chamber as if they were seeing the heartbeat of the world.
"Is it... true?" Martha whispered. "The Spire is silent. The bells... they aren't ringing for the Guard. They're ringing for us."
Kael sat up, his ribs letting out a final, weary thud-crack as they settled into a new, permanent alignment. He was nineteen years old, and he knew, with a chilling certainty in his marrow, that he would look nineteen for as long as the curse remained. He was a monument of flesh, frozen in a moment of absolute agony and absolute light.
"The harvest is over, Martha," Kael said, his voice a dry, resonant octave. "But the world... the world is going to be very angry that we turned off the lights."
He stood up, his legs shaking but holding. He looked at the spot where the Prime Cradle had been. The star was gone, its energy integrated into the very soil of the city. Oakhaven was no longer powered by a prisoner; it was powered by a living resonance.
Suddenly, a heavy, metallic clanking echoed from the entrance of the catacombs. It wasn't the rhythmic march of the Royal Guard. It was the erratic, sputtering sound of a machine struggling to find its rhythm.
A man stumbled into the chamber. He wore the grease-stained overalls of the Iron Sultanate's Engineering Corps, but his shoulder-plates were torn off. His left arm was a complex prosthetic of brass and clicking gears, currently leaking a thin trail of steam. In his right hand, he clutched a series of scrolls that looked like they had been salvaged from a fire.
"The... the Spire..." the man gasped, collapsing to his knees. He looked at Kael, his single organic eye wide with a mixture of terror and awe. "You're the one. The Weeper. The one who broke the grid."
Pip stepped forward, his hand on a small wrench he had taken from the manor. "Who are you? Another Academy rat?"
"No!" the man barked, coughing up a spray of soot. "My name is Ignis. I was... I was a researcher for the Iron Sultanate. I defected when I saw the Dreadnoughts being fueled by the concentrated blood of the Sun-Blooded. I came here to warn the Academy, but... but there is no Academy left to warn."
Ignis looked up at Kael, his mechanical eye whirring as it zoomed in on Kael's aura. "You have to listen. The Sultanate... they didn't care about the 'Order.' They only cared that the Academy kept the mana-prices high so their coal-monopoly stayed profitable. Now that you've flooded the world with the 'Dawn-Mana,' their wealth is evaporating. Their Dreadnought Fleet is already in the Azure Sea. They aren't coming to restore the King, Weeper. They're coming to mine the city for its scrap metal and to take back the 'fuel' you liberated."
Kael looked at Martha, then at the three children. He saw the peace he had just bought, and he felt the weight of the war that was already rushing to meet them.
"I just wanted to heal them," Kael whispered.
YOU CANNOT HEAL A WAR, KAEL, the God's voice emerged, no longer a roar, but a heavy, somber vibration that matched Kael's own pulse. The entity had been quieted by the Blessing, but its logic remained. BUT YOU CAN LEAD ONE. THE MERCHANT IS GONE, BUT THE EMPIRES REMAIN. THEY WILL EAT YOUR 'DAWN' UNTIL THE SKY IS BLACK AGAIN.
Kael looked at Ignis. "Can your machines run on this light? The Dawn-Mana?"
Ignis stared at the glowing roots of the chamber. He reached out a trembling hand and touched the white-gold resonance. His mechanical arm suddenly purred, the gears moving with a smoothness it had never known.
"It's... it's perfect," Ignis whispered. "It's not volatile like the Silt. It's consistent. If we can build the engines fast enough, we can create a defense that doesn't rely on the Academy's circles."
"Then build them," Kael commanded.
He walked toward the stairs, his tattered grey cloak—what was left of it—fluttering behind him. He looked at Pip. "Pip, go to the Gut. Tell the 'Little Suns' to gather every piece of iron and copper they can find. We need to find Thorne... we need to find the soldiers who were tired of being slaves to the gold."
"Where are you going, Kael?" Martha asked.
Kael looked up toward the surface, where the sun was now fully above the horizon, illuminating the white marble towers of the Capital in a way they hadn't been seen in centuries.
"I'm going to stand on the walls," Kael said. "I want the Sultanate to see exactly what kind of sun they're trying to put out."
As Kael ascended from the catacombs, he felt the first of the Sultanate's long-range shells hitting the outer harbor. The vibration shook the Spire, but Kael didn't flinch.
He was nineteen, and he was a King. He was a monster, and he was a saint. And as he looked out over the sea, he saw the smoke of a hundred iron ships.
THE STAGNANT PEACE IS OVER, the God whispered. AND THE WORLD IS FINALLY HUNGRY ENOUGH TO MEET US.
Kael stood on the battlements, his iridescent eyes fixed on the horizon. He felt the "Stable Agony" hum—a permanent reminder that his work was not done. He would govern this kingdom. He would protect these people. He would spend thirty years building a world where the sun never set.
And then, when the time was right, he would go and find the God's heart and cut it out.