Kael sat beneath the twilight shadows of the Arx Memoria's outer courtyard. The cold stone beneath him felt strangely grounding, almost like an anchor. The runes beneath his skin still shimmered faintly, resonating with a pulse that wasn't entirely his own. It had been days since the incident in the Northern Wastes. Days since he'd wielded power no Soulborne should've accessed. And days since anyone had dared ask him what had really happened.
He hadn't spoken of the vision. Of the voice.
"Tenebris must rise again."
Those words haunted him—threads pulling at the loose corners of his thoughts. But worse than the echo was the knowing silence of those around him. Veyna barely spoke. Arien trained harder than ever. Riven cracked more jokes, but the levity never reached his eyes.
Kael exhaled, steadying the storm within him.
"You're spiraling."
The voice cut through the silence like a blade. Kael turned. Selai stood nearby, arms folded behind her back. Her usual stern composure was softened by something else tonight—regret, perhaps?
She walked closer and knelt before him.
"It's not just about what you did, Kael. It's about what you are."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You knew?"
She nodded slowly. "Senn told me... not everything. But enough."
Kael's breath caught. Senn. Of course. The man who'd been there from the start. Who trained him in the shadows, whispered half-truths, and always warned him never to reveal the mark.
"I should've died that day," Kael muttered. "But something brought me back. Something inside me."
"And now it's awake," Selai replied. "The Void Crest. The last of the Nine. The forbidden one."
Kael clenched his fists. "Why? Why hide this from me?"
Selai sat beside him. "Because knowing changes you. And because there are those who would tear this world apart to claim what's inside you. Or destroy it entirely."
There was a pause. Then Kael asked, "The Obsidian Circle... you're part of it, aren't you?"
She didn't answer. Not with words. But the silence, and the look in her eyes, said enough.
"I joined for a different reason than Senn," she finally said. "He wanted to protect the balance. I... wanted answers. And now, those answers are sitting right next to me."
Kael looked down at his hands. Faint embers still shimmered under his skin. "I don't want to be a weapon."
"Then learn to wield yourself," came a deep voice.
Senn stepped from the shadows.
Kael stood, stunned. "You—"
"I knew this day would come," Senn said. "I hoped it wouldn't be so soon."
He walked slowly toward them and looked Kael in the eyes. "The Void Crest is more than power. It's memory. Will. Legacy. It doesn't obey—it remembers. And when it remembers too much, it burns."
Kael's mind flashed—visions of fire, screaming skies, cities crumbling beneath black lightning.
"You think that was just magic in the Wastes?" Senn continued. "You tapped into something ancient. And now the Circle, the Empire... even the Wraithborn—they'll come sniffing."
Kael staggered back. "Then what do I do?"
"Train. Hide. Prepare," Selai said. "And most of all, trust no one. Not even us."
---
That night, Kael slept beneath the runed starscape of his chamber.
He dreamed again.
A field of swords, buried in ash. A thousand souls crying from the void. And at the center, Kurozan—its form now wreathed in shadow, whispering.
"You were never meant to survive. But now that you have… they'll never stop hunting you."
Kael reached for the blade, and this time, it reached back.
When he woke, his hand burned with new runes—unreadable, ancient, alive.
And Kurozan pulsed beside him like a second heartbeat.