The sky above Thornhollow wept with thunder, not rain.
Lightning forked across the heavens like the fury of gods, and beneath its glow, Kael Darven stood alone on the shattered remains of a watchtower—his ivory-dark skin glistening with sweat, curls crackling faintly with static. Around him, the air trembled with barely-contained energy.
He raised his hand.
Another bolt answered.
It slammed into his outstretched palm, his veins flaring with white-blue aether as the force fed into his Stormcaller's Core, the pulsing crucible near his heart now burning brighter than ever.
"Kael," came a voice from behind. It was Alaric, his silver hair rain-slicked, eyes wary. "You'll burn out the core if you don't pace yourself."
Kael exhaled, letting the lightning bleed into the stone beneath him. "I'm not pacing anything anymore. I just saw a Voidspawn tear through an entire town square. It had Maeryn's signature all over it."
A flash of emotion crossed Alaric's face. "So she's finally moving."
Kael nodded. "And worse, she's not alone. Word from the scouts—she's linked up with the Voidbinders in the Black Spire. They're calling her the Hollow Heir now."
Alaric glanced down at his gloved hand, where the faint etchings of fire and stone pulsed with quiet heat. He clenched it. "Then she's too far gone."
"Maybe," Kael muttered. "Or maybe she's finally found people who think like her."
They stood in silence. Below, the city stirred uneasily—still rebuilding, still wary. Too many had died in the last attack. Too many were starting to question whether the new generation of Aetherforged could protect them.
A rustle of cloth. Lysera emerged from the inner corridor, her cloak fluttering in the wind. Her eyes, a soft violet hue, flicked between the two boys with sharp insight.
"You both missed the Council summons."
Kael chuckled. "That's Lord Varen's problem."
Lysera arched a brow. "He's ready to brand you a traitor, Kael."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Kael replied, snapping his fingers. Lightning danced between them like a playful serpent.
Alaric sighed. "Enough. Lysera, what did the Council say?"
"They're...split. Half want to fortify, the other half want to parley with Maeryn. Varen's pressing for a preemptive purge of the Spire. He has the votes to do it."
Kael frowned. "We're not ready. Not until I finish synchronizing with the Thundercore."
"You're close?" Alaric asked.
Kael grinned, eyes lighting up. "I felt it today. The storm doesn't just answer me now. It listens."
Lightning cracked overhead again, this time slower, heavier. A warning.
From the outer wall, a scout cried out. "Incoming!"
They all turned.
From the treeline, five Voidbinders emerged—shrouded in blackened robes, wielding corrupted aether. Behind them strode a massive figure cloaked in violet shadows. A creature stitched together from titan flesh and void essence.
"A Ravager," Lysera whispered, her hand reaching for her spear.
"No," Alaric said grimly. "It's a message. Maeryn wants us to know what she's become."
Kael stepped forward, letting the storm rise around him. "Then I'll answer her."
Alaric grabbed his shoulder. "Not yet. Not until we know the cost."
Kael looked back, lightning dancing in his eyes. "If we wait too long, Alaric…there won't be a city left to save."