The eighty-seventh dawn crept over Kael El's Ashen Empire with a heavy golden haze, the vast dominion taut with unease. The capital's skyline gleamed—bone steel turrets dwarfed by the Golden Colossus, its hundred-meter frame a silent giant, core flickering violet-gold like a restless heart. Kael stood in the Lord's Estate hall, Stormforged Blade across his knees, shard-pommel humming low, a jagged edge to its song. EX: Dragonflame Reaver glowed at his hip, Stormhide Armor scuffed, a dent from Myra's beams still sore. His flirty smirk flickered, a cool dominance masking a faint tremor—yesterday's council lingered, Rhea's worry, Drayce's strain, the Colossus's cold pulse. He flexed EX: Gold Dominion, golden veins threading the stone floor, warmer now, stirring like his blood.