The eighty-eighth dawn draped Kael El's Ashen Empire in a steady golden glow, the vast dominion humming with uneasy pride. The capital's skyline soared—bone steel keeps dwarfed by the Golden Colossus, its hundred-meter frame half-finished, core a faint violet-gold pulse against the morning haze. Kael stood in the plaza, Stormforged Blade in hand, shard-pommel humming like a restless drum. EX: Dragonflame Reaver glowed at his hip, Stormhide Armor dented, the ache from Sylth's shadows lingering in his shoulders. His flirty smirk played across his lips, a cool dominance masking a flicker of strain—yesterday's battle stung, hundreds gone, Rhea's fear heavy. He flexed EX: Gold Dominion, golden veins threading the cobblestones, warmer now, like a pulse answering the shard.