Chapter 10: Thrones of Ruin
Kael's boots echoed against the charred bones beneath him as he walked into the heart of the twisted garden. The Arbiter sat unmoving on his throne of ivory death, twin blades resting against either side of the armrests like ceremonial guardians. The crown of knives on his head pulsed faintly with ethereal light, each blade inscribed with celestial runes—the same runes that once adorned the gates of Heaven.
A silence hung between them, ancient and suffocating.
"I thought the gods abandoned this realm," Kael said, his voice low but laced with venom.
The Arbiter tilted his head. "They did. But they left me. A warden to the wound they carved in the world. A judge for the broken thing you've become."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "A judge? You sit on a throne of corpses and call yourself righteous?"
The Arbiter laughed softly, like rust scraping over bone. "Do not mistake order for mercy. I exist to preserve balance. You are the last fragment of a war long buried—an echo that refuses to fade."
Kael clenched his fists. Shadows swirled around his body like a living cloak. "I didn't crawl through the Abyss, tear through beasts and gods, just to listen to sermons."
The Arbiter rose.
And the world shifted.
The throne behind him dissolved into tendrils of light. The sky above cracked open, revealing a shimmering void filled with bleeding stars. The garden twisted, leaves withering into blades, the ground splitting as rivers of starlight poured upward instead of down.
The Arbiter stepped forward, twin swords levitating beside him.
"Then face judgment, Kael Valen—the Shadowborn, the Forsaken Flame."
Kael didn't wait.
He surged forward, sword igniting with Abyssal fire. The air warped as he clashed against the Arbiter's barrier of light. Their blades met with a scream of energy, shockwaves rippling across the broken garden.
The Arbiter moved with divine precision. His strikes were not wild or angry—they were calculated, surgical, like a god dissecting his prey. Kael blocked a horizontal slash, ducked under a spinning kick, and countered with a wave of darkness that exploded around them both.
But the Arbiter was already behind him.
Kael spun too late. A blade slashed across his back, tearing through his coat and skin alike. Blood sprayed into the ash-heavy air. He stumbled forward, catching himself on one knee.
"You bleed like a man," the Arbiter said. "But your soul… reeks of something older."
Kael spat blood and rose. "And yours reeks of cowardice."
He called upon the Abyss.
Black tendrils surged from his shadow, forming a second blade in his left hand—sleeker, faster. With twin swords now, he fought differently. Unpredictable. Wild.
Strike. Twist. Feint. Strike again.
The Arbiter faltered.
Their duel carved craters into the land. Trees of bone snapped under waves of force. Starlight bled into the earth, mixing with Kael's shadow until the very ground trembled beneath them.
And then—Kael saw it.
A flicker.
A hesitation in the Arbiter's stance when Kael spoke her name.
"She's alive," Kael growled. "You saw her in the threads, didn't you? That's why you're afraid."
The Arbiter's eyes flared.
"No one defies fate."
Kael roared and drove both blades into the Arbiter's chest.
The divine warden gasped, staggering back. His crown cracked—one of the blades falling from it, shattering against the stones below.
Kael grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close.
"You call this balance? This endless judgment? The gods burned her from existence, and you call that justice?!"
The Arbiter's eyes dimmed. "It was… necessary. She would have unraveled… everything."
Kael's expression was ice. "So will I."
He shoved the Arbiter back and raised his sword.
One final strike. One act of defiance.
He brought the blade down—and cleaved through the Arbiter's head.
The body collapsed in silence, crown falling beside it.
And then, the realm shifted again.
The throne shattered, the garden began to decay, and a spiral of light opened in the distance—another gate. A path forward.
Kael sheathed his sword, pain still burning through his body. The serpent mark on his hand flickered, dimmer now, as if exhausted.
"I'm coming for you," he whispered, his voice rough. "No more illusions. No more chains."
---
Far away, in the forgotten ruins of an ancient temple, Seris knelt beside the girl. Her breathing had slowed, face pale, eyes closed. The power she unleashed against the Celestial Warden had drained her.
But the pulse in her chest was still strong.
"She's stabilizing," Seris muttered. "Barely."
They'd hidden in the shadow of a fallen statue—once a monument to a god of war, now little more than rubble. The runes around them had dulled, but a faint warmth still lingered in the stone.
Seris looked out across the barren valley beyond.
"I know you're close, Kael," she said. "You always moved like fire. And fire always finds its way."
The girl stirred.
A single word left her lips.
"Kael…"
Seris smiled softly.
Then she heard it—footsteps in the distance.
Not Kael's.
A group.
Figures wrapped in cloth and chainmail, bearing marks of the Celestial Court. Their armor shimmered with holy enchantments, and their eyes burned with purpose.
"Damn it," Seris muttered, standing and drawing her blade. "They never stop sending hounds."
One of them—a tall woman with silver hair and a spear of golden fire—stepped forward.
"Hand over the girl," she commanded. "And we will grant you a swift death."
Seris didn't flinch.
"You want her? You'll have to go through me."
The woman raised her spear.
"So be it."
They charged.
And Seris met them head-on, blade spinning, fury burning in her chest like a second heart.
She'd stall them.
Because Kael was coming.
And when he arrived—
The world would burn.