Kai trained daily in the upper courtyard. His wild instincts shaped into focus. The Sunstone pulsed in his palm like a second heart.
He felt everything.
The pull of the mountain's veins. The ghosts that haunted the forge. The path of ravens in flight.
Even the rebels changed around him. The stares of doubt slowly shifted into nods of respect.
One night, Elara found him alone.
"You carry your crown like a wound," she said.
Kai didn't look up. "It doesn't feel earned."
"No crown is. They're forged in loss. Tempered by blood."
He said nothing. She touched his arm. "The stone hums louder now. That means the storm draws near."
Before he could ask, Bram's voice echoed through the corridor.
"Movement in the tunnels!"
They descended with torches and weapons. The air was wrong, wet and stale. The light dimmed the deeper they went, as if swallowed.
The creature stood alone. Cloaked. Breathing shallow.
Its eyes glowed red.
"You're the king the ghosts serve," it rasped. "You should've stayed in the trees."
Then it attacked.
Kai moved like a gale through leaves. Sunstone flared, spear met claw. The thing was fast, but not fast enough.
A flash of golden light. A cry that echoed off stone.
And then, stillness.
The creature choked out a final whisper.
"He sees you now… and he waits."
Later, in the Hall of Stone, Elara knelt beside the body.
"His soul is gone. Willingly twisted. Not possessed, devoted."
Anya's face darkened. "Cultists."
Kai stared at the blood on his hands. "He knew me."
Lyra stood beside him. "Then it's time we make sure everyone knows you."
Anya nodded.
"Eldermoor falls before his reach spreads. No more waiting."
Kai gripped the hilt of his spear.
He wouldn't let the darkness win.