Without Kael's steady hand, the unified realm frayed like the tattered remnants of a great tapestry, threads pulled apart by the harsh winds of ambition, greed, and fear.
The kingdoms that had once stood united, bound by promises made beneath the gaze of the gods, now splintered in a thousand pieces, each one singing its own song of rebellion.City-states, once proud and whole within the empire's embrace, declared themselves sovereign, their banners unfurled with the cry of independence that shook the earth beneath their feet.What had been one kingdom, one people, now became a thousand voices shouting for freedom, even if that freedom came at the cost of blood and sacrifice.
Warlords, hungry for power, carved their borders with blood and fire, each blade strike a claim, each battle fought a declaration of dominance.The lands burned beneath the fires of ambition, and Kael could feel the flames even in the cold stone of his retreat, where the Drowned Temple stood as a silent witness to the unraveling of the world he had tried to mend.
The old grudges, long buried beneath the weight of history, flared anew, like forgotten embers rekindled in the dark.Rivalries that had once been set aside in the name of peace now tore open wounds that had never truly healed.Brothers turned against brothers.Fathers turned against sons.Nations turned against one another.
In the heart of this chaos, whispers of Iven spread like wildfire, faster than any banner could be raised in revolt, faster than any sword could strike.His name became a shadow, a specter that haunted the war-torn lands.He was the heir to vengeance, the blade forged to undo all that Kael had built.Where Kael had walked in the light of hope, Iven walked in the shadow of despair, his every step a promise of war.
Kael watched from the Drowned Temple, his eyes fixed on the horizon, where the storm of rebellion churned.The temple's ancient stone walls, long silent, seemed to hum with the weight of a thousand regrets, the cries of a thousand souls lost to time.He had fought gods and their impossible games, had stood before them in defiance, but this… this was something far greater.This was the cost of peace.
A great sorrow coiled in his chest, tightening like a serpent with each passing day. He could feel it in the air, the bitterness that had taken root in the hearts of men.Without his hand, without his vision, the realm had collapsed into anarchy.He had been a symbol, a beacon, a unifier — and now, without him, there was only chaos.
He had once believed that his refusal to bow before the gods, his rejection of their gifts, would allow him to lead men into a new age of peace.But the world was not shaped by noble intentions alone.It was shaped by choices.And the choice to rise above the gods had not been enough to save men from themselves.
Kael closed his eyes, pressing his hand against the cool stone of the temple.He had fought against the immortals, defied their power, and yet he could not save the mortal realm from the deeper darkness within it.
The people of the land had seen him as a king — a ruler capable of uniting them, of bringing them to peace.But in the end, they were not united by his strength, nor his resolve.They were united by their fear, by their desire for power, and the brutal truth that men had always been their own worst enemies.
Iven's rise was the proof of this.A man forged in the fire of vengeance, shaped by hatred and loss, now moved through the realm like a shadow, his every step stirring the winds of war.Kael had given them peace, had offered them a world where children could grow without the burden of war, without the weight of kingdoms upon their shoulders.
But men had always craved more.They had craved power.And now, with Kael's absence, that power was being claimed by those who cared nothing for the future, only for what they could take in the present.
Kael had known, deep down, that his absence would leave a void.He had known that without his hand to steady the wheel, the kingdoms would fall.But even knowing this, he had left.For what good was a king if he was forced to wear the crown of gods? What good was a leader if his rule was nothing more than an illusion of immortality?
The gods had offered him everything — power, glory, dominion over all the earth.But Kael had rejected it, and in doing so, he had rejected their world.He had chosen instead to walk the earth as a mortal, to be with the people, to feel the weight of their burdens, their sorrows, their joys.
And now, he felt the weight of their failure.The weight of a world that had slipped beyond his reach, beyond his grasp.
He could no longer protect them from the chaos they had created.He could no longer shield them from the warlords, the rebels, the gods who watched from afar, waiting to see who would rise to claim the crown Kael had cast aside.
The Drowned Temple echoed with the silent cries of the past, the ghosts of kings who had once stood in the same place Kael now occupied.And Kael understood, as the temple's cold walls pressed in around him, that the true cost of his choices would not be known until the dust had settled, until the final battle was fought.
The world had been left to its own devices, and Kael could only watch as it spiraled toward the fate he had tried so hard to avoid.
But even in the face of this sorrow, there was a flicker of something else, something that refused to die.
Hope.
For as long as the wind blew across the fractured world, as long as there were those who still believed in something greater than the chaos around them, there would be a chance to rebuild.A chance to remind men of what they had lost, and what they could still fight for.
Kael stood in the heart of the temple, and as the wind howled around him, he made a vow — a vow not to save the world, but to save the souls of those who had lost their way.
If it was not to be him who stood at the helm of the realm, then let it be someone who remembered why the fight was worth it.Let it be someone who would see through the storm of war, and find the heart of peace once more.