When Kael and Mira returned through the portal, the chamber beneath Ironridge was not as they had left it.
Torches along the walls had burned out. A thin mist covered the floor like creeping frost. The air buzzed with static, as if the world itself had held its breath during their absence.
At the center of the room, the obsidian pedestal now bore something new.
A sigil.
A glowing red circle surrounded by eight jagged symbols.
Kael stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "The Seal of Binding," he murmured. "I saw it in the vision. The gods used it to lock away the gate."
Mira approached carefully. "Then there is another gate."
"Yes," Kael answered, his voice filled with quiet certainty. "And behind it lies power beyond divine. The path to ascend beyond the Ninth Tier. The realm of gods themselves."
Mira watched him carefully. "Are you sure it is not a trap? The gods locked it away for a reason."
Kael smiled faintly. "The gods fear what they cannot control."
As Kael reached out to touch the sigil, the pedestal shook. A flicker of light sparked across the room, and in a sudden burst, eight spectral chains emerged from the walls. Each chain linked to one of the jagged symbols on the seal.
The chains did not rattle. They pulsed.
Kael withdrew his hand. "Each chain represents a trial. Eight guardians. Eight cities. I must break them all."
"Eight cities?" Mira stepped back, her eyes widening slightly. "You mean to conquer the entire inner ring?"
Kael nodded. "Each one holds a link to the godseal. The trials are scattered across the continent, hidden inside the last remnants of ancient kingdoms."
"And when all are broken?"
Kael looked up. "Then the final gate opens."
Later that night, Kael stood on the battlements of Ironridge. He looked across the mountain ranges, already drawing his campaign in the air with his mind. North lay the frostlands of Eldhollow. South, the sunken fortress of Tyrgath. West, the wind-ruled cliffs of Vaelstrom. East, the desert towers of Zel Khadis.
Each land held secrets.
Each land would fall.
Mira approached quietly. "We received word from Virellen. Queen Elira has begun recruiting mercenary legions from the western isles. She is preparing for war."
Kael's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "Good. Let them prepare. I will not hide in shadows anymore."
He turned to face her.
"I will break every chain. I will burn every throne. And when the gods descend to stop me, I will rise to meet them."
Mira met his eyes. In them, she saw not just ambition, but purpose. Pain. Fury refined into clarity.
"You'll need more than power," she said.
Kael placed a hand over the pendant around his neck. The one his mother had given him before she died.
"I have purpose," he whispered. "And faith. Even gods fall when their believers turn against them."
Mira smiled faintly. "Then we begin."
That night, in the deepest chamber beneath Ironridge, Kael stood before a map lit by candlelight. Eight red marks glowed softly, each one linked to a city lost in myth or memory.
He placed his hand upon the first.
Vaelstrom.
The Wind Fortress.
Above him, the mountain howled.
The campaign had begun.