Far above the smoke-choked streets of Velmire, where the screams of the city couldn't reach, the tyrant king stood in silence.
From his balcony atop the Sky Citadel of Drelthane, King Valcheiros the Hollow Flame watched the kingdom with eyes like burnt coals. Cold. Heavy. Ancient.
Behind him, a line of advisors and generals stood bowed, their armor gleaming, their faces pale.
A scout knelt before the throne.
"My liege," the scout stammered, "we lost the priest. The Voidspeaker is dead. Dozens of cultists scattered. And there are… witnesses."
Valcheiros didn't move. His cloak, woven of red silk and golden thread, shifted slightly in the wind.
"Witnesses?" he said at last.
"Yes, Your Majesty. A boy. Lightning-born. He—"
The king turned slowly.
"Lightning," he said, as if tasting the word. "A relic power. Rare. Dangerous. Untamed."
The scout nodded. "But controlled, my liege. Clean. Precise. He stood against the flame and did not burn."
There was silence.
Then Valcheiros stepped toward the map that hovered midair in his war chamber—a glowing outline of the kingdom.
His finger tapped once, right above the district of Velmire.
And the rune glowed red.
"Bring me the boy," he said.
"Alive?" the general asked.
Valcheiros smiled.
"No. Burn what you must. Kill who you must. But bring me what he leaves behind."
---
Back in Velmire
Kira pulled the hood tighter around Syaoran's head as they moved through the ruins of the alley, avoiding the scattered flames and broken bodies. The tavern was no longer safe, and the rebel cachehouse wasn't just a refuge now.
It was their base of war.
Rinna lay unconscious but alive in one of the hidden rooms below. Teren had begun to stir, murmuring about the parchment, the Seal, the Eye.
And Syaoran sat quietly against the wall, staring at the burn mark left by the Voidspeaker.
A jagged crater.
Still smoking.
Still alive.
Kira knelt beside him. "You killed one of the king's seers. The cult will call you cursed. The king will call you a threat."
Syaoran didn't look at her. "And you?"
She hesitated.
Then she said, "I'll call you what you are."
He turned, tired. "And what's that?"
She met his eyes.
"The lightning before the storm."
---
Far above, in the sky citadel, the king's orders spread like wildfire.
The Black Watch would march.
The floating ships would descend.
And the first whispers of a name not heard in generations would begin to echo in the kingdom.
"Veilborn"