The night was drenched in blood and fire.
Smoke coiled upward, black against the darkened sky, as embers drifted like dying stars over the sacred roots of the World Tree. Its once-luminous glow was faint now — tainted, flickering, as if struggling to breathe beneath the corruption spreading from its base. The air was thick with the stench of iron and ash, screams echoing between the trees like the cries of dying spirits.
Luca sat near the fractured roots. His eyes were unfocused, his thoughts still tangled in the remnants of that golden light, that fading warmth. The echoes of her final words still lingered in his ears.
"Remember… if anyone can answer that question, it's you… Luca… or should I say… Kian."
His fingers trembled faintly. Kian. The name clawed at something deep inside him — something buried, something he didn't yet understand.
But that moment of stillness shattered in an instant.
"Kill these rotten creatures for our Emperor!"
