The world was bleeding light.
A storm of black fire raged across the torn heavens, swallowing the moon, the stars, and every whisper of dawn. The Bound One's awakening had split the veil between realms, and the sky itself screamed in silence—an ancient cry that only those bound by magic could hear.
Kael stood at the threshold of the rift, the ground cracked beneath his boots, molten veins of crimson running like lightning through the earth. His body was a map of old wounds, his veins humming with a darkness that wasn't entirely his own.
He had been marked by the Abyss.
And yet, it was that very mark that led him to her.
"Lyria…" he breathed, and her name was the only prayer he still believed in.
The wind around him moved unnaturally, tugging at his cloak, pulling him toward the swirling void ahead. It wasn't a wind of air, but of memory—whispers, fragments of laughter, screams, and heartbeat echoes looping endlessly. The Hollow Between Stars.
