The palace waited.
Not passively—not like stone.
Like a predator that had already measured its prey.
At the foot of the obsidian steps, the statues stood in perfect stillness—tall, armored figures carved from black glass and shadow. Their faces were blank. Their weapons lowered. Unthreatening.
Too unthreatening.
"Positions," Kael said quietly.
The statues decided to move.
Obsidian plates slid apart with a patient, mechanical grace. Joints rotated. Eyes ignited with a dim internal glow. They stepped down from their plinths as one—no haste, no urgency. They did not need it.
Elaris took the air.
Her wings beat once, twice—gold and violet flaring as she rose above the front line. Xyren's hard-light lattice snapped into place, angling the approach, forcing the sentries into a narrow choke they hadn't chosen.
Kael went in.
One step. One cut. One outcome.
His blade flashed minimal arcs that ended fights before they looked like fights. A wrist severed. A joint locked. A core punctured. The statues fell apart with the dignity of machines that had never believed in mercy.
Elaris dove behind him, wings folding tight before exploding outward. The shockwave tore through the back rank, tipping their formation off-script. Stone cracked. Light screamed.
For a moment-
They were winning.
Then the sky darkened by a shade.
Nyvrix arrived the way night arrives—without warning, and then all at once.
They stood on the palace balcony above, silhouette sharper here, narrower. Not a scythe.
A needle.
"Almost," Nyvrix said calmly."Almost enough to deserve the next room."
A pressure swept through the courtyard.
Soundless. Boneless.
The fallen sentries reset.
Obsidian flowed backward into place. Joints realigned. Weapons lifted again. The sky dimmed further, stars folding away as if embarrassed to watch.
The palace doors opened.
Not outward.
Inward.
Like a mouth remembering how to smile.
Elaris felt it before it touched her.
Not wind.
A decision.
The force wrapped around her wings, her spine, her breath—and lifted her cleanly from the ground. No struggle. No resistance allowed.
"Elaris!" Kael lunged.
Too late.
Xyren fired a tether—hard-light screaming as it caught nothing but air.
The pull intensified.
Elaris was dragged across the threshold, boots scraping sparks against obsidian. She twisted midair, wings flaring uselessly as the doors began to close.
She met Kael's eyes.
Clear. Unafraid.
"I'm not your key," she said, voice cutting clean through the chaos.
Nyvrix's answer followed her into the dark.
"You are my hinge."
The doors slammed shut.
The sound echoed like coins dropped onto stone—once, twice, and then gone.
Silence fell hard.
The balcony above was empty.
Kael stood very, very still.
Then he stepped forward, pressed his thumb to the seam between the palace doors, and traced the hairline gap like a promise carved into stone.
His smile, when it came, held no warmth.
"We go through."
Xyren swallowed, eyes fixed on the door that had taken her."And if it only opens for her?"
Kael didn't look away.
"Then we take the wall."
The palace had chosen its hinge.The storm was about to learn what it cost to take her.