The storm came faster than it should have.
Black clouds gathered above the Silver Temple, circling like vultures waiting for something to die. Lightning forked across the sky, painting the ruins in bursts of white and shadow.
Kael stood on the temple's broken archway, his cloak snapping in the wind. His hands still trembled from the fight with the Hunter.
He could feel it — something old, heavy, awake again.
Behind him, Lira tightened her grip on her cloak. "He said the choice was written in your blood. What does that even mean?"
Before Kael could answer, Maelor spoke — his voice as calm as the eye of the storm.
"It means, child, that Kael carries a bond forged before he was ever born. His ancestors did not merely fight dragons…"
He turned, his pale eyes reflecting the lightning.
"They made a deal with one."
Kael froze. "A deal?"
Maelor nodded. "The first of your blood — Arion the Silverhearted — was no hero. He was desperate. His people were dying, the demon wars had begun, and the dragons were fading. So he made a pact — his line would carry the dragon's essence in their veins, bound by oath, until balance was restored."
Lira frowned. "So… Kael's power comes from that?"
"Yes. And that same oath binds him to the darkness as well."
Kael felt the world tilt. His voice cracked. "You mean—"
"That your bloodline is the bridge," Maelor interrupted. "Between flame and shadow. Between the dragons who ruled the skies… and the demons who crawled beneath them."
Kael staggered back. "So no matter what I do… I'm part of both?"
Maelor's tone softened. "Yes. And soon, you will have to decide which side of that blood you serve."
Thunder rolled overhead.
Kael turned away, gripping the edge of the stone wall until it cracked under his hand. "That's not a choice. That's a curse."
Maelor stepped closer, lowering his staff. "All power begins as a curse, Kael. The question is whether you let it chain you… or whether you learn to wear it as armor."
Lira looked between them. "And if he doesn't choose?"
The old man stared into the horizon, where faint shapes moved beneath the clouds — winged, enormous, almost human.
"Then the world will choose for him."
A flash of lightning revealed three dark silhouettes in the distance — figures cloaked in smoke, moving swiftly through the storm.
Maelor's expression hardened. "The next Hunters are here."
Kael turned, fire sparking in his palms. "Then I guess we don't get to rest."
"Rest?" Maelor gave a dry chuckle. "You misunderstand, boy. This is not your next fight."
He lifted his staff. Symbols flared beneath Kael and Lira's feet — glowing silver runes that pulsed like hearts.
"Wait—what are you doing?" Kael demanded.
"Keeping you alive," Maelor said. "You still have lessons to learn. I can't teach a corpse."
The runes flared brighter.
"Maelor!" Lira shouted, reaching out — but the light swallowed her hand.
The last thing Kael saw before the world shattered into white was Maelor's faint smile and a whisper lost in the thunder.
"Find the Flame of Solara. It's the key to ending the oath."
Then — silence.
Kael awoke beneath a crimson sky.
Lira beside him.
And in the distance — a city of glass and fire, rising from the desert sands.