The Silence Before the Storm
Ethan and Mia stood at the edge of the battlefield, the wind howling through the skeletal remains of what had once been Solmara's grand palace. The ruins smoldered in the distance, tendrils of smoke curling upward into a sky that no longer obeyed nature's laws. Black and violet swirled in chaotic patterns overhead, the Rift's influence bleeding into reality like ink spilled across parchment. The air itself pressed down on them, thick and suffocating, as though the world held its breath, waiting for an inevitable rupture.
And there, at the heart of the desolation, stood Kael.
He was motionless, a dark silhouette against the fractured horizon. His back was turned to them, his once-regal armor now a ruin of its former glory—cracked and blackened, its surface pulsating with veins of shadowy energy that writhed like living things. His sword, the blade that had once symbolized his honor, rested limply at his side, its tip grazing the frozen ground.
