The Aftermath of a Fallen King
The battlefield lay in ruin. Smoke and embers twisted through the air, the stench of burnt flesh and destruction suffocating the land. Where once Owen had stood—the erased legend, the First Demon King—now there was only a hollowed corpse, his lifeless form sprawled across the shattered earth. His reign had ended.
But something was wrong.
Kol stood over Owen's body, his fingers tightening around the still-beating heart he had torn from his enemy's chest. Black Thunder coiled around his arm, pulsing, alive. The energy within Owen's heart called to him—a power greater than anything he had ever known.
The witches, hidden in the shadows, watched in eerie silence. Their mission was complete. The prophecy had unfolded exactly as they had foreseen. One must devour the other.
And Kol had chosen to eat.
Slowly, he raised the heart to his lips.
And then—
A violent tremor erupted beneath his feet. His body jerked forward as a massive force surged through him, a pain unlike anything he had ever known. His veins burned as if molten fire had replaced his blood. The very air around him twisted, distorting reality itself.
The power of the First Demon King was forcing its way into his soul.
Kol's head snapped back, his mouth opening in a silent scream as black lightning shot out of his body, cracking the sky apart. His vision blurred—he saw the past, the present, and something beyond.
A dark throne.
Chains of fate.
A voice whispering his name.
"You are the heir."
"You are the rightful king."
Kol's knees buckled. His grip on Owen's heart faltered for the briefest moment—but that moment was all his siblings needed.
The Last Stand of the Siblings
A blur of motion.
Dain's massive form thundered toward him, his colossal fist crashing down with the force of a meteor. Kol barely twisted away, but the shockwave alone sent him skidding back.
Orin and Valen moved as one, their twin abilities striking in perfect sync. Infernal chains wrapped around Kol's arms, burning into his flesh with demonic energy. Before he could react, Orin teleported in front of him, his blade flashing toward Kol's throat.
Kol's instincts roared to life.
Black Thunder erupted from his body, shattering the chains and sending Orin hurtling backward. Valen's chains lashed toward him again, but Kol caught them midair and yanked, pulling Valen forward. Before the twin could react, Kol's fist crashed into his chest, sending him crashing through the ruins.
But then—
A golden light exploded behind him.
Elizabeth.
Her divine energy clashed against his dark aura, pushing him back step by step. Her golden eyes burned with unshaken resolve.
"You're losing yourself, Kol."
Her voice was calm, but her grip on the light-forged swords in her hands was anything but.
Kol smirked. His voice was not his own anymore—too deep, too layered, too monstrous.
"I am becoming who I was meant to be."
Then she attacked.
Twelve golden blades materialized in the air around her and shot toward him at impossible speeds. Kol dodged five, blocked four—but the last three speared through him. One through the shoulder. One through his side. One dangerously close to his heart.
He barely flinched.
Instead, he grinned.
Elizabeth's expression hardened. She raised her hand for another strike—
But then a new presence ripped into reality.
Lisa's Desperate Gamble
A blinding flash of blue light erupted between them, a teleportation spell forming in an instant.
Lisa.
Bloodied. Weak. Barely standing.
But she was fast.
She moved before Elizabeth or the brothers could react. One second Kol was standing between them—
The next, he was gone.
Vanished.
Elizabeth's golden blades stabbed into empty air.
Dain's fist crashed into nothing.
Orin and Valen twisted, searching, but Lisa had already done what she came for.
The battlefield fell into stunned silence.
Kol was gone.
Lisa had taken him.
The storm that had threatened to consume everything had vanished in the blink of an eye.
The Beginning of the End
The only sound left was the distant rumbling of thunder.
Elizabeth clenched her fists, her expression unreadable.
Kol's brothers stood frozen, their rage simmering just beneath the surface.
And in the shadows, the witches watched, their expressions twisted in satisfaction.
The real war had only just begun.