The chamber trembled as Kol's Black Thunder descended upon the molten beast. The spear of pure destruction struck with the force of a thousand storms, piercing straight through the monster's chest.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
An explosion of black lightning and infernal fire tore through the room. The shockwave sent rubble crashing down from the ceiling, shaking the very foundation of the estate. The beast roared in agony as its molten body cracked, the liquid fire within it spilling like blood. Its horns shattered, and its once-glowing eyes dimmed as the flames flickered violently.
And yet—it did not fall.
The monster, though wounded, laughed.
A deep, guttural sound, filled with a primal hunger. Its shattered form began to regenerate, the cracks in its magma-flesh sealing as hellfire surged back into place.
Kol landed lightly, his expression unreadable, but his fists clenched at his sides.
"This thing..." Orin muttered, appearing beside Valen. "It's not dying."
"No," Valen growled. "It's feeding on the flames."
Elizabeth's eyes darkened. "Then we don't let it."
Before she could act, Dain charged again. He roared, a war cry shaking the room, and plowed into the beast with all his might. His fists, each blow carrying the weight of a mountain, slammed into the monster's ribs, sending molten chunks flying.
The beast staggered, but this time, it struck back.
With inhuman speed, it caught Dain's arm mid-swing and twisted.
Crack.
Dain howled in pain as his arm bent unnaturally. The monster's molten claws tore into his flesh, burning deep. Before it could finish the job, a silver chain wrapped around its throat—Valen's doing.
"Orin—now!"
In a blink, Orin teleported behind the monster, daggers gleaming. He drove them deep into the base of its skull. Dark energy surged—the twin blades crafted to cut through immortal flesh.
The beast spasmed. Its laughter stopped.
Kol's eyes gleamed.
It was now or never.
With a single step, he vanished—reappearing above the creature. His hands crackled with Black Thunder, but this time, the power was concentrated, refined into one final attack.
"Fall."
Kol's voice was death itself.
His attack landed directly where Orin's blades had struck, tearing through its core.
The beast's molten body convulsed. The flames in its chest dimmed.
Then, with a final, guttural snarl, it collapsed, its body breaking apart into embers—defeated.
Silence followed.
Only the distant crackling of lingering flames remained.
Then—a slow, mocking clap.
Kol turned, his breath steady despite the battle.
The witches stood at the far end of the chamber. The head witch, a woman cloaked in deep crimson, smiled.
"Impressive," she murmured. "I see why our master is so interested in you."
Kol's eyes narrowed.
"I'm done with your games," he growled. "you can't control me ."
She tilted her head, amused. " you are just a tool. Nothing more."
Then, she revealed the truth.
That Kol's entire life, his suffering, his family's downfall—all of it—was planned.
That the prophecy was a lie, a fabrication meant to keep him on a path of pain and power.
That Lisa's divine blood was never meant to stop him—but to complete the ritual.
That Kol was never destined to be a king—only a vessel.
A vessel for their master.
The Devil himself.
Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Elizabeth, standing beside Kol,. Dain, Orin, and Valen stood frozen, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
They had hunted their own brother.
For a thousand years, they had fought to kill him.
All because of a lie.
And the witches—they smiled.
Kol stood still.
For the first time in centuries—he did not know what to say.