Silence hung like a guillotine.
The throne of Malqirion was still vacant… until—
A ripple.
A crack in nothing.
And from the void, laughter spilled like shattered crystal.
Kael turned, eyes narrowed.
"No…"
The air twisted, and from behind the collapsing paradox, Malqirion stepped out—whole. Grinning. His mask gone, revealing a face made of galaxies swirling in reverse.
"Did you really think a Warden of Time's End could die like that?"
The other Throneborne stayed silent. Watching.
Malqirion floated forward, spinning his staff lazily, then leaned close to Kael.
"It was just a joke, little flame. A test. You passed…"
Then, he pointed one shimmering finger at Kael's chest.
"But let's see if your bones can pass."
CRACK.
Kael's body convulsed.
His ribcage exploded inward. His left arm bent backward, folding like paper. His legs crumbled, and blood sprayed into the air in orbits, suspended by Malqirion's will.
"You ascended too fast," Malqirion said, voice echoing across realities. "Did you think it would be easy? That your story was untouchable?"
Kael fell.
Hard.
He slammed into the obsidian arena, bones grinding against broken armor. The Loomheart flickered—dimmed.
For the first time in ages, Kael felt pain that came from outside the threads.
"This," Malqirion whispered, "is a lesson."
And then he vanished—leaving Kael broken, bleeding, and alone.
But the Loomkeeper did not scream.
He lay there, his heart flickering.
He remembered something ancient.
A fire.
A promise.
His lips curled into a bloody grin.
"Lesson received…"
His eyes opened—burning with something new.