Episode 36: Shadows Over Arcland
The wind was different in Arcland now.
Kael stood at the edge of the forest that bordered the ruined expanse where the Black Citadel once stood—a scar on the earth that would take generations to heal. His eyes traced the horizon, where sunlight broke timidly through the clouds, illuminating a land still bearing the wounds of war.
Behind him, the Reclaimers gathered in silence. No cheers. No fanfare. Just the weight of survival.
They had won, yes—but at what cost?
Sylvhar sat with his back against a tree, bandaging a wound that stretched across his ribcage, the edges still glowing faintly from residual cursed mana. Auren rested nearby, hammer planted into the dirt like a gravestone, face grim as he tended to his own injuries. Vaeronth stood alone atop a nearby ridge, golden flames flickering across his back like dying embers. His gaze remained locked on the sky, as if searching for something—an omen, a threat not yet seen.
Seraphine's wings were dim, their usual radiant glow replaced with a tired shimmer. She knelt beside Kael. "The Heart is destroyed," she said softly. "The Titan is gone. And yet… why does it feel like something still lingers?"
Kael didn't answer. Because he felt it too.
It wasn't just the silence—it was the absence of something. As if the world itself was holding its breath. Waiting.
They returned to Arcland's capital two days later, weary and weatherworn. The streets, once teeming with people, were eerily quiet. The commoners peered from windows, wary, unsure whether to hope or hide. Whispers chased the Reclaimers as they passed: stories of the battle, of the Titan, of the return of ancient threats.
And of Kael—the boy who had once been called "unfit," "orphan," "common-born"—now walking as the sword who felled a god.
The High Council summoned them that evening.
The chamber was vast, domed in gold and crystal, where nobles and powerful mages sat on thrones arranged in a circle. At the center, Kael stood with the Reclaimers flanking him.
"Kael of no name," one councilor intoned, her voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "You and your companions defied direct orders. You trespassed into the Black Citadel, destroyed an ancient relic, and unleashed a calamity that nearly swallowed our realm. And now you return—expecting what? Praise?"
Kael's fists clenched.
"Without us," Seraphine said sharply, "Arcland would be ash. The Obsidian Heart was feeding on the realm itself."
"You act as if you understand such ancient things," another councilor sneered. "Children playing at war."
Kael stepped forward. "We did what you refused to do. While you debated in this chamber, we bled in the dark. We stopped something older than your thrones—something you knew was beneath that Citadel and let fester anyway."
A cold silence fell.
From behind the shadows, a new voice spoke.
"Impressive words," said a man in black and silver robes, stepping into the light. His presence was suffocating—tall, lean, with eyes like frozen glass. "But words are not law."
Kael recognized him instantly—Archmage Veyrion, leader of the Council's arcane division. A man whose name was feared even among nobles.
"You've exposed fractures in our world," Veyrion continued. "Do you think the destruction of the Heart went unnoticed? Across the realms, something has awakened. A ripple through the veil. The Covenant of Abyss has gone silent. Sean Kingdom's borders are in chaos. The Giants of Frosthelm stir. And in the east—"
He paused.
"—rumors speak of a gate. One that should have never been found."
Kael's heart sank.
"So what now?" Sylvhar asked. "We just wait for the next disaster?"
"No," Veyrion replied. "You prepare. Because now… the Reclaimers are no longer rogue. By decree of the High Council, you are Arcland's first sanctioned Vanguard Unit—guardians of the veil between this world and what lies beyond."
There was no applause. Just a shift—a realization.
The world was no longer safe.
---
Elsewhere...
In a ruined castle far beyond the known territories, cloaked figures gathered in a circle of black fire. Their leader, face hidden behind a crown of bone, stared into a pool of obsidian liquid.
"The Heart is shattered," he rasped. "But the Gate remains."
The pool shimmered—revealing Kael and his allies standing in the Council Hall.
"Let them believe they've won," the figure whispered. "Let them grow strong. The next trial is not one of shadow—but of truth. And truth… destroys more than any blade."
From behind him, the shadows twisted.
A pair of violet eyes opened.
And smiled.