A Name, A New Fate

Stormbringer looked at the brothers, the weight of his past pressing against him like a phantom. His name was no longer his. He needed something new—something that was his own, not tied to the forgotten legend of a fallen god.

He took a slow breath and spoke.

"Call me Kael."

A name simple yet sharp. A name unburdened by history.

The elder brother nodded as if accepting the change. "Kael, huh? Well, you'll need a lot more than a new name to survive in this world."

The younger brother grinned. "At least you don't look like some ancient ghost anymore."

Kael glanced between them. "And you? Who are you two?"

The elder brother straightened, his expression serious. "I'm Darian. This is my younger brother, Ren. We're treasure hunters… or, at least, we were, until we stumbled onto you."

Ren smirked. "Yeah, we were expecting gold and relics, not a half-dead legend coming back to life."

Kael exhaled, the weight of his transformation settling in. He had no power, no allies, and no place in this world.

But that could change.

For the first time in centuries, he was free.

And Malachai's world would soon learn the storm had not truly died, it only sleeps.

The wooden planks of the ship creaked beneath Kael's weight as he settled onto a bench below deck. The gentle rocking of the sea was unfamiliar after so long entombed in stone. Darian and Ren sat across from him, their expressions expectant.

"You talk like you knew the world before," Darian said, arms crossed. "What was it like?"

Kael exhaled, leaning back against the ship's hull. "It was… different," he muttered. "The heavens were whole. The angels were just. The world had order." His golden eyes darkened. "But that was before."

Ren frowned. "Before what?"

Kael's jaw tightened. "Before Malachai. Before the corruption took hold."

The brothers exchanged glances.

"You mean the angels are corrupt?" Darian asked.

Kael nodded. "They were once protectors. Now? They rule from above, twisting justice into control. They abandoned mercy for power. And the world below?" He shook his head. "It has withered under their watch."

Ren leaned forward. "Then why were you sealed away?"

Kael's fingers grazed the scar on his chest. Because I stood against them. And they killed me for it.

Instead, he simply said, "Because I was a threat."

Darian exhaled sharply. "Well, you're back now. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Kael stared out the small window, watching the distant storm clouds swirl on the horizon.

"I'm going to make them remember."

The ship cut through the dark waters, the salty wind howling through the sails. Below deck, the lantern's flickering light cast long shadows as Darian leaned forward, his voice grim.

"You're right," he admitted. "The world isn't what it used to be. The angels? They don't protect anyone but themselves anymore."

Ren scoffed. "They sit in their floating citadels, untouched by war, while the people suffer. Kingdoms rise and fall under their watch, and they don't lift a damn finger—unless it benefits them."

Kael's fingers drummed against the wooden bench, his thoughts storming. He had suspected it, but hearing it confirmed still sent a bitter taste through his mouth.

Darian hesitated, then added, "And Lyra… she's gone."

Kael's gaze snapped to him. "What?"

Ren nodded grimly. "Disappeared. Some say she abandoned the angels. Others think she was taken out—made to vanish because she wouldn't fall in line."

Kael's grip tightened. Lyra. The only one who had stood by him. The only one who had believed in him.

The storm inside him churned. If she was still alive, she was in danger. If she was dead… then the last ember of true justice among the angels had been snuffed out.

Darian studied him carefully. "If she's still out there, what are you gonna do?"

Kael looked past them, out toward the vast, open sea.

"I'm going to find her."