Elemantel

Betrayed by his kingdom. Cursed by the gods. Kieran Valcrest, once the greatest champion of the Dominion, was cast into the Abyss—a prison for the forsaken. For a thousand years, he suffered in darkness, hunted by eldritch horrors and ancient beings beyond mortal comprehension.

But he did not break. He did not die. He evolved.

Now, the Abyss has released him, and he returns as something far beyond human—a being feared by gods, kings, and even death itself. The world has changed, yet the corruption that doomed him still festers in the heart of empires.

Armed with the Shadow Sovereign’s Mantle, a power that devours fate itself, Kieran walks the path of vengeance. Monarchs, deities, and celestial forces move against him, but none understand the truth—he is no longer their pawn. He is their reckoning.

In the game of gods and kings… the Forsaken Sovereign bows to none.

Shadow Monarch: The Forsaken Sovereign

Far beyond the mortal realm, above the shattered veil of reality, the Ethereal Pantheon observed in silence.

A coliseum of gilded constellations and astral flame stretched endlessly in the void. Thrones forged from celestial energy stood at the center, each occupied by a divine being—the gods of Eidryn.

And they had just felt something that should not exist.

At the head of the Pantheon sat Solmiras, the Radiant Arbiter. His golden eyes gleamed beneath his celestial crown, his presence alone enough to set entire worlds ablaze.

Yet, tonight, his gaze was shadowed with concern.

Before him, a projection of the mortal world flickered—a ruined alley in Solvador where seven assassins had fallen.

The Forsaken Sovereign had returned.

To his right, Vaelira, the Celestial Warden, spoke first. Her form flickered between flesh and divine flame, her voice a melodic whisper that could calm storms or command armies.

A god's decree was absolute. The Forsaken One had been cast out. His power severed. His fate sealed.

To the left, Oridros, the Keeper of Balance, merely sighed, adjusting his blindfold. "And yet, here we are."

And now, retribution was inevitable.

Solmiras exhaled. "The Rift is shifting. His power is returning. If we do nothing, he will claim what was lost."

Vaelira's flames flickered. "Then we act."

But Oridros—the only god who never spoke in haste—muttered, "No."

He sat still, expression unreadable. "We watch."

Vaelira narrowed her gaze. "You suggest we do nothing?"

Oridros smirked. "Not nothing. We prepare."

His fingers traced the air, weaving a vision of what was to come. The Forsaken Sovereign was no longer a lost king in exile.

And the gods had yet to understand the true scale of their mistake.

Back in Solvador, high above the imperial city, Lucian Ardentis sat in silence.

Seven of the empire's finest. Seven of his personal executioners.

The assassin's token lay before him on his desk—Veydris's broken eyepatch.

Lucian's fingers tightened. The Forsaken One…

A shadow flickered in the corner of the room.

A masked figure kneeled. Their voice was careful. "Your Majesty, the city is restless. The nobles demand retribution. The council—"

Even the assassin stopped breathing.

The emperor's golden eyes burned like the sun itself as he whispered, "They demand?"

A single pulse of power—and the assassin collapsed, gasping for air.

Lucian's patience was not infinite.

The room remained deathly silent as he exhaled. "Send word to the High Inquisitors. If the Forsaken One thinks he can return to my empire—"

He crushed Veydris's eyepatch in his grip.

"—then I will remind him why he was forsaken."

Far beyond mortal eyes, in the deepest abyss where light itself refused to exist, something stirred.

A being that had once been forgotten opened its eyes.

And they had felt something familiar.

Chapter 5 – The Gods Stir