Chapter 7: The Ruins of the Fallen Spire

The past never stays buried. Some wounds refuse to close.

Kael had always believed that ghosts weren't real.

He was wrong.

The moment they stepped into the Ashen Wastes, the air itself shifted—a subtle, unnatural pressure that made the hairs on his arms rise. It was like stepping through a curtain of something invisible yet suffocating.

The storm overhead flickered, casting brief flashes of red lightning across the wasteland. In the distance, the shattered silhouette of the Fallen Spire loomed, its broken towers stretching toward the sky like the ribs of a long-dead god.

Kael exhaled. "I hate this already."

Lysara, walking beside him, didn't take her eyes off the Spire. "I don't think we should be here."

Kieran was a few steps ahead, his cloak rippling in the dry wind. "Then leave."

Kael scowled. "Great teamwork, as usual."

But no one was leaving.

Because despite the risk—despite every warning whispered in the ruins of the Astral Council—the truth lay ahead of them.

And Kael knew, deep down, that if they turned back now, they would never get another chance to stop this.

They reached the edge of a cracked obsidian bridge that led to the Spire's ruins. It stretched across a deep, black chasm, where the ground itself had been shattered by an explosion of ancient magic.

Kael ran a hand down his face. "Tell me that bridge isn't going to collapse the moment we step on it."

Kieran glanced at him. "I won't lie to you."

"…Fantastic."

Lysara was already stepping onto the bridge, her boots clicking against the smooth stone. It held, but just barely. Kael swore under his breath and followed.

The deeper they moved into the ruins, the louder the silence became.

The air hummed with old power. The kind of power that didn't belong in the hands of mortals.

And then—

A whisper.

Not from Kieran. Not from Lysara.

Not from the storm.

It came from everywhere.

"You should not have come."

Kael froze.

Lysara turned sharply, her fingers already glowing with residual starfire. "Did you hear that?"

Kael nodded. "Yeah."

Kieran didn't react. He just kept walking.

Lysara's brow furrowed. "You're not even concerned?"

"I've been here before," Kieran murmured. "The voices don't stop."

Kael exhaled slowly. "That's comforting."

But the further they went, the worse the whispers became.

"This is his kingdom now."

"You will not leave."

"He sees you."

Kael's grip on his dagger tightened. This wasn't just a ruin.

It was a graveyard.

And something—or someone—was still watching.

Then, suddenly—

Kieran stopped.

Kael almost bumped into him. "What now?"

Kieran didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on something ahead.

Kael followed his line of sight.

At first, he didn't see anything. Just more broken stone, old towers split in half like snapped bones. But then—his breath caught.

Because something was moving.

A figure, standing at the base of a crumbling pillar. Cloaked in silver and black, their face hidden beneath the hood.

Kael's pulse spiked. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Lysara's expression darkened. "It's not a wraith."

Which meant—

The stranger lifted their head.

The hood fell back, revealing a woman with piercing, ice-blue eyes and silver-streaked dark hair. Her face was scarred, but her presence was unyielding.

And Kael knew, instantly, that they had just walked into something far more dangerous than they'd expected.

Because he recognized her.

And so did Lysara.

The Exiled Empress.

Vaeloria Starbane.

Kael's stomach dropped.

Because the last time the empire had seen her, she had been fleeing for her life.

And yet, here she was—waiting for them.

Kieran took a slow step forward, lowering his hood. "You knew we were coming."

Vaeloria's lips curled in a slight, sharp smile. "I was expecting you," she said.

Her voice was calm. Controlled.

And filled with secrets.

Kael exhaled sharply. This was bad.

Because if Vaeloria Starbane had survived the fall of the empire, then that meant she had been watching everything.

And if she had been watching—

Then she knew more about Dain than anyone alive.

Which meant she also knew how to stop him.

Or worse—

How to finish what he started.