The wind screamed across the shattered cliffs of the Skyreach Plateau.
Kael stood barefoot at the edge of the storm-torn mesa, lightning spiraling from his fingertips, his breath sharp and ragged. Each inhale drew in not just air—but raw, unbound aether. The Thundercore within him pulsed like a second heart, resonating with the storm itself. Above him, thunderheads churned unnaturally, drawn to him like birds to a rising thermal.
He was close. So close to the next stage.
But the trial wasn't done.
A voice, old and crackling like dry parchment soaked in stormwater, echoed from the sky:
"To hold dominion over storm and sky, you must withstand the fury of your own soul."
The aether around Kael snapped—and from the clouds descended a massive form: a Storm Wyrm, conjured from his own elemental core. Towering and translucent, its body coiled with lightning runes, it was not just a beast—it was Kael's own doubt and rage given form.
Kael gritted his teeth. "So that's how this ends."
He drew his spear, Aethercall, and sprinted into the cyclone.
Elsewhere — Ashenreach City
Alaric leaned against the broken outer wall of the city, his armor scorched and a thin cut across his brow bleeding into his eye. The Voidbinders had vanished into the smoke, leaving only ash and broken sigils behind. But the damage wasn't just physical—the public trust in the Council was crumbling, and worse, the Voidbinders had proven they could slip through even divine-tier wards.
Lysera arrived beside him, brushing soot from her cheek. "No casualties among the civilians. We held the line."
"That wasn't a real attack," Alaric said quietly, gaze fixed on the retreating black mist. "It was a message."
She nodded. "Vaelion."
Alaric's fingers curled. "I've fought Tyrants, Titans, rogue Lords… but that thing... It didn't fight like a man. It fought like something with nothing to lose."
Lysera looked at him, eyes glinting softly. "And how do we win against something like that?"
Alaric exhaled slowly. "We don't beat him with brute force. We use what he never will—hope, loyalty... friends who fight beside us."
Back in the Skyreach Trial
Kael's lungs burned. His spear clashed with the Storm Wyrm's jaws again and again, but for every strike he landed, it answered with the fury of a maelstrom. His body was failing—but his spirit held.
He remembered Alaric's words weeks ago:
"Power isn't just about control. It's about purpose."
His body surged with pain—but his core… his Thundercore began to shift.
Not grow.
Refine.
The storm around him pulsed and inverted. For the first time, the Wyrm hesitated.
"I see it now," Kael whispered. "This power was never mine to force. It's mine to balance."
The final bolt struck—not against the Wyrm, but from within him. A scream of thunder echoed, and the Wyrm dissolved, returning to Kael as streams of brilliant white lightning.
He rose slowly, spear in hand. The winds calmed. The trial had ended.
Kael had awakened the Full Thundercore.
Transition — The Gathering Storm
Far beneath the ruined city of Elaren, Vaelion stood before an altar carved from obsidian bone, runes glowing red with Titan blood. Maeryn stood nearby, her features more warped than before—her eyes now fully black, her body shrouded in coiling essence.
"You lost to Alaric," Vaelion said, tone void of judgment.
"I retreated," she replied coldly. "There's a difference."
Vaelion stepped forward. "Next time, there won't be."
Above them, the void gate stirred. The true war hadn't even begun.
End of Chapter 41