The Throned Valley was unlike anything Kael had ever seen.
Carved between mountains like twin daggers, it held seven towering stone thrones—each weathered by time, each cracked, empty, and veiled in ivy. It was a forgotten place, a graveyard for monarchs who never ruled.
According to Vaerion, it was once the seat of the God-Kin—ancient rulers who bent the world to their will before the seals were formed.
Now, it was the resting place of the Third Seal.
And the cult had gotten there first.
Their journey into the valley began through a crumbling trail of statues with broken faces and shattered limbs. As they descended, a strange sensation filled the air—pressure, like thunder held in suspension.
Seraphine's hand found Kael's.
He turned toward her. "If something happens…"
"I'll fight," she said. "Even if the world cracks."
Ahead, Vaerion stiffened. "We're not alone."
Kael nodded. He felt it too.
Voices. Low, reverent. Chanting in a language he almost understood.
"Raezriel… Raezriel… Flame that devours…"
Kael froze.
"They're saying my name," he whispered.
Seraphine's grip tightened.
They found the worshipers near the base of the valley—cloaked figures in crimson and gold, kneeling before a black altar that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Behind them stood a man in a tattered wolfskin cloak, wearing a mask carved from bone. His voice was sharp and smooth.
"We welcome the Child of Flame," he said, arms outstretched as Kael stepped from the shadows.
"I didn't come for worship," Kael growled. "I came to stop you."
The man tilted his head. "But Raezriel… this was always your destiny. You were born to ignite the end."
And then he spoke it.
Loudly.
Clearly.
"RAEZRIEL."
The valley cracked.
The ground trembled. Screams erupted. The sky itself split like torn silk.
One of the ancient thrones crumbled completely, revealing a core of molten crystal. Red lightning exploded from it, lashing out in all directions.
Kael fell to his knees, clutching his head as pain—pure and consuming—tore through his skull.
Visions.
Flames devouring cities.
Shadows rising with his name on their lips.
A woman cloaked in smoke, her smile curving like a scythe.
Ashmira.
She appeared in the fire.
"The third seal has fallen, beloved prince. Now the true war begins."
Seraphine ran to Kael, shielding him from a bolt of fire.
Vaerion threw his sword, impaling the masked cultist before he could speak the name again.
But it was too late.
The damage was done.
The altar pulsed one final time—and opened.
From within, something slithered out.
A creature of smoke and molten gold, its mouth stretching far too wide, teeth like glass daggers, eyes twin eclipses. It shrieked—an unholy sound that rattled bone.
Kael stood, fire crackling in his eyes, his power surging like never before.
The creature lunged.
Kael met it head-on.
Their clash ignited an explosion of fire and light that lit up the entire valley.
Aftermath and Revelation
When the light faded ,the creature was gone. Ash. Glass. Silence.
Kael stood in the crater, chest heaving, flames flickering across his back like wings.
Seraphine approached slowly, eyes wide. "Your power… it's changing."
"I know," he whispered.
He looked down at his hands. The veins glowed gold now. The mark on his back—his birthright—had fully revealed itself: a burning crest of a crowned flame.
Vaerion joined them, grim.
"Three seals remain."
Kael nodded.
"And they know who I am now."
He turned toward the shattered valley, heart heavy.
"They'll come for me."
Seraphine stepped beside him.
"Then let them try."