Kaen didn't stay to answer questions.
At dawn, he left the inn without a word, hood drawn low, footsteps silent on the dew-slick ground. Behind him, villagers peered from windows and doorways, their eyes filled not just with fear—but with understanding.
They had seen what moved in the mist. They had heard the silence shatter. And they knew that whatever Rael Veyron faced that night, it had not come from this world.
So when he vanished into the fog that morning, not a soul tried to stop him.
They were wise.
And Kaen… didn't like killing the innocent.
---
He traveled northeast, where the trees thickened into a forest older than time. The air grew colder. The canopy above formed a ceiling of shadows. Each step was muffled by moss and leaf rot, and the world itself seemed to hold its breath.
No birdsong.
No insects.
Just wind.
And something... watching.
The Void within Kaen was calm now. Fed. Satiated.
But never content.
His mind drifted—not toward vengeance, but memory. He saw faces again. A stone chamber lined with firelight. Robes. Accusations. Betrayal thick in the air like ash.
They called him dangerous. Unpredictable. A weapon that outgrew its master.
So they shackled him. Lied to him. Killed him.
Or so they believed.
> "I still remember every name," he murmured.
"And I will return each judgment… in kind."
He halted beside a towering tree.
Etched into the bark, burned by precise magic, was a warding glyph—a suppression seal meant to deter spiritual entities. Not the work of wild magic.
Structured. Regulated.
> "Academy-grade glyphs. Dominion's reach has grown."
The path twisted ahead, leading to a crumbling arch of stone.
A rusted sign hung nearby:
> PERIMETER OUTPOST – ZONE 3A
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Kaen smiled coldly.
> "Let's knock."
---
The clearing beyond the arch revealed a simple outpost—practical, military, built for speed and defense. Rune-warded walls, darksteel reinforcements, a central command tent. Watchtowers. Sentries.
Six soldiers. Three mages.
Kaen stepped into the open.
Immediately, crossbows clicked.
A proximity rune flared on the ground beneath him.
> "Halt!" shouted a guard. "Identify yourself!"
Kaen raised a hand—slow, unthreatening.
And let a flicker of Void energy bleed from his palm.
Not enough to attack.
Just enough to be felt.
The nearest mage paled.
> "Void signature—class S! Lockdown protocol!"
The trio of mages reacted instantly, forming a containment circle. Light flared, and golden chains of magical force erupted from the air, binding Kaen in place.
He did not resist.
He allowed the chains to wind around him, to drag him to his knees.
Let them think they'd won.
Let them take him inside.
---
The teleportation glyph activated.
Kaen stood calmly in the center as coordinates were recited aloud in the old tongue. Blue-white light engulfed him.
The world blinked.
—
He rematerialized inside a containment cube—walls of translucent crystal laced with antimagic runes. Cold. Stark. Brutally efficient.
Above him, an observation deck.
Several figures watched behind reinforced arcane glass.
Scholars. Officials.
Not soldiers.
> "Void-class anomaly. Energy spike well beyond threshold. The core reading is internal—no artifact detected," one scholar reported.
> "Internal?" another asked. "Is he a host? A bound entity?"
> "Unknown."
Kaen looked up.
He let his Void presence leak ever so slightly—like a scent in the wind. A memory. A warning.
One of them flinched.
Another whispered, "He's not just a caster… he's something else."
A man in ornate robes stepped forward. Floating runes spiraled around his shoulders.
Lord Arcanist Ren Valtheron.
> "State your name," he commanded.
Kaen replied evenly, "Rael Veyron."
> "That is not your real name."
Kaen smiled faintly. "No. But it's the one I earned."
> "You absorbed a Void-class entity without assistance. Explain."
> "Why should I?"
Valtheron's tone sharpened. "Because this facility is under Dominion jurisdiction. We will extract what we need."
Kaen tilted his head.
> "Try."
The lights dimmed.
The sigils on the wall flickered.
The entire cube groaned, not from Kaen's movement—but from the Void stirring inside him.
A scholar stepped back, panicked.
> "Containment field is destabilizing—!"
Kaen's voice dropped.
> "I could unravel this room with a breath."
> "But I won't."
> "Because I want you to take me deeper."
Silence.
Then Valtheron gave the order.
---
Kaen was bound in heavier chains this time—silver-threaded shackles engraved with sealing runes. A dozen guards surrounded him, weapons drawn. Three battle-mages. Two inquisitors.
None of them spoke.
They walked in tense silence through the halls of the central Dominion compound.
Stone corridors. Cold torches. The scent of dust and control.
Kaen's boots echoed with each step.
He could feel it—beneath the surface. The Dominion Nexus. Where power converged. Where old enemies still ruled.
Where they thought themselves safe.
> Not for long.
They reached a massive chamber—the High Tribunal.
Twelve seats arranged in a crescent. Banners of old noble lines. Floating sigils.
And at the center seat…
A man in gold.
Hair white. Eyes stern.
Above his head, a silver halo of rotating glyphs.
High Inquisitor Varellian.
Kaen stared up at him.
Varellian's eyes narrowed.
> "I know that look," he said slowly.
"I've seen those eyes before."
Kaen said nothing.
> "You have committed high treason, forbidden magic absorption, and unlicensed deployment of spiritual-class constructs in civilian territory," the Inquisitor intoned.
> "By Dominion law, your existence is—"
Kaen interrupted.
> "—governed by the same law that burned its champions alive for convenience?"
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
Varellian stood. His voice cracked.
> "Who are you?"
Kaen's smile turned razor-sharp.
He let his hood fall back.
Let them see.
One Councilor choked.
Another stood in disbelief.
A third dropped to their knees.
> "Kaen… Valcarys."
Time stopped.
Kaen took a step forward.
> "Hello again."
> "Did you really think I would stay dead?"
---
Far to the North. The Black Spire.
A massive tower pierced the clouds.
Inside, the woman with silver hair watched a floating mirror, hands clasped behind her back.
> "He's alive," she murmured.
The figure beside her—hooded, massive—stiffened.
> "Then the seals will break."
> "And when they do," she said, voice soft and sharp,
"we'll see if this world remembers what it tried to forget."
---