The skies above the Dominion were gray and brooding. Clouds thickened over the spire-studded skyline, and the air crackled faintly with compressed aether—an unspoken signal that something powerful had been disturbed… or suppressed.
Kaen stood at the edge of the central tower's courtyard, watching the runed pillars rise into the stormy heavens like jagged teeth. He recognized the design, the arcane lattice beneath the earth—he had helped build it once.
Now, he walked through its shadow as a guest. A monitored guest.
A ghost in his own house.
---
"He's waiting inside," Althea said, tapping a glyph on her bracer. The stone gate rumbled open, revealing a crescent-shaped chamber bathed in blue sigil light. The floor shimmered with protective enchantments; the walls hummed softly with memory-bound wards.
At its center stood a single figure.
An old man with silver hair draped in pitch-black robes. An ornate golden circlet hovered just above his head, surrounded by spiraling runes. He was hunched, his body aged—but his presence was a storm contained in a fragile shell.
Grand Arcanist Seravin Korr.
One of the last living founders of the modern Dominion arcane order. One of the witnesses to Kaen's execution.
> "Kaen Valcarys," he rasped, his voice like stone grinding against time.
"I should have killed you myself back then—not merely signed the order."
Kaen didn't flinch.
> "You couldn't."
> "And now… I'm here."
---
Seravin waved his hand.
The runes on the walls flared, and the chamber dimmed. Sound vanished beyond its boundary.
> "This conversation is off record. Even the Council won't hear what we say."
He turned to face Kaen fully.
> "You're not merely dangerous. You are our greatest failure… and our most perfect creation."
Kaen smirked. "Keep talking and I might be flattered."
Seravin didn't smile.
> "We believed the Void couldn't be bound. That it could only be locked away. But you—no… you merged with it. You didn't just survive it. You became its vessel."
> "You're a seam between worlds now."
Kaen stepped forward.
> "And seams can be torn open."
The old Arcanist nodded.
> "I won't stop you."
Kaen blinked. "What?"
> "I'm old. Tired. This Dominion has decayed. The Council is bloated with cowards and puppets."
> "But you… you could break the whole system apart."
> "I want to see it happen."
---
For the first time, Kaen didn't speak immediately.
He searched Seravin's face, expecting manipulation, some deeper trick.
But all he saw was exhaustion—and a dangerous glint of hunger for revolution.
> "If you mean it…" Kaen said slowly, "then help me rebuild my old network."
> "I don't need the Council's blessing."
> "I need access."
Seravin gave a faint nod.
> "The Black Academy's lower wings remain sealed. Officially shut down after your case. But the reality is… your work is still intact."
> "Take it back."
> "Quietly."
---
That night.
Kaen donned a cloak of Void-forged threads, a living shadow woven from his own power. It clung to him like mist, silencing his presence entirely.
He moved through underground halls beneath the Arcanist Tower, guided not by a map—but memory.
Every step echoed through old corridors where forgotten sins still lingered.
The air grew cold.
Damp.
Familiar.
A rusted iron gate stood at the end of the hall, half-buried in roots and rune-scars.
Engraved above it:
> Facility K-XIV – Forbidden Tier: Cursed Constructs
He pressed one hand to the gate.
The Void recognized him.
The door opened.
---
Inside, the laboratory was preserved like a tomb.
Dark crystals hummed weakly. Broken constructs lined the walls. Tanks filled with half-formed life flickered dimly.
And then, a voice spoke.
> "You've returned."
A shadow moved.
From the far corner emerged a humanoid figure nearly seven feet tall, wrapped in black cloth and etched with glowing Void runes along its arms and neck. Its eyes—glassy, reflective—focused immediately on Kaen.
> "Reven," Kaen said.
> "It's been a long time."
The construct bowed.
> "Your soul disappeared from the aether stream. I assumed… the worst. But I remained. I kept the lab intact. As you instructed."
Kaen nodded once.
> "It's time to revive Project Black Sun."
---
Elsewhere in the Dominion, in a hidden council chamber accessed only through private dimensional gateways, cloaked figures gathered around a black obsidian table.
A scroll was tossed onto the center.
One of them unfurled it. Read it aloud.
> "Valcarys is alive. Interrogated. Cleared. Granted access to former installations."
Silence.
Then—chuckling.
Dry. Cruel.
> "They welcomed the devil back into the palace."
> "Good."
> "It will be easier to cut off the serpent's head once it believes it's been forgiven."
> "Let him grow. Then gut him from within."
---
Back in the lab.
Kaen stood before a flickering projection—an energy map of the surrounding territories. Pulse beacons flared in different regions, indicating magical disturbances.
Reven activated the display, its fingers flying across the sigil panels.
> "Three major Void anomalies in the last two months."
> "Two in the north. One in the west."
Kaen pointed at one pulse.
> "Send a scout construct to this location. If a Voidspawn has emerged… I'll absorb it."
Reven nodded.
> "Shall I activate the sleeper avatars?"
Kaen's eyes glinted.
> "All of them."
> "I want at least one fully synchronized Void Avatar within the week."
He turned away, voice low.
> "The Dominion believes they can direct me."
> "Let them believe it."
> "Until the currents shift—because I'm the one moving the tide."
---