The wind carried the ashes of past battles. As far as the eye could see, fire-blackened ruins stood like the broken bones of a fallen empire. The world had become a perpetual battlefield, where only the strongest—or the most cunning—could hope to survive.

  Kael Vareth adjusted the sheath of his sword with a mechanical gesture. Before him, a still-warm corpse lay sprawled on the dusty ground. A man who, just moments ago, had sworn to kill him. Like so many before him.

  "Promises mean nothing in this world," Kael murmured, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

  Around him, the silence was almost unnatural. The last survivors of the skirmish had vanished, terrified by his mere presence. No surprise—his name alone had become a warning. Kael the Renegade, the former heir of a clan destroyed by his own hand. A man without honor, without faith, serving only steel and betrayal.

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  And yet, a woman awaited him in the shadows.

  Overlooking the scene from the remnants of a collapsed tower, a figure clad in black silk observed him. She was no mere spectator. No, this woman—this princess—was the architect of something far greater. She did not fear him. She desired him.

  "Impressive," she murmured as she slowly descended toward him. "But you are still just a blade without direction."

  Kael raised an eyebrow but did not respond.

  "I offer you a throne, Kael Vareth," she continued. "But to take it, we must burn this world to its very foundations."

  He met her gaze, weighing the weight of her words. A promise of glory, power… and chaos. He knew that striking a bargain with her would mean embracing hell itself.

  But wasn’t that where he had always belonged?

  A predatory smile stretched across his lips.

  "Tell me more."