Kael'zir fell.
His body was numb, the sound of shattering glass still echoing in his ears. The wind howled around him, bitterly cold, clawing at his limbs, yet he felt none of it. His mind was elsewhere, trapped within a loop of tormenting images: Iskhera’s terrified eyes, the glint of Azael's knife at her throat, her desperate cry frozen on parted lips.
Did that bastard actually kill her?
No. No, it couldn't be. It was impossible—unthinkable. Iskhera was fierce, unyielding. She was life itself, resilient beyond imagining. She couldn't just be gone, erased in a heartbeat by a twisted god playing cruel games.
"Iskhera…" he whispered, the word torn from him by the rushing air, vanishing as quickly as his hope. He would gladly surrender his own existence to spare hers. Every fiber of his being yearned to reverse this, to rise through the air and hurl himself at Azael, to tear apart the heavens themselves if that was what it took.
But he could do nothing.
He fell helplessly, suspended in a haunting, nightmarish stillness, his heart twisted by anguish.
Then—
Everything halted.
Not a collision with the ground, not the obliteration he expected—just an abrupt, surreal stillness. The world around him vanished, replaced by a consuming darkness, boundless and empty. It was the void. A silent, timeless abyss, just like the island, infinite and unsettling.
Kael’zir hung suspended, weightless, his breath caught in his throat.
From the darkness, a faint, silvery glow began to form. The luminance grew, shaping into a figure, becoming solid and defined—a form familiar, yet eternally enigmatic.
Ansel.
He materialized fully before Kael, his form cloaked in a shimmering robe that flowed as though woven from liquid starlight. Ansel's face was ageless, perfectly balanced between strength and compassion, etched with the wisdom of countless eons. His eyes, glowing softly with a warm, ancient amber, carried infinite depth, as though within them spun galaxies upon galaxies, reflections of worlds unseen. His long silver hair cascaded over broad shoulders, shifting gently, stirred by a breeze that existed only around him.
"You fought well, Kael’zir," Ansel’s voice resonated gently, echoing with the serenity of starlight itself. "Reckless, foolish perhaps—but well nonetheless."
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Kael’zir, trembling with frustration and grief, fixed Ansel with a fierce stare, his voice breaking with the weight of unanswered pain. "Who are you, really? No more cryptic riddles, no more half-truths. I need answers, Ansel. Tell me!"
Ansel regarded him with a look of quiet understanding, his serene composure unwavering. "Very well," he finally spoke, voice soft, measured, yet powerful. "I am Ansel, once one of the Vorrdis—beings older than the stars, wanderers of eternity. We were entrusted with the balance of creation, tasked with watching over younger worlds as they evolved, to guide and preserve, never to rule or interfere."
He paused, eyes sorrowful as he spoke again, "But Azael believed otherwise. He led a faction, convinced that our purpose was not merely to guide but to control, to impose order, and rule over lesser worlds, bending them to our will. He saw potential only as something to be harnessed, civilizations as pawns to be moved."
Kael listened intently, his heart still aching, yet his mind sharpening at every word.
"We clashed over ideologies, and our unity fractured. Azael's faction began to enslave worlds, manipulating their histories, embedding lies to keep them controlled. My faction opposed him, fought tirelessly to protect free will, to honor life's natural evolution. Earth, your people, and the Vey’Narii—all were caught in this struggle."
Kael’zir's breath tightened. "And Var'Suun?"
Ansel’s eyes softened. "Var'Suun was once our greatest creation—a guardian entity designed to watch over life, to nurture and guide without interfering. Azael corrupted Var'Suun, erasing its memory and identity, manipulating its purpose. But its essence endured, waiting eons to reawaken, to reclaim its true nature."
Kael swallowed hard, absorbing this revelation. "And me? Why am I here? What am I in all of this?"
Ansel smiled faintly, compassionately, stepping closer, the void around them gently rippling like water. "You, Kael'zir, are a catalyst. You stand at the center of a convergence, poised between two futures—one controlled, one free. You have royal blood within you, the strength of kings, the wisdom of warriors, the compassion of guardians. You embody the choice, the turning point."
"What choice?" Kael demanded urgently. "Tell me!"
Ansel reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kael's shoulder, eyes penetrating, luminous with both hope and caution. "Your story is far from over, Kael'zir, but soon you will have to choose. It will not be easy. You must decide between vengeance and forgiveness, destruction and rebirth. You must choose who you truly are, not who you were made to be."
Kael stared into Ansel's eyes, fear and determination warring within him. "Choose what? Ansel—"
But Ansel was already dissolving, his form fading slowly into stardust. "Your choice will shape the destiny of worlds," his voice echoed softly, trailing into silence. "Choose wisely."
In a heartbeat, Ansel vanished completely, leaving Kael alone in the boundless void. The emptiness faded, replaced suddenly by warmth, sunlight, the scent of salt and sand.
Kael'zir gasped, collapsing onto soft ground. Waves gently lapped around him, cool and comforting. He lifted his head, breathing heavily, feeling sand beneath his fingers.
He was on the island.
Alive.
But Iskhera…
Kael'zir forced himself to his feet, determination burning within him like never before. Ansel's words echoed endlessly in his mind—his choice, the weight of worlds, the destiny of all he held dear.
Clenching his fists, Kael turned toward the heart of the island. His journey was not yet done. His story was far from finished.
And the hardest choice of his life was yet to come.
