Kael's POV:
The chill of the early morning air settled into every broken bone and every torn muscle.
I could hear my own slow and irregular heartbeat thumping like a dying drumbeat echoing in a cavern.
My eyes fluttered open to a world smeared in shades of blue, illuminated by tiny rays of the morning sun, sputtered as if it too were holding its breath.
Above me, was a portal revealing the cracked concrete and shattered streetlights from the street I fought Arla earlier.
The pain that rang through my body was like a chorus of jagged notes.
I tried to move but to no avail.
"Hold still." A voice whispered, melodic yet urgent.
"You're not healed yet."
A soft, rhythmic thump resonated through the debris.
Thump‑thump. Thump‑thump. A steady beat, warm against my back.
I turned my head, the world tilting, and I saw a pair of sapphire‑blue wings folded around me, their feathers shimmering like shattered ice.
The figure's face was hidden behind a cascade of a mask and midnight hair, but I could feel those soft, amber, yet unfamiliar eyes. They were studying me.
"You're.... you're a demon..." I trailed off weakly. My eyes still focused on those wings.
Why did this person save me?
The question slowly crept into my mind.
° ° °
Unknown POV
I cradled Kael's broken form, my wings wrapping around him like a cocoon.
Both of his hands were pulsing faintly. The left with a red glow, and the right a cold blue.
Their power surged intermittently, stitching flesh, knitting bone, but it was a slow, painful process. It was like he was split in half by the power, half of his body consumed by red strings, and the other by blue strings.
Every pulse sent a ripple of excruciating heat through his nerves, then a numbing cold that made my own breath hitch.
I glanced at the shattered street through a portal. The silence was oppressive, broken only by distant sirens and some humans doing what they call an 'investigation'. A sign that says 'DANGER' was placed everywhere.
"Hold still." I whispered immediately after I noticed Kael's body moving.
"You're not healed yet."
"You're... you're a demon..." Kael's voice was a rasp, barely audible. "Who…who are you? And why did you save me?"
I turned my head, letting my hair fall back, revealing a mask.
"There's no need to know my name." I said, looking him right in the eyes.
"I'm… the keeper of the red box. I was drawn to you by the resonance of the red box. I can't heal you, but I can quicken the process, thereby anchoring your soul here before it slips into the void."
I placed a hand over his chest, feeling the frantic thump of his heart sync with the pulse of the red and blue lights emanating from the boxes.
A gentle hum rose, weaving through his shattered ribs, mending them just enough to let him breathe.
"At least let me in a little details," he uttered, his voice still weak.
I was amused. Even in his condition he's still persisting on knowing who I am.
"Well, if you say so."
>Flashback, 400 years ago<
A cavern lit by crystalline veins of luminescent ore. A throne of bone, a crown of shattered stars. A voice, deep and resonant.
"When the time arrives, a mortal will bear two fragments from the triple fragments of doom. Protect him, for his fate is the balance between Light and Abyss."
I bowed, wings folding, and swore the oath.
Ages passed, the promise buried under layers of war and silence.
Until tonight, when the red box opened and its power called my name.
>Back to Present<
Kael's eyes flickered, focus sharpening.
"Arla… he… he mentioned Gargaloth. What is that?"
I sighed, the weight of centuries pressing on my shoulders.
"Gargaloth is the realm for supernatural beings where demons, beasts and all kind of abnormal creature resides. If Arla wants you to go there, it's because he either wants you to die or to become a pawn."
A cold wind brushed past, carrying with it the faint scent of ozone and ash. The ground trembled faintly; the city from the portal still buzzing with investigators investigating the battle that had just unfolded.
"Can you walk?" I asked, offering my hand. My wings shifted, casting a protective shadow over him.
Kael tried to sit up, wincing as his broken ribs grated. He clenched his left fist.
Almost immediately a surge of red and blue light burst outward, momentarily blinding us both. When the light receded, he could stand on his feet.
"It's… not stable," he muttered, voice steadier now.
"I can feel it… the power. It's… consuming me."
I nodded.
"The Fragments are a conduit. They draw from your life force. If you don't learn to control them, they'll tear you apar..."
A distant deep, guttural roar, reverberated through the air, cutting me off.
A silhouette appeared on a rooftop, wings unfurling, eyes twin abysses.
"Looks like you have a choice, Kael," it whispered.
"Run, and survive, or stay, and maybe die trying to get revenge."
Kael's gaze hardened. He lifted his newly formed hand, the red blade of incandescent fire flickering into existence, while a cold blue edge shimmered at his side.
"I've been dead since Elara died," he said with annoyance. "And also, who the hell are you?"
The voice from above continued.
"Pathetic. You think a broken mortal can survive what's coming?"
"I don't care." Kael said with anger in his voice.
I smiled with a mix of sorrow and pride.
"I see. Then let's carve a way to Gargaloth."
In that instant the silhouette surged toward us in a torrent of blue flames. Before I could react, it was already inside Kael, with the force sweeping him off his feet.
"He's a keeper of the fragments, drawn here by the resonance of the blue box. While I'm the one to guide you, he's the one set out to destroy you, your nemesis." I whispered, pulling Kael to his feet.
We have a long way to go. We really do.
° ° °
Zephara's POV:
The sky folded back into darkness as Arla's massive black wings sliced through the clouds, each beat sending a ripple of cold wind that made the city's neon flicker. He appeared in the middle of the chamber where I was seated with Malakor, playing cards.
Malakor's crimson eyes burned with a mixture of amusement and impatience. His green‑flamed swords crossed on his lap. He dropped his cards.
Arla's boots struck the black marble, with step echoing like a drumbeat of war.
"Malakor, Zephara." He calledf out with his voice edged with surprise. "You're still here."
Malakor's grin widened, his teeth flashing like knives. He rose in a fluid motion, the flames licking his blades flickering brighter.
"Arla," he tilted his head, voice smooth as silk. "I could ask you the same. Did you… finish him?"
A flicker of anger crossed Arla's green eyes. He crossed the distance in a blink, stopping a breath away from Malakor. The air between them crackled with suppressed power.
"He's not dead."
Arla's words were clipped with each syllable hitting like a hammer.
Malakor's laughter rang out, sharp and unexpected. He stepped forward, the green fire on his swords casting eerie shadows on Arla's scarred cheek.
"You let a human survive a strike that should have cleaved a mountain. You're losing your edge, brother."
Arla's wings twitched with a ripple of black feathers spilling a faint, oily darkness.
"Don't call me brother," he snarled.
An uncomfortable silence settled in between them.
"You were the one who gave him the red box, weren't you."
Malakor's smile vanished, replaced by a cold calculation.
"Yes, I gave him the box," he admitted.
"But he also had the blue...."
"I know." Arla interrupted him.
"Seems like Vrythlok has made his move already."
"Maybe you should've ended him."
"You and I know that I don't finish off my opponent if he or she is on the floor. And also two of the triple fragments choosed him. If I had killed him, the balance would shift. I need him alive, for now."
Malakor lifted a hand, and a thin filament of green energy coiled around Arla's throat, not tightening, just… reminding.
I sat in silence, watching both weirdos.
"Alive, yes. But not whole." Malakor's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The Voidborne Pact. You know what they do. If he reaches Gargaloth, Vrythlok will turn him into a weapon, one we can't control."
Arla's jaw clenched. The scar on his cheek, where Kael's blood had marked him, burned like a brand.
"He's a pawn. A means to an end. I will crush him if it gets to that stage and I will bring his heart to Vrythlok myself."
Malakor's eyes glowed brighter, the green flames dancing in sync with his amusement.
"Kael…" he whispered, the name tasting like ash. "Fuck revenge, you should have died."
"Enough!" Arla roared, the sound shattering a nearby column into dust.
"You forget your place, Malakor. I decide who dies and who lives. If Kael survives and gets to Gargaloth, it is because the prophecy still needs him. And if you ever question my resolve again, I will carve the heart from your chest and feed it to the Void."
A tense silence fell. The flames on Malakor's swords dimmed, his shoulders slumping just a fraction. He bowed his head, a gesture of feigned respect.
"Forgive me, my king," his voice was smooth again, bathed in sarcasm.
"Though I only wish to see the prophecy fulfilled. Kael must not fall into the wrong hands. He will bring ruin, or salvation. Either way, we must be ready."
"Patience, Malakor." I spoke up for the first time since he arrived.
"The pieces are moving. The human's survival was… inevitable. He's already consumed by revenge. There's a possibility he'll die trying to get it. Either way, Vrythlok will still wage the war.".
"Make sure it's the former," he raised a hand, and a vortex of black wind swirled around him.
"If Kael steps into Gargaloth, I will be waiting. And this time, there will be no mercy."
A soft, almost imperceptible chuckle erupted from my throat.
"Sure."
Arla sighed.
"Don't touch my prey."
He turned, his gaze sweeping the hall.
"Where's Zarynth?"
"I haven't seen her since last night, same with Leisa." I answered.
"Let's hope it's not what I'm thinking. Prepare the legion. I need to visit Leisa's father." Arla's voice was cold and detached.
Malakor smirked, the green fire flaring once more.
"As you command."
He vanished in a burst of emerald smoke, leaving Arla and me alone in the chamber.
* * * * *