The Emperor's Interrogation
The cell door peeled apart like a ribcage.
Kael blinked against the blinding gold light as the Emperor stepped in—
armor whispering, scripture glowing under his skin like veins of molten glass.
"Kael Voss," the Emperor said, rolling the name across his tongue like a wine he had aged himself.
"My prodigal shadow."
Kael spat blood at his feet.
"I'm nothing of yours."
"On the contrary," the Emperor said, kneeling so they were eye to eye.
"I carved your destiny into the Wound before you ever drew breath."
He grabbed Kael's jaw—hard enough to bruise—with fingers that burned like sanctified iron.
"You think the Abyss chose you?"
A humorless smile.
"You were engineered for it."
Kael's heart stopped.
"What…?"
The Emperor's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Your mother's womb was not nearly strong enough to contain a Devourer. So we replaced it."
Kael felt the world tilt sideways.
The Emperor continued, unconcerned with the way Kael's breath stuttered.
"You were grown in a sanctified vat of Wound-light and Abyssal marrow. A perfect hybrid."
His smile sharpened.
"Half my creation—and half the Abyss's favorite mistake."
Kael jerked back, but the Emperor yanked him closer by the hair.
"You will open the Abyss for me. The true Abyss. Not these scattered Rifts."
Kael bared his teeth.
"I'd rather die."
"That," the Emperor murmured, "is exactly why I brought the other two."
2. Veyra and Seraphine's Imprisonment
Veyra
Veyra Thornblade hung from fourteen restraint chains—each embedded with runes that siphoned her strength.
Every muscle trembled with repressed rage.
Her thorns had been forced to retract.
Her Berserker heart hammered so hard she tasted iron.
She heard boots approaching.
A Saint entered, faceless helm glowing with scripture-lenses.
"You cost us two hundred men at the Glass Plains, Berserker."
Veyra grinned, blood running down her teeth.
"Two hundred? Then next time, send more."
The Saint struck her with sanctified force.
Her head snapped sideways, purple-black blood splattering the wall.
The chains tightened.
Her ribs creaked.
Still she laughed.
"You can break every bone," she growled.
"It'll just make me angrier."
The Saint leaned in.
"That is precisely the point."
Seraphine
Seraphine's cell was silent.
Too silent.
A vacuum of sound—the empire's anti-Seraphic seals sucking every whisper of magic from her lungs.
She floated inches above the ground, wrists bound by script-wrought shackles that fed on her mana.
A single mirror hung from the ceiling.
Her reflection looked wrong.
Eyes too dark.
Hair too long.
Shadow stretching like a second soul.
When the door whispered open, she didn't turn.
A Cardinal approached.
"Calamity Witch," he crooned. "You look smaller than the legends."
Seraphine's voice was soft.
Deadly.
"I am being polite. Do not mistake that for weakness."
The Cardinal flinched.
He hid it poorly.
"You will cooperate," he said sharply. "Or we strip your seal entirely."
Seraphine slowly raised her head.
"…If you break my seal," she whispered, "this continent will cease to exist before your body hits the floor."
The Cardinal swallowed.
And locked the door from the outside.
3. The Emperor's Real Plan
Back in the dungeon, the Emperor paced slowly around Kael like a scholar observing a specimen.
"There are three types of Abyss-born," he said, almost conversational.
"Those who drink the Abyss."
"Those who are consumed by it."
"And those born of both worlds—bridges."
His gaze sharpened.
"You three are bridges."
Kael glared.
"We're not tools."
"No," the Emperor agreed.
"You are keys."
He raised his hand.
A projection rippled into the air:
The Wound—not a Rift, but the original Abyssal breach, sealed a thousand years ago.
A mountain-sized scar on the world.
Runes crawled around it like chains.
"If the seal over the Wound breaks," the Emperor said, "the Abyss will swallow the world."
He smiled.
"I intend to swallow it first."
Kael's blood ran cold.
"You want to… eat the Abyss?"
"No, Kael." The Emperor leaned close.
"I want to replace it."
Kael recoiled.
"You're insane."
"Visionary," the Emperor corrected.
"I will consume the Wound. I will devour the Abyssal Leviathan sleeping behind it. And then… I ascend."
Kael's tattoos writhed violently—
a primal warning.
A scream.
The Emperor grabbed Kael's throat.
"You three were never meant to save the world," he whispered.
"You were meant to open it."
A sigil beneath Kael flared.
Golden chains rose and wrapped around his body.
The Emperor smiled cruelly.
"And tomorrow, my creation…
we begin the ritual."