The journey back to the fortress was a descent into silence.
Commander Vorn carried Queen Eliana, cloaked in heavy, patched steel, his exhaustion visible in the rigid set of his shoulders. Zoran walked behind him, his golden eyes fixed straight ahead, the weight of the Edict of Solmir a cold pressure in his chest. Trailing them were Kael, Rian, and Elara—bruised and subdued, following the King's remaining sentinel.
They reached the plateau fortress as the purple sun began to rise. This was the highest point in the realm, the closest to the sky. Zoran nodded to Vorn, indicating the place. Vorn gently laid the Queen's body down on a flat slab of pure quartz.
Zoran knelt. He did not have a shovel; the earth of the Divine Realm would consume her. He had to honor her differently. He placed his hand on the crystal slab. The Edict flared cold in his chest as he focused, channeling the intricate knowledge of the Royal Arts that now resides in his mind.
Golden runes flowed from his fingers, seeping into the crystal. The quartz slab began to pulse, and slowly, beautifully, it grew, wrapping around Eliana's body. It formed a perfect, seamless tomb of diamond-hard crystal. She was preserved, serene, a sleeping Queen bathed in the pale, ethereal light of the realm.
"She hated the dark," Zoran said, his voice hollow. "Now, she will always be in the light."
Vorn knelt, his head bowed to the crystal. "Rest, my Queen. I will watch over him. I swear it on my blood."
Zoran turned to the others. He felt the immense power of the Edict, but he also felt the exhaustion that followed its use. He looked at the three orphans—thin, young, and untested.
He made a difficult decision.
"We are not leaving," Zoran announced.
Vorn looked up, his brow furrowed. "My Prince? The door—"
"If we go to Terra now, we die," Zoran cut him off, his voice carrying the authority of his bloodline. "The Legions destroyed my father's full army. We are not soldiers; we are survivors. If we open that door now, we walk through as refugees to be immediately crushed."
He gripped the Edict. "We train. We prepare. And when we open that door, we walk through as an army."
Zoran stood by the massive iron door that sealed the Queen's tomb, his hand still resting on Vorn's armored shoulder.
"You swore to protect the future of Solmir," Zoran countered, meeting his gaze. "That future is waiting right here. I will go first. I need to scout the enemy, secure a foothold, and understand the cost. I cannot do that if I'm protecting a new army."
Zoran placed a hand on Vorn's shoulder. "Protect them, Vorn. Sharpen them until they are a blade worthy of this war. I will send the signal when the time is right."
Vorn, the unbreakable knight, slowly knelt. "As you command, my King. I will not fail you."
The Ladder of Ash
Zoran nodded, his gaze sweeping over the three orphans waiting below the raised platform. Kael, Rian, and Elara—the core of his new army.
"Before I go," Zoran addressed them, his voice gaining a hard, regal edge Vorn had spent seven years forging, "Vorn will establish the parameters of your training. We do not have years for trial and error. You will understand your limitations, and you will understand your enemy."
Vorn rose, his obsidian armor creaking. He didn't use soft words or encouragement. He taught with the bluntness of a survivalist.
"Listen, parasites," Vorn rumbled, his voice echoing in the gloom of the fortress. "You survived because Zoran shielded you. Out there, in the wider world, you are weak. You are grass beneath the boot."
He stomped his heavy boot once on the stone, the impact shaking the foundation.
"This Realm has rules, and those rules can be organized. If you want to fight the Legions, you must know the ladder you have to climb. It's not just four Tiers; it's a scale within a scale. Each Tier has seven Will Steps."
Vorn drew the outline of a pyramid on the dust-covered floor with the tip of his greatsword, then bisected each Tier into seven segments.
Tier One: Dregs (Unawakened)
"This is where you began. No light, no will, just food for the Prowlers. The gravity of the Divine Realm would crush you, and the Void would consume you in weeks." Vorn stabbed the bottom of the triangle. "Those who rely on muscle and luck. They die first."
Tier Two: Resonant (The Awakened)
"This Tier is where you absorb the environment's essence and manifest one distinct, reliable ability."
He pointed his sword at the three of them. "You three are Tier Two, Step One. You know your trick, but you tire in seconds. You are useful only as distractions."
He stabbed the lower rungs of the second Tier. "To climb to Step Seven, you must increase the density and duration of your ability. Rian, your Stone Skin must last longer than ten breaths. Kael, your Agility must be controllable and silent. Elara, your Fog must choke the sight of a dozen men."
III. Tier Three: Elite (The Disciplined)
"This is the border between a survivor and a soldier," Vorn stated, his voice dropping in severity. "Tier Three means you have mastered your one innate trick and can channel your Will into learned Arts, such as the techniques from the Edict."
Vorn looked at Zoran, then at his own gauntlet fused with the King's Stone.
"I am Tier Three, Step Seven. I am at the edge. I have mastered the King's Stone and my own Aether-based kinetic force to the maximum The Stone boosts my physical might ten-fold, but it will never grant me the true Royal Arts, because I do not bear the Kai bloodline. My ceiling is fixed. I can fight ten Tier Twos, but I will never be able to impose my will on the world like a Sovereign. This is the curse of the Stone—it grants power but reserves the true inheritance for the King.""
He shifted his gaze to Zoran. "The prince is Tier Three, Step Four. He is mid-Tier. He has all three of his Celestial aspects awakened—Fear, Ambition, and Rage—but they are immature. He can only use them in short bursts, and the Rebound is crippling."
Zoran nodded, confirming the assessment. The truth was better than a lie.
Tier Four: Executive (The Disaster Class)
Vorn drew a large circle near the peak. "This Tier is characterized by Endurance and Scale. A Tier Four can maintain their abilities for hours and their strikes can destroy multiple buildings. Gorath. Vespera. Kaelus."
"To ascend here, your Will must become an unstoppable force. It is the ability to ignore pain, ignore fatigue, and fight until the last drop of blood is spent. Each Step in this Tier requires a corresponding increase in the scale of your destruction."
Tier Five: Sovereign (The Divine)
Vorn pointed the tip of his sword at the peak. "This is the King. This is Malakor. This is the ability to project a Conceptual Domain onto reality."
He paused, then added the crucial distinction. "A Tier Five is defined by their stability. Malakor had the stability to maintain his Domain. Zoran, despite being only mid-Tier Three, can briefly channel enough Will to utilize his Aspect of Rage—that volatile, red lightning—to fight a low-level Tier Five."
Vorn put away his sword. "But that is an anomaly. That Rage is a double-edged knife and will cost him his life one day if he cannot control it."
He met their eyes, his own grim. "You will train every day to reach Tier Four. You will train until the heavy gravity of this realm feels like the air of Solmir. You will not stop until your abilities are as natural as breathing. If you fail, you become Dregs, and you die."
Zoran nodded, confirming the plan. He had given them their mission. Now, Vorn would begin his.
Six Months Later
The Divine Realm offered no reprieve, but Zoran used the unending twilight as his unforgiving training ground.
The six months passed in a blur of disciplined, brutal preparation. Vorn drove Zoran and the children relentlessly. Zoran spent his days wrestling with the Edict, struggling to master the fluid complexity of the Royal Arts while battling the rebound of his own exhaustion. He focused on refining his power, condensing his golden aura into weapons and defensive matrices.
He also spent weeks over a crude, roaring forge. He combined the brittle, high-density metal salvaged from Solmir's fallen warships with the shimmering, chaotic gold of Aethalium's ruins. The process was slow and agonizing, but the result was a blade designed to withstand the raw heat of his own soul—a sword that would only grow stronger by absorbing his divine Aether.
The children, too, were transforming. Vorn taught them discipline and tactics. Rian's Stone Skin ability was now a constant, reliable defense. Kael, pushed to the limits of his Assassin's Agility, could slip past Vorn's guard. Elara, focused and silent, learned to use her Shadow Manipulation not just to hide, but to bind and distract. They were no longer street rats; they were a cohesive unit.
The time had come.
Zoran stood on the plateau, overlooking his mother's crystal tomb. He was worn, but his body felt like tempered steel.
He reached for the newly completed sword leaning against the tomb. It was Aethercut, his first true weapon. The blade was about half his current height, thick and lethal. Its color was a deep, dark-silver, double-edged and wickedly sharp. The hilt was wrapped in thick, coarse drake hide leather—practical, providing absolute grip even when slicked with blood or sweat.
Zoran ran his thumb along the cold edge.
"A decent piece of work for a mid-tier weapon," Rage grumbled in his mind. "Strong enough for the world you came from, but don't expect it to slay any gods, kid."
Zoran ignored the commentary, letting his will settle around the blade. He held the Edict, no longer a heavy stone, but an extension of his will.
"It is time," Zoran told Vorn.
Vorn adjusted the King's Stone on his gauntlet. "The children are ready?"
"They are Tier Two, Step Five, with the heart of Tier Three," Zoran confirmed, using the language Vorn had taught them. "But they are not ready for the world beyond. They are yours, Commander."
Vorn gave a single, firm nod. "I will not fail you, my King."
Zoran turned toward the portal device. He poured his light into the Edict, channeling the precise rune combination his father had once used to seal the gate.
The air tore open. The fabric of the Divine Realm peeled back, revealing a swirling, violent portal of white and gold.
"Wait for my signal," Zoran called out.
Then, Zoran Kai, the last King of Solmir, Aethercut gripped firmly in hand, stepped through the portal, alone.