Smoke hung over the world like a shroud.
What remained of Ash'Var was ash and bone — burned temples, shattered citadels, hollow eyes of once-mighty guardians.
Elias lived.
But he wished he hadn't.
The Lightbearer and the demon general were gone — not even bodies left to bury. Their names, already fading from the tongues of cowards and kings alike. And Shadow… he still ruled, blood on his throne and silence in his heart.
But something had changed.
The world had seen.
They had watched as the Chosen One failed. As the heavens cracked. As hope bled.
And now… they feared.
Far to the west, in the last city of the Sky Monks, the Fivefold Crown met in secret.
"He should not have survived," one said.
"He should not exist," said another.
The oldest of them leaned forward, eyes blind, voice like sand.
"And yet he does."
They turned toward a glowing pool — where Shadow sat, alone, rebuilding his ruined throne.
"He is no longer king," whispered the Seer.
"But he is something worse: a shadow without a leash."
Elsewhere — in the drowned halls of Solmir, in the frozen towers of Narthas, in the deepwoods of the Hollowroot Court — whispers spread.
Shadow had survived.
Shadow had won.
And the Chosen One… had fled.
The world burned with questions:
Would he strike again?
Would he conquer?
Or… had something changed in him?
No one had answers.
Only fear.
Elias wandered.
He crossed desolate lands, broken fields of angels and demons alike. His face was hidden under a hood of mourning. His hands trembled. His soul felt… cracked.
He no longer believed he could win.
But he could warn.
He entered cities, told what he'd seen. That Shadow was not a god.
But neither was he mortal.
And some believed.
Others mocked.
And some — the quiet ones, the watchers in the dark — listened… carefully.
Back in the heart of Hell, the throne rose again.
Not of gold. Not of fire.
But obsidian, wrapped in veins of old pain.
Shadow sat in silence.
His eyes were closed.
Memories surged like blood behind them.
Kara.
Malrik.
Eryn.
The traitors.
The world.
He exhaled once.
Then whispered into the empty hall:
"I let them come to me once.
Next time… I go to them."
In the shadows beyond time, something stirred.
A god that had slumbered through empires.
A light that flickered before the first flame.
Even the heavens, fractured and leaderless, began to murmur.
The old laws had been broken.
There was no balance now.
Only ash.
And from ash… rise monsters.