Kael stood before the black crystal dais, surrounded by dozens of new voices, new faces—half-Gems, failed fusions, shattered remnants given form once more. They watched him like followers staring at a rising sun they'd only ever heard rumors of.
At his back loomed the Obsidian Throne, its violet sigils pulsing softly with anticipation.
They're waiting for something, Kael thought.
Not just words.
A beginning.
Shadelace appeared at his side, her shadow-draped form humming with cold energy. "They are yours, Monarch. But power without direction is chaos."
Kael looked across the court—now more than just a few figures. Over fifty had gathered from across the planet in the last week. Whisper networks had awakened. Forgotten shards were drawn like iron filings to a magnet. The Obsidian Call was real.
"They need more than me," Kael said. "They need us. A court."
He turned to Ashen Garnet, who stood silently at the edge of the throne's platform, her hands clasped behind her back, crimson gem glowing faintly beneath cracked gray skin.
"You were one of the first," he said. "And you understand what it means to be half of something broken. Will you stand beside me as the First of the Obsidian Court?"
Ashen Garnet bowed low. "I never thought I would be anything more than a mistake. If I can protect others from that fate... then I'll stand with you, Kael."
He nodded.
Shadelace stepped forward next. "Then it is begun. The court shall be named. Your first knight. Your first blade. Now, take the vow."
Kael placed a hand over his heart.
"I vow to uphold the forgotten. To stand for the shattered, the cast-out, and the unfinished. I vow to never repeat the sins of the Diamonds… nor the violence of Obsidian's fall."
A shimmering light passed from the throne into his palm and then into Ashen Garnet's chest. She gasped as her form glowed, stabilizing—becoming whole. The cracks on her gem sealed shut, leaving behind a glowing crimson-black fusion of color.
"I name you my Warden," Kael said. "The Obsidian Court begins with you."
A cheer rose—raw, uncertain, but hopeful.
The Cathedral pulsed in response.
Later that night, Kael stood on the balcony outside the throne chamber. The stars above seemed closer than usual.
Steven joined him, arms folded.
"You're building something real," he said. "It's... kind of amazing."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Kael admitted. "Half the time I feel like I'm channeling something ancient. The other half, I'm scared I'll turn into him."
"Obsidian?" Steven asked.
Kael nodded. "He tried to protect people. But power twisted him. The throne demands strength. If I don't stay in control, I'll become like he did—no better than the ones who shattered him."
Steven placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not him. You're you. And you've got us."
Kael smiled faintly. "Thanks. I'll need you."
Just then, a pulse echoed through the shadows. The Cathedral shook.
Ashen Garnet rushed in. "Monarch. We're under attack."
The battlefield was chaos.
Gem-tech warships appeared out of warped rifts, raining down blasts of white and gold light onto the landscape around the Cathedral. The air shimmered with heat and energy.
Connie deflected a bolt with her sword, shouting, "They're not Homeworld standard! These are off-grid—mercenary class!"
Peridot's voice crackled over comms: "They're using modified light-forged signatures! Whoever they are, they've studied Obsidian architecture!"
Kael launched himself off the upper balcony, cloak trailing like smoke. Shadows rose to catch him mid-air, forming steps as he descended. His glaive spun into his hand, the blade singing with purpose.
Ashen Garnet slammed her fists into the ground, summoning walls of protective obsidian crystal to shield the court members as they evacuated.
Kael landed in front of the lead warship just as its side opened—and a figure stepped out.
She wore red armor. Her gem blazed gold-red on her collarbone.
"Pyrope," Kael said, voice low.
The betrayer of Obsidian.
The figure smirked. "So the boy has learned my name."
Kael raised his weapon. "You killed him. You shattered the dream."
Pyrope's eyes gleamed. "I saved us from a tyrant. And now, I'll do the same to you."
She lunged.
The clash was thunderous.
Pyrope's weapon—a double-bladed halberd of molten light—crashed against Kael's glaive, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Flames licked across the floor. Shadows twisted, catching her strikes and retaliating.
"You're fast," she growled. "But sloppy."
Kael ducked a spin-kick, leapt, and brought his glaive down in a vertical arc—splitting the ground beneath her.
"I don't need to be perfect," he said. "Just better than you."
She smirked—and disappeared in a blink.
A heartbeat later, Kael's side burned. She reappeared behind him, blade sizzling against his ribs.
"Learn this," Pyrope whispered. "The Obsidian Line was always doomed to fall."
Kael staggered—then reached into the shadow of his own wound.
From it, he pulled a spear of darkness and threw it backward without looking.
It struck her square in the stomach, sending her skidding back.
He stood again, bleeding, eyes glowing.
"I'm not just Obsidian's heir," Kael said. "I'm the Monarch of the Forgotten."
Behind him, shadows rose.
Not summoned.
Not his.
The court had joined the fight.
Ashen Garnet slammed into Pyrope with a shoulder charge. Connie followed with a perfect parry. Shadelace, now dual-wielding twin scythes, emerged from the dark like vengeance.
The battlefield turned.
Pyrope growled, retreating as her warships fell back through unstable portals. "This isn't over."
Kael watched her go, body aching, but resolve like steel.
"No," he whispered. "It's just beginning."
In the aftermath, the wounded were treated, and the Court reinforced the Cathedral's barriers. The black crystal gleamed under starlight.
Kael limped back to the throne, sat, and closed his eyes.
Memories of Obsidian's betrayal burned in his mind.
But so did something new—
Hope.
"Next time," he said aloud, "we'll be ready."
And the throne pulsed once, solemn and steady.