The Veil of Stars, once thought impenetrable, rippled and parted under Kael's command.
The hosts of the Ninefold Assembly poured through, an endless river of darkness and power, their banners drowning the heavens.
Beyond the Veil lay their first obstacle: the Silver Bastion — the outermost fortress of the Higher Realms.
It rose from a sea of clouds, a city of alabaster and light, bristling with ancient wards and celestial engines.
It had never fallen.
It had never been breached.
Until now.
From his vantage point atop the hill of broken stars, Kael observed the Bastion through eyes not entirely his own.
The Scepter of Dominion burned in his grasp, feeding him information — every crack in the walls, every flaw in the defense matrix, every heartbeat of the commanders within.
Selene rode up beside him, armor dark as midnight, her sword humming with contained fury.
"They're reinforcing the eastern gate," she said. "They expect a frontal assault."
Elyndra, cloaked in shimmering veils of magic, added, "Their Seers predict a siege of weeks, perhaps months."
Kael's lips curved into a slight, knowing smile.
"They still think like mortals," he said.
He turned to his generals — the leaders of the Ninefold Hosts.
"We will not give them the siege they expect," Kael declared.
"We will give them a lesson in inevitability."
Kael outlined his plan with chilling precision.
The Shadeborn Tribes would infiltrate the outer wards, bypassing the alarms that would otherwise alert the Bastion's defenders.
The Silent Choir would unleash psychic assaults, fracturing the mental cohesion of the enemy's command structure.
The Verdant Wyrmkin would summon storms — not mere rain, but roiling tempests that would blind and batter the defenders.
The Daughters of the Abyss would slip through the chaos and target the Bastion's central node — the Heart Prism — the very source of its protective power.
Meanwhile, the Ironclad Legion would make a feint against the main gates, drawing attention and reinforcements.
The Pale Covenant would pretend to defect, sowing confusion among the defenders.
The Covenant of Ashes would corrupt the celestial engines from within, rendering their heavy weapons useless.
The Celestial Forsworn would spread dissent, whispering doubt into the hearts of the garrison.
And when the Bastion was in shambles, when its people turned against themselves — Kael and the Black Banner would strike the final blow.
Not a siege.
A collapse.
A complete, orchestrated annihilation.
At Kael's signal, the armies moved.
The earth itself seemed to sigh under the weight of destiny.
The Ironclad Legion thundered toward the eastern gates, war cries shaking the clouds.
The defenders responded exactly as Kael had foreseen — concentrating their forces, bolstering the wards, bracing for a brutal head-on clash.
They never saw the Shadeborn slip through the cracks.
They never felt the Choir's songs seeping into their dreams.
They never suspected the Verdant Wyrmkin's summoned storms were anything more than weather.
Within hours, the once-gleaming Bastion descended into confusion.
Officers argued over phantom orders.
Battalions fired upon each other in the blinding storms.
Sacred wards flickered and died, snuffed out by unseen saboteurs.
The Heart Prism pulsed erratically — its harmony shattered.
Still, the defenders fought bravely.
Still, they believed they could endure.
They did not yet realize they were already defeated.
At the height of the confusion, the Pale Covenant approached under white flags.
"We see the truth now!" their Knight-General cried, voice ringing across the field.
"We renounce Kael's lies! Let us fight at your side against him!"
Desperation and fear made the Bastion's commanders accept them.
It was their final mistake.
As soon as they were within the walls, the Pale Covenant turned their blades against the defenders, cutting down officers and destroying key nodes of power.
The Bastion's remaining cohesion collapsed.
Kael mounted his nightmare-steed, the Scepter blazing in his hand.
The Black Banner assembled around him — the finest warriors of his empire, handpicked, unbreakable.
He did not shout.
He did not roar.
He simply moved — and reality bent before him.
They swept into the shattered Bastion like a tide of black fire.
Kael led them personally, carving a path through angels and paladins, through mages and warlords, as easily as a knife through silk.
None could stand before him.
His presence was a gravity well of inevitability — their weapons faltered, their spells died uncast, their courage withered.
Selene, Elyndra, and Seraphina fought at his side, their blades singing in perfect harmony.
Together, they advanced toward the Heart Prism, the last desperate refuge of the Bastion's leadership.
The Heart Prism floated above a dais of silver flame, its light flickering, dimming.
Around it gathered the last of the Bastion's High Command — winged figures clad in armor wrought from pure will, faces etched with grim defiance.
At their head stood High Marshal Altheon — a being who had once turned back entire demon legions with a word.
He pointed his radiant spear at Kael.
"You will go no further," Altheon declared.
Kael did not slow.
"You misunderstand," Kael said, voice like a glacier grinding mountains to dust.
"You are not stopping me."
He raised his Scepter.
"You are bearing witness."
Altheon screamed a war cry and charged, spear thrusting forward, a comet of righteous fury.
Kael did not dodge.
He caught the spear's shaft with his bare hand.
The force of the blow cracked the dais beneath them — but Kael remained unmoved.
He tightened his grip — and the unbreakable spear shattered like glass.
Altheon recoiled, stunned.
Kael stepped forward and drove the Scepter through the High Marshal's chest.
Light exploded outward — not pure, not holy, but corrupted, devoured by Kael's will.
Altheon fell, his wings dissolving into ash.
The Heart Prism dimmed further, its song faltering.
The remaining defenders broke.
Some fled.
Some knelt.
Some simply dropped their weapons and wept.
It did not matter.
Kael's army swept through them, extinguishing the last embers of resistance.
Kael approached the Heart Prism.
It pulsed weakly, a dying heartbeat of a failed age.
Selene, bloodied but unbowed, stood at his side.
Elyndra watched with wide, awe-struck eyes.
Seraphina knelt, offering the Heart's master key — the Sigil of Dominion — captured from Altheon's corpse.
Kael took the Sigil without a word.
He placed it against the Prism.
It resisted — for a heartbeat.
Then, with a sound like the shattering of hope, the Heart Prism cracked.
Its power flowed into Kael — ancient wards, celestial laws, forbidden knowledge.
He absorbed it all, rewriting the very nature of the Bastion's existence.
The Silver Bastion was no longer a fortress of the Higher Realms.
It was now a citadel of the Ninefold Assembly.
It bore Kael's mark.
It sang Kael's name.
It was the first true beachhead in the war to come.
From the heights of the conquered Bastion, Kael surveyed the Realms Beyond.
Already, alarms echoed across the horizons.
Already, the enemy gathered.
Good.
Let them come.
Kael turned to his generals.
"This is only the beginning," he said.
He gestured toward the skies, where portals flickered — gateways to deeper, richer Realms.
"We will march.
We will conquer.
We will ascend."
The Ninefold Assembly roared in answer — a sound that shook the bones of the cosmos.
Kael smiled.
The fall of the Higher Realms had begun — and there was no force in existence that could stop him.
To be continued...