At the edge of the broken world, past the Wound in the Sky and the ruins of Vel'Dran, a storm unlike any other gathered.
It was not of rain, nor thunder, nor fire.
It was made of voices.
A thousand souls crying out—not in pain, but in answer.
To her.
To Liora.
And at their heart walked a man reborn.
He had Kael's eyes.
Not the gentle, curious eyes of the man she once knew, but something older—truer. Eyes like shattered obsidian streaked with starlight. Eyes that remembered life, death, and the fire between.
His name had been whispered by the Fallen God. Spoken through the Choir. Carried on the wind of prophecy.
He no longer bore the name "Kael."
He was now called Vaerion, the Forgotten Flame.
And with his return, the Dissonant rose.
They were the cast-offs of heaven.
Once-seraphim, archangels, divine spirits—those who had questioned the gods, who had loved mortals, who had bled for causes the pantheon deemed unworthy. Cast down, erased from records, their names burned from the Hall of Echoes.
Now, they had form again.
They came cloaked in broken halos, wielding weapons made from fallen starlight and shattered oaths. Their song was rough, imperfect, mournful—but filled with power.
Where they walked, flowers bloomed in graveyards. Stars wept light across the void.
They were not Liora's enemies.
They were her mirror.
Liora stood upon the ridge at dusk, watching the sky turn crimson with ash.
Her bone dragons had gone still.
Even her undead army paused, as though holding breath.
They could hear it.
That new song.
It wasn't like the Choir's sterilized harmony.
It was messy. Flawed.
Human.
And it called to her.
"It's him," she whispered. "I know it."
Veyron stepped beside her. "How is it possible?"
"I don't know," she said. "Only that it's right."
She turned to her lieutenants. "Prepare a diplomatic guard. No aggression. No weapons raised unless provoked."
Kelvir frowned. "You're walking into a potential ambush."
"I'm walking into destiny," she said.
The meeting took place at the old Stones of Cirth—a neutral ground, long abandoned by gods and mortals alike. A circle of monoliths infused with raw creation energy, left untouched since the first war.
Liora arrived on foot, her war-beast kneeling at the perimeter. She wore no armor. Only a long black cloak stitched with threads of soulflame, and a circlet of bone and crystal resting lightly on her brow.
She walked into the circle alone.
On the other side, Vaerion waited.
He wore robes of twilight, stitched from broken prayers and dawnlight. The wind danced around him, carrying whispers of names Liora thought she'd forgotten.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the entire world paused.
Not in fear.
In reverence.
"You remember me," Liora said, her voice low.
"I never stopped," Vaerion replied.
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She blinked them away, furious at the weakness.
"How?" she asked. "How are you alive?"
"I wasn't," he said. "But your memory… your love… your rage—it pulled me from the void."
"You were sealed away by them."
"Yes. And when they saw you coming, they tried to erase me again. But your flame… it was too bright. It burned through the lies."
He stepped forward.
And for the first time in what felt like centuries, Liora let someone touch her.
His hand met hers—warm, solid, real.
The gods had tried to kill him.
And she had brought him back.
Not with a spell.
Not with a sacrifice.
But with faith.
The Dissonant encircled the Stones of Cirth, singing.
Their song merged with hers—raw and powerful, dissonant and divine.
It was not unity they sought.
It was balance.
And from that balance, the world began to change.
In the Aether Sanctum, chaos reigned.
The Choir faltered. Their song lost rhythm. Their light flickered.
"Impossible!" Ilyra shouted. "That flame should not burn!"
Balthoros struck the floor with his warhammer, shattering the lower sanctum. "You have lied enough, Ilyra. What else did you seal?"
The Dreamer said nothing.
He only stared down into the mortal plane… and smiled.
"She did what we could not," he said softly. "She remembered who he was."
"And now?" Ilyra demanded.
"Now," he said, "she remembers who she is."
Liora and Vaerion sat beneath the starlight, hand in hand, the wind swirling with reborn echoes.
"They will not stop," she said.
"They can't," he replied. "They're bound to the laws they wrote to enslave us both."
"Then we must break those laws."
He looked at her then, truly looked.
"What will you do with the Shard of Origin?"
Her jaw clenched. "Rewrite the world."
"And me?" he asked, gently. "Would you rewrite me too?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I saw a vision. I saw you at my feet… dead… by my hand."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
"Then we break that fate together."