Act I: Aftermath of the Throne Hall · Confrontation in the Wind
The grey-blue sky hung low. Gales tore through the tower's drapes, the throne hall doors broken and half ajar. Axe marks and bloodstains marred the stone walls. Inside the Ossified Tower's throne room, chaos lay strewn across the floor. The air reeked of blood and lingering arcane energy.
At the center, a corpse in a black-purple cloak lay still, its chest cleaved open by an axe. Blood trickled down the stone floor, flowing into a dark crimson crack.
The camera slowly pans upward—
Standing beside the body is Karan, holding an axe in one hand, his gaze steady.
Before him, at the top of the steps, stands the King of the Inhumans — Turanthor.
A silence stretches between them.
Time seems frozen. Wind rushes in from the shattered window, lifting the hem of Karan's cloak, and gently brushing through Turanthor's silver-grey hair.
Turanthor looks down at Karan, his gaze deep as the sea — part questioning, part wary, with an emotion hard to define.
Karan meets his eyes with a cold, stoic expression. No fear, no joy — only the hardened resolve of one who has walked through countless battlefields.
Turanthor finally speaks, his voice low and powerful:
"Why didn't you leave him alive?"
Karan looks down at the assassin's corpse, his tone like cold iron:
"Things like that—aren't worth keeping."
Turanthor narrows his eyes in thought. In the end, he says nothing.
---
Act II: Days Before · Secret Accord of Two Kings
Rewind to several days earlier.
In a dim stone chamber, yellow torchlight casts shadows across a stone table.
King Aerlant and Turanthor stand on opposite sides. No guards. No attendants.
"They will strike again," Aerlant says quietly.
"I believe so too," Turanthor replies, his voice calm and steady.
They fall into silence.
Then, as if with one mind, both kings nod.
"You'll send someone you trust most into my court."
"And you will send someone you trust most into mine."
Thus, a delicate pact is forged — not only to spy on each other, but also to protect one another's lives, should the worst occur.
From Aerlant, he sends his most loyal warrior — Karan.
From Turanthor, he dispatches the inhuman sharpshooter — Velox.
---
Act III: The Assassin's Ruse · Asymmetry of Murder
In the nightmare attack from Chapter VIII, the human king falls into layers of illusions, assaulted by the figure of an inhuman Shadowstalker — but in truth, it was only an illusion, conjured by human illusionist Noerne.
At the same time, a real assassin — a human killer — slips into Turanthor's palace to murder the inhuman king.
An obvious provocation:
A human assassin targets the inhuman king.
An inhuman illusion attacks the human king.
Karan's decision was born of that moment —
He couldn't let the assassin live.
He couldn't let the trail lead back to the true mastermind.
He couldn't allow Turanthor to suspect King Aerlant.
Karan didn't just protect —
He silenced the truth, ensuring the pact remained intact.
Turanthor saw this. He may not fully trust Karan—
But he acknowledges this was the act… of a reliable man.
---
Act IV: Mirrored Words · The Blade of Loyalty
Turanthor asks softly:
"Do you know who you just killed?"
Karan nods slowly.
"I do."
"You know who might've sent him?"
"I don't want to know."
"Are you here to protect me… or to watch me?"
Karan finally lifts his gaze, his voice icy:
"Both.
To protect you — because we don't want you dead.
To watch you — because we don't trust you."
Turanthor chuckles faintly — as if hearing the first honest words in years.
"How fitting. We feel exactly the same."
No more words follow.
In silence, they form a cruel and practical understanding.
---
Act V: Return to the Capital · Night of Judgment
Back to the same night after the nightmare ordeal.
Illusionist Noerne is arrested, imprisoned by direct orders of King Aerlant.
The royal dungeons beneath the capital are deep and damp — a pit of despair.
Noerne is shackled on a cruciform rack, body mangled, breath ragged.
King Aerlant personally applies healing elixirs — only to prolong the agony for renewed interrogation.
"Who sent you?"
"Why use inhuman dreamweaving in your attack?"
"Do you want war between our kings?"
Noerne remains silent, bleeding, broken.
"You won't escape. Every second in your dream—I remember."
The king interrogates him night and day, using rotating torturers.
---
Act VI: Depths of the Dungeon · A Visitor in the Shadows
As the night deepens, the dungeon doors creak open.
Two guards fall silently. A figure enters, cloaked in black, silent as midnight.
He steps up to Noerne's broken form.
"Had enough?" he whispers.
Noerne rasps:
"…You… finally… came…"
The cloaked one reveals a black ring — twin serpents entwined upon it.
"The plan accelerates. You are to deliver… the final dream."
Flames flicker. On the wall, an arcane sigil flares—then vanishes. A shadow slips into the dark.
Voiceover:
"You can't truly kill a king… unless you first make him doubt everyone beside him."
In the depths of the royal prison, sealed under black stone and trembling lamplight, the illusionist remains bound.
Chains bite into his ruined flesh, enchanted light barely keeping him alive — but unable to dull the pain.
Torture tools lie scattered: meathooks, mercury rods, soul whips — cruel instruments of a ritualized "reverse-forging."
His lips tremble, eyes hazy, but still clenched with defiance.
"Again… go on… you think I'll tell you… anything?"
A ritualist strikes with another arcane whip — searing, shaking, tearing at the soul.
"AAAAAHHH—!!"
He howls, but not once does he beg. Even with part of his tongue bitten off, he keeps the secrets sealed.
"Tough one," murmurs a nearby officer.
"We have time."
The torturer nods.
"Every three hours. Keep the pain… keep him awake."
As they prepare to leave—
Clang.
The deepest iron gate creaks open.
A chill wind seeps in. The torches go out — only faint red sigils flicker faintly on the walls.
"Who's there?!"
But before another word—
A triangular glyph shoots out from the intruder's hand, silencing all seals.
Snap!
The prison's wards extinguish.
A guard shouts:
"Intruder—!"
But a wind blade slits his throat mid-cry. Blood sprays. Another soul is burned to ash by unseen force.
Only silence remains.
The cloaked figure steps up to the illusionist. His voice calm:
"You did well. Though they forced the timeline… the fracture has begun."
Noerne's eyes widen:
"You… are…"
"No need to know who I am.
You only need to know… your mission is not yet complete."
He touches Noerne's forehead with a glowing sigil.
The broken body slowly begins to heal.
"Awaken, Dreamweaver. We have one last dream to shape."
Chains fall away, breaking one by one.
Deep within Noerne's soul, a foreign force takes root — a higher will connects to his mind.
No sound escapes. The seals hold everything.
Above—on the royal tower—
King Aerlant awakens, staring out at the stars. He murmurs:
"…Something… has returned."