Kael's heart raced as the ground beneath him crumbled away. His fingers clawed helplessly at the air as he plummeted, the sound of the rushing river below roaring in his ears. Just as panic set in, a strong hand clamped around his wrist, halting his fall abruptly.

"Hold on!" Lyra's voice strained with effort as she clung to the cliff edge, her grip iron-strong but her body trembling from the weight.

Dangling helplessly, Kael looked up to see Lyra's face twisted in determination. He tried to find his footing on the jagged cliff wall, but the earth beneath him was slick, and every attempt was futile. He felt her grip weakening, the strain of supporting his entire weight becoming too much.

Suddenly, her fingers slipped.

They plummeted, the world spinning around Kael as he and Lyra tumbled down the cliffside. He braced for impact, but it was like slamming into solid rock when they hit the river. The freezing water tore the breath from his lungs and pulled him under, spinning him in its violent current.

He kicked desperately, trying to break the surface, but the river was relentless, dragging him deeper. Just as his lungs burned for air, a hand grabbed him from the dark, wrenching him upward.

With fierce determination, Lyra pulled him from the river's grip, gasping, "Kael, stay with me!" Her voice broke through the chaos, a lifeline in the storm.

Kael barely registered her words as the cold gnawed at his bones.

Darkness tugged at the edges of his vision, and before he could respond, his body surrendered to unconsciousness.

***

The grand hall of King Rasmund's citadel was a place of oppressive stillness. Shadows clung to the stone walls, and torches flickered weakly, barely cutting through the gloom.

Dust swirled lazily in the air, responding to the unseen power that flowed from the king seated upon his jagged, stone-carved throne.

Before him knelt the Seven Knights of Thalios, each a master of the dust's power, yet now they bowed low, their heads hung in shame. None dared speak, for they had failed.

King Rasmund's eyes glowed with barely restrained fury, his fingers tapping the armrest of his throne in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The hall was heavy with his anger, the air thick with the swirling dust that seemed to pulse with his every breath.

Finally, the silence shattered. "What happened in Blackwood Forest?" His voice, though quiet, carried a dangerous edge that made the knights flinch.

None spoke. The king's gaze swept over them, cold and merciless. The dust in the room stirred restlessly, responding to the tension.

Rasmund's patience snapped. His fist slammed down on the throne, sending a shockwave of power through the hall. "I asked you a question!" he thundered, his voice reverberating like a distant storm.

Aelric, the leader of the Seven, raised his head, his voice quivering as he spoke. "Your Majesty... we received word of a disturbance near Blackwood Forest. We sent forces, but it was too late when we arrived. The Godslayers intervened."

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"Godslayers?" Rasmund's voice was venomous, the air around him thickening with power. Once swirling lazily, the dust spun violently, forming a small storm at his feet. "You let the Godslayers interfere in my domain?"

Varian, another knight, dared to speak. "We were met by three of them—a burly man, a woman, and an old man. They overpowered our forces... and helped the villagers and the boy escape."

The air grew colder. Rasmund stood slowly, towering over them, his eyes glowing with the force of his power. "The boy... You failed to capture him?" His voice was low, but its menace made the knights shrink back.

Aelric nodded reluctantly. "We tried, but their strength—"

"Silent!" Rasmund's anger erupted, and the dust storm around him exploded outward, shaking the very foundations of the citadel. "Do you not realize what this means?"

The knights remained silent, their fear palpable.

"That boy," Rasmund spat, "is the one from the prophecy. The Titans' chosen. He is destined to rise against the gods—to challenge me! And you let him escape!"

The Seven Knights were stunned. A prophecy? The realization hit them like a hammer. Rasmund had foreseen this moment—the emergence of a new Godslayer who would threaten the gods themselves. And now, they had allowed that threat to slip through their fingers.

Rasmund's eyes burned with fury, and the dust storm intensified, cracks spreading across the floor as his power swirled uncontrollably. "I was meant to kill him before he could rise! And now, because of your incompetence, he is out there—growing stronger with every moment!"

Aelric tried to steady his voice, though it trembled. "Your Majesty, we have the boy's name—Kael. Some villagers who stayed behind told us before we left."

Rasmund's eyes snapped to him, the storm of dust still raging. "Kael..." He repeated the name, seething. "And where is he now?"

"We believe he fled into the forest with the Godslayers," Varian added cautiously.

Rasmund's fury reached its peak. The dust storm exploded once more, tearing through the hall and knocking several of the knights back as the full force of his power was unleashed. "You let them escape? You let my enemy slip through your fingers?"

The Seven Knights cowered before their king, the air around them crackling with energy. Yet instead of delivering punishment, Rasmund's eyes narrowed, his rage taking a colder, more calculating edge.

"The villagers," he said softly, his voice dripping with malice. "They knew of this boy, and they let him escape. They are guilty of treason."

Aelric paled, understanding what the king was about to order. "Your Majesty—"

"Send our Divine Chosen. One of you leads them," Rasmund interrupted coldly. "Burn the village. Kill them all."

The knights exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared protest. The king's word was final.

Varian's voice, barely a whisper, said, "As you command, Your Majesty."

Rasmund turned away, his back to the kneeling knights as he ascended the steps to his throne once more. "The Godslayers think they can defy me. They think they can defy Thalios. But they will learn."

He seated himself, his eyes burning with the cold fire of his rage. "Find Kael. And when you do, bring me his head."

The Seven Knights rose to their feet, their faces pale, their hearts heavy with the king's wrath. They bowed deeply and retreated, the doors closing behind them with a heavy thud.

Left alone in the hall, King Rasmund's fury simmered. The dust storm around him slowed but did not stop. His fingers tapped once again on the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing through the hall.

The prophecy was unfolding, and the boy Kael—this new Godslayer—would either be his greatest triumph or undoing. But Rasmund had no intention of letting the latter happen.

The power of Thalios coursed through him, and he would see to it that no Titan's heir would ever rise to challenge the gods.

No matter the cost.