Chapter 35 – The Crownless Heir
Far beneath Graven's central power grid, where artificial roots pulsed through the earth like glowing veins, a different heir stirred.
He sat in a throne of wires, surrounded by a dozen humming cores. Each one blinked with stolen Echo—drawn from broken Seals, from scavenged artifacts, from buried vaults left behind when the Ancients fled.
His name was Kael Arkyn.
The Crownless Heir.
Where Rayven had vanished, Kael had waited. Where others had forgotten, he had remembered.
Every betrayal.
Every burn.
Every lie the Council fed them.
He remembered the last time Rayven Cael stood in this very chamber—commanding, bright, chosen. And how Kael had knelt, his own name omitted from the final succession vote. Not because he was weak.
But because he saw the truth too clearly.
Now, he was stronger than any of them.
A figure approached through the gloom—lean and hooded, armored in black glass.
Kael didn't turn to look.
"How many Seals remain?" he asked quietly.
"Three," the figure replied. "District 0 has awakened."
Kael smirked. "So the Shadow stirs at last."
"He has help," the figure said. "The Nightstream girl. A few others. But they're not organized. Not yet."
"They will be," Kael murmured. "Rayven always inspires hope. It's his disease."
He stood, and the throne unraveled behind him, dispersing like dust.
Kael's armor tightened across his form—obsidian plate with flickers of red energy running along the edges. His left hand bore the Mark of Shatterglass: a corrupted Echo seal that gave him access to power beyond what the city allowed.
"But hope makes them reckless. Hope blinds them."
He walked to the edge of the chamber and touched the Echo map on the wall. The city's veins lit up. Three key locations flared—District 0, the Hanging Archives, and the Dead Vault.
Rayven had opened the first.
Kael would claim the next two.
"Begin Phase Two," he ordered. "Send the Shadowscourge to the Upper Rings. I want panic in the Market Quarters. Smoke in the air. Make them fear the city again."
The hooded figure nodded. "And the girl?"
Kael's eyes glinted. "Nyra? Keep her alive. She'll be useful."
"And Rayven?"
Kael paused.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"When he sees what this city really is… when he remembers why we burned it down… then he'll break."
The figure hesitated. "And if he doesn't?"
Kael turned and smiled coldly.
"Then I'll remind him.
Meanwhile, back in District 0…
Rayven knelt over the sigil in the floor of the tower, his hands glowing with the lingering Echo of the Seal. He could feel something distant, dark, pulsing beneath the surface of the city like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
"Something's wrong," he muttered.
Nyra stood near the exit, scanning. "I know. Echo readings are spiking across multiple sectors. It's not random. Someone's pushing it."
Rayven rose, a chill creeping up his spine.
"Then it's started."
He turned to her, gaze steely.
"I need access to the Hanging Archives. There's something buried there that might explain who I really was—before the collapse. Before the Seals. If I can unlock it…"
"You might remember the whole truth," Nyra finished.
Rayven nodded.
"And if I don't—"
"Then we figure it out together," she said firmly.
They didn't notice the flicker of a red surveillance drone slipping past the window, vanishing into the fog.
For above, Kael watched from a distant echo-screen.
He leaned forward, whispering like a curse.
"Run, Rayven. Run toward your past. I'll be waiting at the end of it."