Ancestry of Secrets

The void did not resurrect Cedric Veyra—it reforged him.

Ethan saw him first in the wastes beyond the Ashirai's desert, a silhouette etched against a bleeding sun. Cedric's body was a patchwork of void-tendrils and scarred flesh, his eyes twin abysses ringed with starlight. The raven sensed him before Ethan did, its golden feathers bristling as it loosed a warning cry.

"Hello, nephew," Cedric drawled, his voice layered with the void's static. "Miss me?"

The Ashirai called him Kael'var—the Hollow King. Cedric had become the void's perfect vessel: a Veyra unbound by mortality, his hatred honed into a weapon. He wielded a sword of crystallized absence, its edge singing with the Thirteenth Star's dirge.

"You should've killed me when you had the chance," Cedric said, circling Ethan in the ruins of a dead god's temple. "Now, I'm more than you could ever be."

Ethan's cloak billowed, starlight condensing into a spear.

"You're just another puppet."

Their clash shattered the temple. Cedric fought with the void's relentless hunger, but Ethan had learned the Ashirai's art of stillness. He slipped between Cedric's strikes like smoke, his blows precise, patient.

"Still running from your blood?" Cedric sneered, parrying a thrust.

"Still hiding behind yours?" Ethan countered.

The raven dove, talons raking Cedric's face. Void-black blood sizzled as the bird's golden light seared the wound. Cedric roared, retreating into a rift.

The victory was hollow.

That night, the Ashirai's scouts reported a new threat.

The Dralei, ancient rivals who claimed descent from the First Duskheir. They arrived on obsidian steeds, their armor forged from the bones of dead realms, their banners emblazoned with a winged serpent devouring a star.

Their leader, a woman named Veyra, a mocking coincidence, Ethan suspected, dismounted and tossed a severed void-spawn's head at his feet.

"We've been cleaning up your messes, pretender."

The Ashirai bristled.

"The Dralei are thieves," their remaining elder hissed. "They steal relics and call it heritage."

Veyra smirked. "And you Ashirai grovel at myths. The First Duskheir was Dralei. Your 'holy wanderer' was a mercenary who sold their secrets to the Veyras."

Ethan silenced both factions with a glance.

"Argue later. The void's army is growing. Cedric's just the start."

The Dralei brought grim tidings. Cedric had rallied the void's remnants into a horde—corrupted Ashirai, Dralei exiles, even the skeletal remains of the dead gods. They marched on the Crossroads, seeking to unmake the last sanctuary between realms.

"We'll stand with you," Veyra said, her tone begrudging. "But when this is over, the Duskheir's mantle returns to its rightful heirs."

The Ashirai spat at her feet. Ethan ignored them, his gaze on the raven. It stared back, Nari's essence glowing faintly in its eyes.

What would you do? he asked silently.

The bird cawed once—adapt—and took flight.

The battle began at the Crossroads' edge. Cedric's horde poured through the rifts, a tsunami of teeth and shadows. Ethan fought alongside Ashirai and Dralei, his cloak a maelstrom of starlight and will. The raven soared above, its wings scattering void-spawn to ash.

But Cedric had saved his cruelest blow for last.

From the horde's heart emerged a figure Ethan had prayed never to see again: Mara Ravenscroft, her body reconstructed by void-magic, her green eyes replaced with swirling oblivion.

"Ethan…" she rasped, a marionette of corruption. "You… left me…"

He froze.

Cedric's laugh echoed across the battlefield.

"Everyone breaks, nephew."

The raven struck before Ethan could. It plunged into Mara's chest, its golden light clashing with the void's hold. She screamed, clawing at the bird as memories flooded her—Ethan's face, Liora's sacrifice, her own defiance in the chapel.

"Let… me… go…" she begged, her voice her own.

Ethan reached her as the raven's light consumed her body.

"Mara—"

"Do it," she whispered. "Burn it all."

He channeled the cloak's power into a single, searing burst. Mara and the void's tether dissolved, her final smile a ghost in the light.

Cedric's roar shook the Crossroads.

"You ruin everything!"

Ethan turned, his grief a cold fire.

"I learned from the best."

Their final clash tore the sky. Ethan fought not as a Duskheir or a Veyra, but as a man unshackled—his strikes fueled by loss, his will a blade forged in the Ashirai's silence and the Dralei's fury.

When he plunged his spear into Cedric's core, the void's hold shattered. Cedric's body disintegrated, his final breath a whispered.

"You… win…"

The battlefield fell silent. The Dralei and Ashirai stared at Ethan, the raven perched on his shoulder, its gaze inscrutable.

Veyra stepped forward.

"The mantle, pretender."

Ethan removed his cloak and let it fall.

"Take it. I'm done with titles."

He walked away, the raven following.

Behind him, the factions erupted into chaos.