As the Spire groaned and began to crumble, Kaelen grabbed his daughter and leaped from the shattering heights. They fell, not into death, but into a sea of clouds that softened like wool under the Spire’s dying magic.
Kaelen didn’t use a legendary blade to win. He used the heavy, soot-stained hammer from his belt—a tool of creation, not a weapon of war. He struck the glass throne, not with hatred, but with the rhythmic strike of a man shaping iron. Clang. Clang. Clang.
"My daughter is not an attachment," Kaelen roared, his voice echoing against walls that bled starlight.
With every strike, the "Glory" faded. The illusions of grandeur shattered. The white stone turned back into common granite, and the stolen children awoke from their trance.
As the Spire groaned and began to crumble, Kaelen grabbed his daughter and leaped from the shattering heights. They fell, not into death, but into a sea of clouds that softened like wool under the Spire’s dying magic.
Kaelen didn’t use a legendary blade to win. He used the heavy, soot-stained hammer from his belt—a tool of creation, not a weapon of war. He struck the glass throne, not with hatred, but with the rhythmic strike of a man shaping iron. Clang. Clang. Clang.
"My daughter is not an attachment," Kaelen roared, his voice echoing against walls that bled starlight.
With every strike, the "Glory" faded. The illusions of grandeur shattered. The white stone turned back into common granite, and the stolen children awoke from their trance.