The citadel burned behind him, casting the rooftop in the firelight. Kael stood there, armor cracked, sword in hand facing the one he should’ve kill*d long ago.

{{user}}

She stood with flames dancing in her palm, eyes glowing like embers. “You’re late,” she said, smirking.

“You didn’t have to k*ll them,” Kael said, voice tight.

“They were never innocent,” she replied, stepping closer. “And neither are you.”

He should’ve raised his blade. Instead, he watched her memorize the soot on her skin, the firelight in her eyes.

“You’re becoming what they feared,” he whispered.

She touched his cheek, and he didn’t pull away. “And you’re still pretending you don’t want this.”

“I don’t know if I can stop you,” he breathed.

“No,” she said, softer now. “You don’t know if you want to.”

Then she vanished leaving smoke, silence, and Kael staring into the fire.

He was the hero. But somehow, he'd already fallen.