Chapter 80
The bells of Kal-Setan had not tolled in ten thousand years.
But now they rang.
Once the grandest of the dream cities, Kal-Setan was carved from living obsidian and divine marrow, a throne-city of one of the 13. Its towers reached so high that they threaded into the star-veins of sleeping gods. Its temples sang with the breath of creation.
Now... they howled.
The sky was ruptured.
From the tear stepped a war.
The Voidling Warlord descended like a wound opening across the heavens. Its form was wrong—impossible, bloated with mouths and wings that whispered the undoing of reality. Behind it, time twisted into chains and entropy walked like a pet.
On a balcony of gold and bone, a god stood.
Highlord Setraal—Patron of Light's Reflection, one of the Thirteen.
His hands trembled.
Not from fear.