Ashes of a Forgotten Dawn

The sky was no longer a sky—it was a blistered wound, torn apart by the black wings of Arbiters and the flaming trail of Kaelen’s descent. The army of chitin beasts, endless as a tide, surged forward like the sea reclaiming the land. The survivors of Bastion-9—the last human stronghold—huddled behind ruined walls that cracked with every tremor of the advancing swarm.
Riven stood at the crumbling gates, armor cracked, blood staining the left side of his face. Beside him, Elira chanted through ragged breaths, threads of light spilling from her palms to mend the fallen. The ground around them was littered with the husks of beasts, their chitin smoking as if their very essence rejected death.
“You can’t keep this up,” Riven said, catching her before she collapsed.
“I must,” Elira whispered, her voice breaking. “If they fall, there will be no one left to stand.”
Before he could answer, the ground shook again. A fissure split open and from it rose Kaelen—not the man he once was, but a vessel of ruin. His body was fused with chitin plates that pulsed as if alive. His once-golden eyes now glowed with the abyss, unrecognizable, monstrous.
“Kaelen…” Riven’s throat tightened. “You don’t have to do this.”
But Kaelen only smiled—a hollow, fractured thing. “You still cling to hope. I cast it away the day the Arbiters showed me the truth. The Chitin Age isn’t coming. It’s already here.”
The swarm howled in unison, echoing his words like a prophecy.
Elira raised her staff, light trembling at its tip. “If you’ve truly forsaken yourself… then I’ll save you even if it means destroying what you’ve become.”
Kaelen’s laughter was the sound of cracking bones. “Try, then. Break yourself against me as the world already has.”
The clash was thunder and fire. Riven charged, blade drawn, sparks flying as steel met Kaelen’s armored flesh. Every strike he made was answered with inhuman speed, Kaelen’s monstrous form moving like a predator in its prime. Elira weaved healing and light between the chaos, each spell barely holding back the tide.
The swarm surged with every blow Kaelen landed, as if feeding on his wrath. Bastion-9’s walls cracked, chunks of stone raining down. The few surviving soldiers rallied, holding the breaches with their lives.
In the eye of the storm, Riven pressed forward, their blades locking. “I won’t let you erase everything!”
Kaelen’s face twisted, half-man, half-beast. “You already have nothing left to save.”
Then the horizon split open. A colossal Arbiter—wings spanning the burning heavens—descended, its form blotting out the sun. Its voice was not heard but felt, drilling into the marrow of every soul:
“The age of flesh ends. The hive ascends.”
The survivors faltered. Even Elira’s light flickered in despair. Riven, shaking, dropped to one knee.
But something deep inside him—something older than the Chitin Age itself—burned back. He rose again, sword in hand, eyes fixed not only on Kaelen, but on the Arbiter itself.
“Then I’ll end the hive.”
Lightning split the battlefield as if the world itself acknowledged his vow.
And with that, the stage was set—the last dawn before the world’s final night.

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