Chapter 96 – Cursed Horizons

The path through the marshlands was wrong. Too still. Too quiet. The reeds bent with no wind, and the mist clung to the travelers like something alive.

Kael walked at the front, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade though no enemy stood in sight.

“Something’s following us,” he said.

Aria’s staff pulsed faintly. “No. Not following. Surrounding.”

The first distortion came as a reflection in the water. Kael glanced down—and saw himself not as he was, but as the world whispered: eyes like burning coals, a crown of thorns, a hero drenched in the blood of innocents.

The water rippled, and the reflection grinned.

“You’re not Kael anymore,” it hissed. “You’re their nightmare.”

Kael’s chest tightened. He struck the water with his blade—only for the ripples to scatter, reform, and show the same monstrous image again.

From the fog, whispers rose. Voices of villagers, soldiers, even allies long dead.

“He should never have returned.”
“He is the fracture.”
“He will undo us all.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “This isn’t natural. Someone is feeding this…”

And then she saw it—etched faintly into the horizon sky, too vast to be mortal: a sigil glowing in the clouds, pulsing like a heartbeat.

The curse wasn’t just an illusion. It was a mark. A claim.

Kael clenched his fists. “Whoever you are…” His voice was steady, though his reflection still mocked him in every puddle. “I won’t be your pawn. Not again.”

The sigil above flared—once, twice—and then the mist recoiled, retreating as though satisfied.

But the mark lingered in the heavens, seared into every watcher’s mind.

The world had seen.
The world had judged.
And the legend of Kael grew darker still.