A city of light stood before him.

  Ryojin overlooked Solara, the grand citadel of the Celestial Order built on mortal land. Towering spires of white stone stretched toward the heavens, bathed in golden radiance. Divine energy pulsed through its streets, forming protective barriers that had never been breached.

  It was a sanctuary. A fortress.

  And soon, it would become a battlefield.

  “Why are you following me?” Ryojin asked, holding the hilt of his katana, as he sensed a presence behind him.

  Vaelin revealing himself exhaled, arms crossed. “Attacking the Celestial Order directly? You don’t waste time, do you?”

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  Ryojin remained silent. His gaze lingered on the highest tower—the Hall of Judgment, where the Celestial Order’s will was enforced. It was there that they had sentenced him to the Abyss. It was there that they had declared him an abomination.

  It was where he would begin.

  Vaelin sighed. “I assume this isn’t just about revenge.”

  Ryojin’s fingers brushed the hilt of his katana. “No.”

  Revenge was simple. A fleeting hunger. What he sought was correction.

  The gods had built this world on chains and order, dictating who could rise and who must fall. But Ryojin had seen what lay beyond their grand design. He had touched the void, become the abyss, and now?

  He would tear their order apart.

  Vaelin gave him a knowing look. “If you do this, there’s no going back. No neutrality. No negotiations. The gods will descend, and the world will choose sides.”

  Ryojin smirked. “Let them.”

  A gust of wind passed between them. Far below, Solara’s people continued their lives, unaware that their city stood on the edge of a knife.

  But that would change.

  Soon.

  Very soon.

  Ryojin turned away from the city, the shadows curling around his form.

  “When the dawn comes,” he murmured, “it will be black.”