"They cast him from the heavens.
But the sky still bows when he walks."
---
Karna rose from the wreckage.
Smoke curled around him like chains.
Stone cracked beneath his boots.
His hair hung wet with blood and starlight, and his eyes—
His eyes burned with the memory of everything he had lost.
A hundred crossbows were pointed at him.
Twelve mages gathered fire in their palms.
A high priest began reciting the Rite of Eternal Binding, voice shaking.
But Karna only looked at her.
At Aralyndra.
She was frozen beneath the shattered veil, blood dripping from her palm, lips parted in a word she wasn't supposed to remember.
> "I remember."
A whisper that had set fire to half the cathedral.
A vow broken.
And somewhere behind her, the throne trembled.
---
"Don't let him speak!" Queen Naeris screamed.
"Seal his mouth, bind his limbs—he is not divine anymore!"
But they were already too late.
Because Karna had not come to kneel.
He had come to take her back.
---
One of the royal mages stepped forward.
A woman in black robes, her face covered with golden filigree.
"By the authority of the Twelve Thrones," she intoned, "you are named Karna the Oathless, god-bane and breaker of celestial order. You are commanded to kneel—"
> "I do not kneel," Karna said.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't shouted.
But the moment he said it—
Three of the mages dropped dead.
Their hearts turned to ash.
Because Karna still bore the Flame of Rejection—a divine power once reserved for kings who had renounced the throne.
A flame that burned lies.
And the mage had lied.
---
"Protect the bride!" shouted Lord Caelren.
He reached for Aralyndra, grabbing her by the wrist, dragging her away from the altar.
And that—
That was Karna's last restraint.
His eyes ignited.
In a single step, he closed the distance.
> One word. Spoken like fire meeting oil:
> "Mine."
It wasn't a declaration of ownership.
It wasn't romantic.
It was truth.
Older than language.
Carved in stars.
And when he said it, the air between him and Caelren detonated.
The northern prince was flung backward like a puppet with its strings cut—slamming into a pillar hard enough to break stone.
---
The entire cathedral erupted into chaos.
Guards poured in.
Mages screamed spells.
Flames licked the marble walls.
Dragons circled above, their roars vibrating through the earth.
And in the center of it all:
Karna.
Aralyndra.
Two names that had once broken kingdoms.
Now reunited.
---
"You shouldn't have come," Aralyndra whispered.
Her voice still trembled.
Not from fear. From memory.
"You died," she said. "They burned you."
"I came back," Karna said.
His voice was rough. Ancient.
Like the echo of thunder inside a collapsed temple.
"I made a vow," he said.
> "I would find you in every life."
"And in every one… I would set you free."
---
Outside, the sky began to fall apart.
The second god—Zarikhael, Warden of Chains—descended wrapped in holy radiance. His six silver wings beat like iron bells. His voice thundered across the city:
> "RETURN HER. OR BE ERASED FROM EXISTENCE."
Inside the cathedral, time slowed.
Aralyndra turned her face to the skylight above, where Zarikhael hovered like the judgment of all things.
She took a single breath.
Her eyes glowed gold.
And then—
She stepped toward Karna.
Not as a princess.
Not as a bride.
But as the one who had once burned gods with her voice.
> "If you want me," she said to the sky, to the gods, to every throne—
> "Come take me."
---
And with that—
Karna took her hand.
And they vanished in flame.
---
Across the realm, the First Vowstone cracked.
Priests wept blood.
The Voice had returned.
And in forgotten cities where no one dared speak the old language, children began to hum a song their ancestors had died to forget:
> "She walks again.
The vowbreaker queen.
And where she sings—
The stars will bleed."