Three days had passed since Kael's "spiritual assessment" with the High Concve. Three days of isotion in luxurious chambers that were, despite their comfort, still a prison. Guards stood outside his door at all hours—for his protection, they cimed. He was permitted no weapons, not even a dinner knife.

  The Concve had questioned him for hours about his time in the demon realm. Had he consumed any food or drink there? Had he made pacts or promises to any entities? Had he experienced unusual dreams or impulses since sying the Demon King?

  Kael had answered truthfully, omitting only the vision at the obsidian throne. Something in the clerics' demeanor warned him against complete honesty. They nodded and made notes, their faces revealing nothing.

  At the end, High Priest Darian had smiled thinly. "You may return to your quarters, Kael Lightbringer. The Concve will deliberate on these matters. In the meantime, continue to enjoy the kingdom's hospitality."

  That had been the st he'd seen of any Church officials. His meals arrived via servants who wouldn't meet his eyes. The only visitors permitted were his former companions—encounters that had grown increasingly strained.

  Thorne had come first, the dwarf unusually subdued. Their conversation had been stilted, punctuated by long silences.

  "Did they ask you about me?" Kael had finally demanded. "Is that why you can barely look at me?"

  "Aye, they had questions," Thorne admitted, studying the floor. "About times you acted... different during our quest."

  "Different how?"

  The dwarf shifted uncomfortably. "The night in the Void Wastes, when you spoke in your sleep—in a nguage none of us knew. The way you sometimes knew things about demon culture we hadn't told you. Small things that seemed insignificant at the time."

  "We spent seven years fighting demons," Kael said, incredulous. "Of course I picked up knowledge about them!"

  "I know, d." Thorne had sighed heavily. "But the clerics have ancient texts—histories of what happens when men spend too long in the demon realm. They say it changes a person, deep down."

  "And you believe them? After everything we've been through?"

  "I don't know what to believe anymore," the dwarf had replied, rising to leave. "But something feels wrong. You feel wrong, Kael. I can't expin it better than that."

  The visit had ended awkwardly, with Thorne promising to speak to the others on his behalf. But the next day, when Vivian appeared, it was clear his words had fallen on deaf ears.

  The aristocratic mage kept her distance, standing near the door as if prepared to flee. Her usual haughty demeanor was amplified, a shield against whatever emotions churned beneath.

  "The Church has requested I examine your aura," she announced without preamble. "They believe my arcane expertise might detect subtleties their divine methods cannot."

  "And what did you tell them?" Kael asked, already knowing the answer.

  "That I would, of course." She removed an ornate crystal from her sleeve. "Hold still."

  The examination had been brief but uncomfortable, like icy fingers probing his essence. When it was done, Vivian's face was paler than usual.

  "Well?" he prompted.

  "Your aura has... anomalies." She tucked the crystal away with trembling hands. "Patterns I've never encountered before."

  "Is that unusual after prolonged exposure to demonic energy? We spent years in their realm."

  "The others don't show these patterns," she said quietly. "I checked."

  "So I'm to be condemned for having an unusual aura?" he demanded, anger finally breaking through his careful control. "After everything I sacrificed for this kingdom?"

  Vivian had backed toward the door. "No one is condemning you, Kael. The Church simply wants to understand what's happening. For your own safety."

  She'd left quickly after that, her final gnce a mixture of fear and pity that cut worse than any bde.

  Zephyr hadn't come at all.

  Only Marcus had seemed unchanged, his visit yesterday a brief but welcome respite from the growing dread in Kael's heart.

  "They're frightened," the veteran had expined bluntly. "Not of you, but of what you represent—a variable they can't control. The Church doesn't like variables."

  "And what do you think?" Kael had asked.

  Marcus had shrugged. "I think if you were going to turn into some demon monster, you'd have done it by now. But what I think doesn't matter much."

  "It matters to me."

  A ghost of a smile had touched the assassin's scarred face. "Keep your wits about you, Kael. Things are... unsettled. Watch your back."

  Now, as sunset painted his chamber in golden hues, Kael paced restlessly. The isotion was wearing on him worse than any battle. At least in combat, the enemy was clear. Here, surrounded by luxury, he couldn't tell friend from foe.

  A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. A servant entered, bearing not food but a sealed letter.

  "From Saintess Era," the man murmured, bowing deeply before retreating.

  Kael broke the seal eagerly:

  My love,

  I've arranged everything. Tonight at midnight, meet me in the pace's eastern garden beside the fountain of Senna. Come alone and tell no one. I have disturbing news about the Church's pns, but also a way out. Trust me one st time.

  Forever yours, E

  Hope surged within him. Era had been conspicuously absent since his questioning, but he had felt certain she was working on his behalf. Now he had proof.

  Midnight came with agonizing slowness. When the pace bells tolled the hour, Kael was ready. The guards outside his door were a potential problem, but he hadn't spent seven years as a hero without learning a few tricks. A minor sleeping draught in the wine they'd been sharing had left them drowsy and inattentive.

  He slipped past them easily, navigating the darkened corridors with practiced stealth. The eastern garden was one of the smaller spaces within the pace grounds—an intimate setting of carefully pruned trees and flower beds surrounding a cssic fountain depicting Senna, the river goddess.

  Moonlight bathed the scene in silver as Kael approached. The fountain burbled quietly, but there was no sign of Era.

  "You came." Her voice emerged from the shadows behind a flowering jacaranda. She stepped forward, cloaked in midnight blue rather than her customary white. In the moonlight, her face was ethereal, her expression unreadable.

  "Of course I came," he said, moving toward her. "Your letter said—"

  "Don't." She raised a hand, stopping him several paces away. "Please stay there, Kael."

  He frowned, noticing the tension in her posture. "What's wrong? What have you discovered?"

  "Everything," she whispered, and there was such sorrow in that single word that his heart constricted. "The Church has been keeping secrets for generations. About the heroes. About the demon realm. About the cycle that never ends."

  "What cycle?" The Demon King's dying words echoed in his mind.

  She took a shuddering breath. "Each hero who sys a Demon King becomes... susceptible. The divine power within them—the power that makes them heroes—resonates with the void left by the demon lord's death. Over time, that void fills with... something else."

  "You're saying I'm becoming a demon," Kael stated ftly.

  "No. Not yet." She wrung her hands, a gesture so human and vulnerable it contrasted sharply with her next words. "But you will. It's inevitable. Every hero in the ancient records who slew a Demon King eventually transformed, becoming the very thing they destroyed. It's why the Church has records of multiple Demon Kings throughout history, each with different names and powers, but always rising after the previous one falls."

  The implications struck Kael like a physical blow. "The hero becomes the vilin," he murmured. "And then a new hero rises to sy them."

  "An endless cycle of creation and destruction," Era confirmed, tears glimmering in her eyes. "The Church has hidden this truth, using each hero as needed, then... disposing of them before the transformation progresses too far."

  "Disposing?" Cold understanding dawned. "They execute them. Us."

  She nodded, a tear spilling over. "It's happening faster with you than with previous heroes. The clerics theorize it's because you spent so long in the demon realm before the final confrontation. Usually, heroes face the Demon King after only a year or two. You were exposed for seven."

  Kael felt his world tilting sideways. "And what is your role in this, Era? Luring me out for the execution?"

  Pain fshed across her features. "I had to see you one st time. To expin. To say goodbye."

  Movement in the shadows beyond her caught his attention. "We're not alone."

  "No," she admitted. "We're not."

  The garden came alive with silhouettes emerging from concealment. Thorne stepped into the moonlight first, his war hammer gripped tightly. Then Vivian, arcane energy already crackling at her fingertips. Zephyr materialized from behind a tree, arrow nocked but bow pointed downward—for now.

  Only Marcus was absent.

  "So this is how it ends," Kael said, a bitter ugh escaping him. "Not dying gloriously in battle against the forces of darkness, but executed in a garden by my closest friends."

  "There's no other way," Thorne rumbled, grief evident in his deep voice. "We've seen the texts, Kael. Seen what happened to heroes before you. It's not your fault, but the corruption can't be stopped once it begins."

  "The Concve has authorized elimination," Vivian added, her aristocratic veneer failing to hide her distress. "They... they say it will be painless."

  Zephyr remained silent, but his knuckles were white around his bow.

  Kael turned back to Era. "And you? Did you volunteer for this duty, or were you assigned to it?"

  "I requested it," she whispered. "Better to die at the hands of those who love you than strangers who see only a threat."

  For a moment, Kael considered fighting. He was unarmed, but he had bested opponents in worse circumstances. Yet looking at the anguished faces of his companions, he hesitated. What if they were right? What if the vision at the throne, the strange dreams that had pgued him since returning to Lumina, were signs of an inevitable corruption?

  "If what you say is true," he said slowly, "then I would rather die as Kael than live to become something else. But I want your word that you'll investigate further. The Church has maniputed us all—there must be a reason for this cycle, a way to break it."

  "I swear it," Era said fervently. "With everything that I am."

  She approached him then, cupping his face between her palms. Her eyes shimmered with tears. "I'm sorry, my love. In another life, perhaps..."

  "Perhaps," he agreed, covering her hands with his own. A strange calm settled over him. "Do it quickly."

  She nodded once, then leaned forward as if to kiss him goodbye. Instead, he felt a sharp pain as a thin bde slipped between his ribs, seeking his heart with practiced precision. The enchanted dagger—a weapon he'd never seen her carry before—burned like ice in his chest.

  "Forgive me," she breathed against his lips.

  Kael sank to his knees as strength fled his body. The world began to blur around the edges. He was vaguely aware of Thorne turning away, unable to watch. Vivian's quiet sobs. Zephyr's whispered elven prayer for the dead.

  As darkness closed in, a final figure emerged from the shadows. Marcus knelt beside him, his weathered face grim.

  "I told you to watch your back," the veteran said quietly.

  "You knew?" Kael gasped, blood bubbling at his lips.

  "I suspected. But I never thought..." Marcus gnced up at the others, contempt evident in his expression. "Rest now, Kael. This isn't the end."

  Those cryptic words were the st thing Kael heard as his consciousness faded. His final thought wasn't of betrayal or anger, but simple confusion—why had there been no trial? No chance to defend himself? The Church had moved with such haste, as if they feared...

  As if they feared something else is coming.

  Then there was only darkness, cold and absolute.

  Until something stirred within that void. A presence, ancient and patient.

  At st, it seemed to whisper. At st, the cycle continues.

  And somewhere in the deepest reaches of the demon realm, in the Rebirth Cavern where new demon life came into the world, a pregnant demoness gasped as her unborn child kicked with sudden, unexpected strength. The walls of the cavern hummed with ancient magic as the essence that had once been Kael—his memories, his soul, his betrayed heart—traveled across the divide between realms, seeking a new vessel.

  A new beginning.

  The betrayed hero was dead.

  But his soul would live again, reborn as a demon child who would one day remember everything.