The ruined courtyard of the Solaris Palace smelled strongly of burnt iron and gray ash. The massive iron gates were gone, torn off their hinges by the Black Mist Knights. City guards were working tirelessly in the cold night, stacking heavy stone blocks to create a barricade.
Inside the smoky walls of the War Room, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Kairos sat at the oak table. He had finally washed the dirt from his face, but he still wore his torn, dusty travel clothes. Asteria rested against his chair, the ancient silver metal looking like a dead, blackened piece of iron.
Seyana, Ignis, and Terravarous sat across from him. They stared at him in silence.
"So," Ignis finally spoke, leaning forward and crossing his arms. "You went to a ruined temple, talked to a grumpy old man, and destroyed the magical interface in your head. Did I get that right?"
"Yes," Kairos nodded calmly.
