Lia pointed toward the black sky, specifically toward the faint, reddish glow of Moon 9.
"A rebellion has started in the Iron-Reach mines," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "A slave has found a 'Black Dragon' and is slaughtering the overseers. The High Council will ask you to go and crush it tomorrow."
Kaelen tightened his grip on the table. "A slave? With a dragon? That's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible anymore," Lia whispered, leaning closer to his ear. "Go there. Kill the dragon, or bring the boy to his knees. But know this: every drop of blood you spill with that sword will make the pain go away. The sword doesn't just drink your luck, Kaelen... it drinks the life of those you slay. If you want to feel like a God again, you must become a butcher."
Kaelen looked at his hands. They were no longer trembling. The indigo energy had stabilized him, but he felt a cold darkness taking root where his heart used to be.
"I will go," Kaelen said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming hollow and metallic. "I will show them the 'Light' of Aethelgard."