After Kane Volcrest was teleported back home from the Crownspire Ascension, he didn't pause. Not to breathe. Not to reflect. Not to speak.
He walked with purpose, his violet eyes as cold as the storm that always lingered around his presence. The grand halls of the Volcrest estate were quiet, but the workers and retainers still bowed their heads respectfully as he passed.
"Young Master Volcrest," some whispered, bending at the waist.
But Kane said nothing.
Not a glance. Not a nod. He walked past them as if they were shadows, phantoms in his peripheral vision. His destination was far more important.
He was heading to the restricted area of the Volcrest estate.
A place no guards patrolled, and no servants dared tread—not because they were forbidden, but because none were strong enough to even stand near it without their knees giving out.
Kane reached the edge of the inner estate. Beyond him was a dense forest, wild yet perfectly maintained.
