Kingdom of the Forgotten Sun

The chamber was still trembling when Liam emerged from the tunnel. Dust clung to his coat, his breath ragged. He clutched the second book under one arm, its cover warm—alive, almost.

He barely noticed the man sitting cross-legged on a broken stone slab nearby.

"Bit of a mess you've kicked up," the stranger said, smiling. "Gate this, prophecy that. Honestly, it's all getting very dramatic."

Liam spun, startled. "Who—how did you get in here?"

The man looked to be in his forties, lean and tall, with salt-and-ink hair tied loosely back. His clothes were modern—a blazer over a faded Star Wars T-shirt—and entirely out of place among the ruins.

"Me? Oh, I go where I'm needed. Or where it's fun." He tossed Liam a wrapped energy bar. "You look like death. Eat."

Liam didn't move.

"You're not with them, are you? The voices? The gate?"

The man chuckled. "Please. I don't do teams. I'm not with the light or the dark. I'm with the popcorn. I watch."

Liam frowned. "You're... an observer?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I give a nudge. Sometimes I get bored and flip the table. Depends on the day."

There was something disarming in his voice—cheerful but chilling. Like he'd watched empires rise and fall over a glass of wine.

"What's your name?" Liam asked.

The man leaned back and pointed to the stone ceiling. "Name's not important. But they used to call me 'Volund.' Maker of Things. Breaker of Others." He winked. "I like making better."

"Why are you here now?"

Volund's grin widened. "Because, dear Liam, you've started something. And I want a front-row seat."

He stood, dusting off his jeans. "You'll find Kael soon enough. And when you do, things will get very loud, very fast. Try not to die until the third act. That's when it gets good."

Before Liam could ask more, Volund was gone—vanished into thin air.

No sound, no trace.

Just the echo of laughter that didn't quite reach the ears.

Liam looked down at the book again. A new sentence had written itself:

The Game has begun.

To be continued...