The light faded.Silence settled around them—dense, heavy, absolute.For a long, breathless moment, Calen and Carmen stood frozen, unmoving, their eyes locked on the empty space before them, where just moments ago, the memory had played out like a divine revelation. Now, it was gone—vanished as if it had never been there. No more voices. No more images. Only the soft rustle of wind through the trees and the distant chirp of insects singing the twilight song.They had returned to the forest clearing.But something was different now.Everything was different.Carmen’s lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but nothing came out. Her mind raced, trying to stitch together the fragments of what she had just seen—the fire, the fury, the sorrow, the truths that unraveled like stars falling from the sky. Her chest tightened. Her fingers trembled.She turned to Calen, searching his face.She expected emotion—anger, denial, confusion, anything—but instead, he was still. Completely still. His gaze

The chamber was quiet, bathed in moonlight that poured through the tall windows like silver threads across marble floors. A warm summer breeze drifted in from the gardens below, carrying the faint scent of lavender and roses. The wind rustled the curtains softly, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.Queen Elara stood near the window, her slender hands gently cradling the barely-there swell of her belly.Outside, in the distance—faint, but undeniable—a flare of stormlight had danced across the horizon. Golden, electric, and furious. Like a heartbeat pulsing against the sky.Her chest tightened.She knew that energy. That impossible combination of storm and radiance.She would know it anywhere.“Calen…” she breathed, eyes brimming with a mixture of wonder and pain. “I miss you.”A hand pressed instinctively to her stomach. Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely louder than the wind.“My child… your father still lives.”Her heart ached, but for the first time in weeks, hope fl

The wind in the clearing had died, as if the world were holding its breath. Even the trees stood still, their leaves frozen mid-rustle. Only the flicker of firelight remained, casting long, wavering shadows across the mossy ground and the gnarled trunks surrounding them.Carmen knelt beside Calen, her breath shallow, one hand hovering just above his chest. His skin was clammy, his brows damp with sweat. The golden glow that had blazed from his body minutes ago was gone—faded into the air like mist at sunrise.“Calen…” she whispered, voice trembling.No response.Liora stood a few steps away with her arms crossed, frustration and unease written across her face. She shifted her weight from one boot to the other and glanced at the treeline like it might bite her.“Okay,” she said flatly, “either he’s unconscious or he's really committing to this tragic-hero nap thing. I vote we leave him and bolt before the next magical abomination shows up.”Carmen shot her a glare and gently shook Cale

Pain.That was the first thing Calen felt—a deep, bone-thudding ache across his back and shoulders, as if he’d been trampled by a herd of stampeding warhorses. His head throbbed, his limbs were stiff, and there was a faint ringing in his ears.But he was alive.Groaning, he slowly pushed himself up from the cold, uneven stone beneath him. Shadows loomed above—jagged and ancient, carved into arching walls that disappeared into darkness. The faint glow of the pendant Carmen had used earlier still flickered near his chest, casting long golden pulses into the gloom.He blinked.Carmen and Liora lay crumpled nearby, unconscious, their limbs splayed awkwardly on the stone floor. His breath caught, and he scrambled over, dropping beside them.“Carmen… Liora…”Their chests were rising. Thank the stars.Still, they weren’t waking.Gently, Calen reached out. His hand shimmered with soft arcs of electricity—controlled, delicate. With utmost care, he let the storm energy spark lightly against the

Drakhtarion’s Hidden TempleThe air grew thicker with every step they took. A weight hung in the atmosphere—not just the musty scent of dust and stone, but something older, something that hummed faintly against the skin like the charge before a lightning strike. The narrow corridor pressed in on them, the walls slick with moss and condensation. Roots snaked from the ceiling like skeletal fingers.The flame in Calen’s palm flickered as if reacting to the dark around them, burning a pale gold that barely pushed back the oppressive shadow.Carmen walked close behind, her other hand gripping the pendant now slung around her neck. It pulsed faintly in response to Calen’s magic, warm against her chest. Her eyes darted along the walls—every crack in the stone felt like it might open its eyes.Behind her, Liora huffed, boots squelching softly in the damp. “I’m going to be real honest, this is exactly the kind of place people die in tragic, ancient poems. You know, ‘and so they wandered into t