The moon hung low over the darkened valley as Kairo and Ayame stood side by side on the ridge, their cloaks flapping in the cold wind. Below them lay the ashes of Red Fang Fortress—its crimson banners now nothing more than charred fabric dancing with smoke. Kairo’s sword, the Whispering Fang, gleamed faintly in the moonlight, still humming with the rage of the fallen.“We’ve done it,” Ayame whispered, her voice filled with both relief and disbelief.Kairo nodded slowly but didn’t smile. “One battle, Ayame. Just one. The war isn’t over.”She looked at him, her amber eyes catching the moonlight. “It’s more than we had yesterday.”Behind them, what remained of the Silent Blade survivors—those rescued and those who had found their way back—gathered in solemn silence. Among them were boys barely old enough to wield a sword, hardened warriors with haunted eyes, and a few seasoned elders who once served Kairo’s father. The resurrection of the Silent Blade Order had truly begun.“We’ll rebuil

The wind howled through the jagged peaks as Kairo stood at the edge of the cliff, his cloak fluttering behind him. Beside him, Ayame kept her gaze locked on the fortress that loomed in the distance—Ethan’s domain. After everything they’d endured, the end was drawing near. But with it came the weight of every choice, every sacrifice, and every wound that hadn’t yet healed. Kairo clenched his fists, feeling the power of the Silent Blade humming beneath his skin. “We end this. Tonight.” Ayame touched his shoulder gently. “Not just for us. For all those who were silenced.” He nodded. The path had never been more dangerous, but it had never been clearer either. With their allies gathered below and the stars dimmed by the approaching storm, they began the final march toward Ethan’s fortress. Inside the walls, Ethan stood by a massive stained-glass window, watching the storm clouds swirl like hungry spirits. His dark robes cast long shadows, and his once-loyal generals stood uneasy behin

The moon hung low and blood-red in the sky, casting an ominous glow over the valley as Kairo and his allies approached the ruins of the Temple of Shadows. This was the place where Lord Ethan planned to complete the forbidden ritual—one that would merge his soul with an ancient malevolent entity and unleash chaos upon the realm.Ayame walked beside Kairo, her eyes sharp and steady, twin daggers glinting in her hands. Behind them followed Goro, fists clenched, the scent of earth clinging to his armor. Ryuu’s bow was strung and ready, an arrow of spirit-forged steel already nocked. And at the rear, Lira, her hands glowing with celestial fire, whispered prayers to keep their hearts steady.They had all come too far to fail now.The massive obsidian gate of the temple creaked open as they approached. The air was thick with dark magic, pulsing like a heartbeat. Inside, flames danced in bowls of black iron. At the center of the temple, Lord Ethan stood within a glowing circle, runes spinning

Kairo stood at the edge of the hill, overlooking the trail that led into the misty valley below. Dawn was only beginning to stretch its fingers across the sky, painting the clouds in muted golds and soft pinks. Yet, there was no peace in the air. The wind carried whispers, fragments of an ancient language that only the cursed recognized.Ayame approached from behind, silent as ever. Her presence no longer startled him; it had become a comfort, like the rhythm of his own heartbeat."They're close," she said simply, eyes narrowed toward the valley. "Too close."Kairo nodded. "I felt it too. The air’s heavy."The cult that had once followed Lord Ethan had not scattered with his death. No, they had grown bolder. Stronger. In his absence, a new leader had emerged—an enigmatic woman known only as Veyra, a priestess of the old blood, who claimed to hear the gods Ethan tried to summon. Worse, she had begun gathering artifacts from the ruined lands, intending to complete the dark ritual Ethan

A week had passed since the ashes of Blackthorn Citadel were scattered by the wind, yet a strange unease lingered like mist at dawn. Despite the celebrations, the training, and the slow but steady rebuilding of the Order, Kairo couldn’t shake the weight in his chest.Every night, his dreams were filled with crimson skies, shifting mountains, and a single whisper echoing across the void: “The gate is not sealed.”At first, he brushed it off as leftover anxiety—ghosts of war and grief. But after three nights in a row, he realized it wasn’t just a dream. It was a warning.He stood atop the ridge just before sunrise, the wind colder than usual. Ayame joined him minutes later, wrapped in a grey cloak, her dark hair dancing in the breeze.“You dreamt of it again?” she asked, her voice low.Kairo nodded. “Same symbols. Same voice. It’s always the same.”She looked out toward the horizon. “The Vale of Ember.”Kairo’s eyes darkened. “I think something’s stirring there. We’ve been celebrating v