The air was war. Flames from the warships scorched the sky, their cannons lighting the heavens like the judgment of gods. The crumbling throne chamber was now both battlefield and beacon, its blazing runes luring the Empire like wolves to fresh blood.And at the heart of it all Rashford, split between two selves, his soul tearing as his shadow clawed toward the throne.The Siege Begins“Protect the throne!” Kaelion roared, slamming his staff against the floor. A dome of azure flame erupted outward, catching the first volley of plasma bolts as they shattered against the barrier.The guardians who remained loyal to Golden Rashford rallied around Lysa, forming a shield wall of stone and light.But the shadow-touched guardians snarled like beasts, turning their spears toward their former brethren. The chamber devolved into chaos steel on steel, stone on stone, as loyalty fractured with every heartbeat.Rashford’s StruggleGolden Rashford gritted his teeth, forcing himself to rise. His kne

The throne hall was chaos.Stone split down the middle, golden fire crawling across the walls as if trying to consume the empire itself. The black banners of the Immortal Throne curled and burned, their emblems crumbling to ash.Rashford stood at the epicenter, no longer trembling, no longer fractured. His aura calm, steady, yet overwhelming forced even the most hardened priests to their knees.Varion’s jaw tightened. “You should not exist.”Rashford lifted his gaze, eyes like twin suns. “And yet, here I am.”The Fall of the PriestsThe war priests tried to rally. “Bind him! In the Emperor’s name!” They raised their staves, chains of blood-forged light whipping toward Rashford. But the moment they touched his aura, the chains unraveled, dissolving into harmless sparks.Rashford extended one hand, palm open. The fire around him surged and bent not wild this time, but precise, controlled.The priests screamed as their own incantations backlashed, flames coiling around their bodies. One

The streets of Ardent Crown were unrecognizable. Smoke rose from burning watchtowers, shattered gates lay in ruin, and the very air carried the roar of a city reborn in blood and defiance. The rebellion was no longer a whisper it was a storm.A City UprisingMerchants once crushed under taxes now stood shoulder-to-shoulder with beggars. Servants who had bowed their heads for lifetimes now carried spears stolen from fallen soldiers.The empire’s banners were torn down, set ablaze, and trampled underfoot as chants filled the air.“Down with the General!”“For freedom!”“For Oakwood!”Every voice struck like a hammer on the walls of tyranny.Figures Among the CrowdAt the edge of the palace gates, a young blacksmith named Taron swung a hammer not at iron but at chains, breaking locks to free prisoners dragged out for execution.Beside him, Mira, a healer who once treated noblemen’s wounds in secret, now tore strips of cloth to bind rebels’ injuries. Her hands glowed faintly with the spar

The collision shook the heavens. When Rashford’s blazing blade of unity clashed with the Wraith Ascendant’s void-wreathed claws, the shockwave split the clouds overhead.Golden flame and black fire spiraled upward, tearing through the night, painting the battlefield in chaos and brilliance. The courtyard shattered beneath them. Stone ripped apart as fissures spread outward, toppling walls and hurling rebels from their feet.But neither Rashford nor Varion yielded. They pressed forward, sparks of clashing power raining like a storm of stars.A Battle of SoulsEvery strike Varion unleashed was backed by the abyss claws that could shred steel, voidfire that consumed light itself. His wings struck like scythes, each beat splitting the air into blades of shadow.Rashford answered not with raw might, but with something deeper. Every swing of his colossal golden blade echoed with voices not his own the courage of the rebels, the memory of his fallen, and the hope of those who still fought.W

The battlefield was fire and shadow. Rashford stood at its center, sword blazing, blood dripping into the scorched earth. The Trialborn circled like predators, void and flame shaping their colossal forms.And above, the rift widened. From within came that voice again an ancient whisper carried on the wind of eternity. You are not alone, Rashford Oakwood. But those who stand beside you may not all stand with you. The words pierced deeper than any blade.Doubt in the FireRashford’s grip faltered for a heartbeat. His eyes swept across the rebels charging behind him Mira, Elwin, even hardened veterans who had once doubted him. All of them had risen because of his flame.But now? Now suspicion gnawed at his chest. Which one? Who among them will betray me? He could not afford distraction. Yet the whisper echoed, feeding doubt with every breath.The Trialborn struck. Rashford barely raised his sword in time, sparks raining as blade met voidsteel. He roared, forcing his doubts down, but the