The night hung heavy over the war-torn camp. Smoke coiled from scattered braziers, their light casting jagged shadows across the soldiers’ faces. The battle drums from the Riders still echoed faintly in the distance, like the heartbeat of a storm drawing closer. Kael stood in the center of the command tent, his hand clenched so tightly around the hilt of his blade that his knuckles turned white. The cliffhanger from before still burned in every warrior’s mind: someone among them had betrayed their position. The Riders had found their hidden supply line with uncanny precision. Too precise for coincidence. “Loyalty,” Kael murmured, his voice low but sharp enough to cut the silence. “It’s the only chain holding us together. Break it, and the kingdom falls before the dawn.” Shade leaned against one of the tent poles, his hood half-drawn, eyes glinting with unreadable amusement. “Chains cut both ways, Kael. Bind too tightly, and men will fight to break free. Leave them too loose, and the

The night pressed heavy over the camp, smothering even the smallest flame. Torches guttered in the wind, their light barely reaching past the first circle of tents. Soldiers huddled close to the fires, their armor piled at their feet, eyes darting toward the shadows as though every flicker might birth an enemy.The Riders’ horn had sounded twice that day—once at dawn, once at dusk—and each time it had thrown the camp into chaos. Scouts returned with conflicting reports. Some swore they saw shadows moving along the ridge. Others insisted it was only smoke, or tricks of the mist. No attack had come, yet the tension wound tighter with every hour.General Kael stood at the center of camp, his scarred face lit by firelight. He barked orders to the nearest squad.“Double the watches! And anyone caught sleeping on post will be flogged!” His voice carried iron. “If the Riders want us on edge, let them waste their horns. We’ll hold until their throats tear from blowing.”The men muttered, some

The camp held its breath.No crackle of flames, no shuffle of boots, not even the sigh of the wind dared to disturb the silence. Every gaze was fixed on Kael, standing tall at the center, with Eldrin on his knees before him and the dark amulet gleaming faintly in the firelight.The crowd was a storm waiting for his word to become lightning.Kael’s hand curled into a fist. He felt the weight of a hundred oaths pressing down on his shoulders. If he condemned Eldrin now, the camp would find unity in blood but at what cost? If he defended him, suspicion might poison every man and woman in their ranks.His voice came out low, steady. “Speak, Eldrin. To me, not the crowd. Speak as if my blade hangs above your neck. Why should I trust you still?”Eldrin raised his head. Shadows flickered across his pale face, but his eyes burned bright. “Because I’ve bled for this cause as much as any here. Because every time I vanished, I returned with knowledge that saved us. And because that amulet” he no

The firelight flickered unevenly across the war camp, stretching shadows long and sharp against the tents. It was supposed to be a night of quiet, a moment of breath before the storm broke at dawn. Yet the air was heavy, as though the very earth groaned under the weight of what was about to happen.Eryndor stood at the center of the circle his circle, though it no longer felt like his. His hand lingered near the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning faces that once radiated trust. Now, he read doubt, suspicion, and something darker in their expressions.Shade sat slouched against a post, his wrists bound in iron shackles, but his grin remained mocking, unbothered by his captivity. “You’ve brought them all together,” Shade said, voice carrying like poisoned silk. “How fitting. Shall I tell them, Eryndor, or will you keep choking on your lies?”“Silence,” growled Kaelen, stepping forward. His scarred jaw tightened, and his hand twitched toward his axe. “You’ll twist words until they cut

The battlefield trembled under the weight of clashing powers. Eldrin’s shadow-thread still pulsed across the broken earth, binding warriors and specters alike in his dark rhythm. Kael’s blade burned bright against it, his stance weary yet unyielding. Around them, the remnants of both armies had slowed their clash, sensing something heavier than steel and blood was about to fall.And then the air split.A scream not of pain, but of power rolled across the valley like thunder. The skies, already bruised with storm, cracked wider. Lightning curled upward instead of downward, dragged into a vortex of darkness that spiraled open. Out of that abyss, a single figure stepped forward, cloaked in smoke and shimmering frost: Isolde.Her eyes glowed with a violet fire, the same hue that once marked her as Kael’s ally, but now laced with abyssal black. In her hand, she carried no weapon at first only the raw, writhing essence of the void, shaped into a living flame that twisted between her fingers