The forest was quiet again, but it was not the silence of peace—it was the silence of something watching. The survivors moved like ghosts, speaking only when necessary, their eyes darting toward Kael when they thought he wouldn’t notice. Some clutched charms, whispering prayers to ward off the darkness he had summoned.Kael felt their fear more than he heard it. Every step he took seemed heavier, every glance from them like a blade pressed to his throat. He wanted to tell them he was still the boy who once played in the riverbanks of their fallen kingdom, the one who carried water for the elders, who laughed when his little sister smeared ash across his face. But that boy felt like a shadow now, fading behind the weight of the Blade.Mira walked beside him, her steps firm though her face was drawn with fatigue. She had not left his side since the battle. “You’re quiet,” she said finally.“Would words change what they think?” Kael murmured, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.She studied

The shard of crystal pulsed in Adrian’s hand like a living heart, each beat sending a wave of cold through his veins. He tightened his grip, forcing himself to breathe steadily. If he let the power overwhelm him, he feared it would consume more than just his body—it would take his will.Mira’s hand touched his shoulder gently. “Adrian, that thing isn’t just a relic. It’s binding you. We need to destroy it.”“No,” he said firmly, though the word trembled with doubt. “If this crystal is connected to the storm… then it may be the key to stopping it.”Kael frowned, his bow still drawn as his eyes scanned the shadows. “Or it may be the key to unleashing it. Don’t forget what happened with the guardians. We barely survived that.”The courtyard seemed darker now, the stars above swallowed by drifting clouds. The silence was heavy, pressing against their ears. Then, faintly, came the sound of footsteps—not the metallic march of the guardians, but something lighter, more deliberate.“Someone’s

The air inside the hidden chamber felt heavier than the world above. Every torch burned low, casting shadows that stretched like claws along the stone walls. Kael stood at the center, the cold steel of his blade still humming faintly from the clash with the assassins. The silence that followed was not peace—it was a warning.Isolde broke it first.“You can’t keep carrying this burden alone, Kael,” she whispered, her voice echoing with both fear and determination. “The kingdom isn’t just falling—it’s being pushed.”Kael’s jaw tightened. His hand clenched the hilt of his sword until his knuckles went pale. “Pushed… by who?” he asked.Before she could answer, Eldrin stepped forward from the shadows, the weight of his staff dragging against the floor. The old sage’s eyes, sharp despite his age, glimmered with secrets that none of them had yet earned.“The council of the Fallen Throne,” Eldrin said grimly. “They orchestrate every betrayal, every whisper, every blade drawn in the dark. They

The battlefield burned as though the very heavens had split open. Kael’s sword trembled in his hand, not from weakness but from the weight of the moment. Before him, the masked commander stood at the center of the storm he had summoned, the inferno spiraling into a crown of fire above his head.For the first time, Kael understood the whispers that had haunted the ruined keep. This was no warlord, no mere pretender. This was a force that sought to unmake kingdoms—not rule them.Isolde’s voice broke through the blaze. “Kael! If we stand here, we’ll burn alive!”Eldrin’s staff pulsed with frantic light as he strained against the shadows creeping from the commander’s inferno. “The flame is not natural. It feeds on fear. If you break, it consumes you whole!”Kael’s jaw tightened. Fear clawed at the edge of his resolve, whispering of failure, of ash, of endless ruin. But beneath that fear, another voice stirred—the memory of his father’s last words, spoken on the night the kingdom fell:Do

The march to the mountains drained every ounce of strength the survivors had left. For three days they trudged through thickets and rivers, their footsteps heavy, their hope thinner than smoke. Children whimpered against their mothers’ shoulders, soldiers carried comrades too weak to stand, and Kael pressed on at the front, his blade like a beacon leading them into the unknown.The Ruined Spires rose before them at last, jagged black peaks clawing at the storm-filled skies. Lightning carved across their ridges, thunder rolling like the growl of some ancient beast. The sight made even the bravest falter.Isolde muttered under her breath, “This place was never meant for men.”Eldrin’s staff glowed faintly, as though resisting the pull of the mountain. “The Spires were once a citadel of kings. But when their pride reached beyond the gods, the stone cursed itself. Time broke it, storms devoured it, and the dead never left.”The villagers shivered, clutching charms and prayers. Yet Kael st