The night air was heavy with the stench of burning earth. Smoke coiled above the ruins of the outer camp, and every soldier who still had strength clutched their weapon like a lifeline. None of them dared to speak. Not after what they had just seen claw its way out of the fissure.The creature was no ordinary war-beast. Its body rippled with cords of sinew and scaled flesh, black ichor steaming off its skin as if the world itself tried to reject its presence. Six eyes gleamed a fiery crimson, set above a maw that could swallow a horse whole. Ancient runes burned across its chest, symbols that pulsed in rhythm with the earth’s trembling. The soldiers whispered only one name for such abominations, one torn from the oldest songs of the kingdom a beast of the Old Blood.Eldrin stood at the front, sword drawn, though his hand trembled against the hilt. The mark across his veins pulsed in time with the beast’s runes. It wasn’t just reacting it was resonating.“Eldrin…” Isolde’s voice cracke

The night bled red across the ruined horizon. Smoke and fire painted the capital’s bones in a cruel glow, and the beast’s distant roars rattled the earth like the heartbeat of some forgotten god. Eldrin stood at the center of the broken camp, his sword heavy, his veins burning with the curse’s black fire. Around him, soldiers whispered, their loyalty fraying like tattered banners in the storm.Isolde stood close but not close enough. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze torn between Eldrin and the figure tied to the scorched pillar in the camp’s heart her brother, Alaric.The cursed sigil carved across Alaric’s chest pulsed faintly, as though mocking them all. His eyes flickered open, wild and glassy. “You fools,” he rasped. “You think chains will hold the warlord’s will? He already moves through me.”The soldiers flinched. Some raised their blades, while others backed away. Murmurs spread: traitor, cursed, no different than Eldrin.Eldrin tightened his grip on his s

The night howled with steel and shadow.Eldrin and Alaric circled each other like beasts, their swords flashing beneath the wavering firelight. Each strike rang out sharp and merciless, each clash of iron heavier than the last. The men around them dared not move afraid to intervene, afraid to breathe too loud, as if the weight of the curse itself would turn on them next.Eldrin’s side burned where Alaric’s blade had torn him open. He could feel his strength bleeding out with every heartbeat, his vision narrowing. But still he pressed forward. His sword cut arcs of silver through the dark, fueled by desperation.“Stop fighting me!” Eldrin’s voice was raw, broken. “I don’t want to kill you, Alaric!”Alaric’s laughter cracked like thunder, wrong and guttural, the warlord’s echo twined inside it. “Kill me? You can’t even save yourself!”Their blades met in a violent crash, sparks spilling like falling stars. Alaric twisted, shadows flaring along his arm as he forced Eldrin back. His face

The night burned.The colossal beast towered above the ruins, its obsidian hide glowing with rivers of molten fire. Each breath it exhaled sent waves of heat rippling across the battlefield, turning steel red-hot and reducing men to ash where they stood. Its roar was not only sound but a living force, shaking the marrow of every soldier’s bones.Eldrin raised his sword, the shadows of his curse writhing across his arms. He had faced warlords, assassins, and cursed blood but nothing like this. The creature radiated power ancient as the earth itself, a terror dragged from the abyss to break kingdoms.Around him, the remnants of his army faltered. Men stumbled back, shields raised feebly against the beast’s fire. Some dropped weapons altogether, running into the night.“Hold the line!” Eldrin roared, his voice carrying over the chaos. “If we break, we die.”His command steadied some, but fear still gnawed at their ranks. The sight of their commander cloaked in writhing shadows was no com

The storm rolled in heavy over the ruined plains, black clouds swollen with thunder that never broke. The air itself seemed to pulse with tension, alive with the weight of blood yet to be spilled.Eldrin stood at the shattered gates of the fallen capital, the once-proud spires crumbling into jagged silhouettes against the lightning-split sky. His sword gleamed faintly, its edge streaked with the blackened ichor of the cursed. Every breath he drew burned with rage, with sorrow, with the weight of what was to come.Across the desolate field, the warlord emerged—armor jagged as broken glass, his helm wreathed in shadow. With every step he took, the earth seemed to tremble.And when the helm came off, the world itself seemed to freeze.It was Alaric.Isolde’s brother. Eldrin’s rival. Once the man he had sworn to protect, now the blade pointed at the heart of everything.“Brother,” Alaric’s voice was raw, half human, half something other. His eyes burned with a sickly crimson glow, veins b