The night at Briarstead was calm, the river whispering softly against its banks, but inside Adrian’s war camp the air was taut with unspoken tension.Everyone was ready to sacrifice their lives for what they believed was worthy — for a just course. Yet, fear had no space to be welcomed.The fires burned low, warriors gathered in hushed circles, their voices carrying unease rather than triumph.They all had different thoughts running through their minds — Some were halt in-between victory, defeat and captivity.Adrian sat at the head of the command tent while he stormed into imaginary war-scene like a hallucination.“Could this victory be achieved through an ambush, getting more men, creating more strategies or letting the warriors undergo further trainings? — No… he soliloquized. Victory can be achieved in whichever way it could!”Maps sprawled before him, yet his mind was restless. The victory against Darius’s raiders had been decisive — too decisive. Why did they break so easily?Se

However Adrian's condition worsened by the day and everyone was losing hope.Here, only fate could decide his chance of survival since all medical interventions had already been exhausted to no avail. Adrian's condition had deteriorated to the point where the medical expert in charge of his treatment expected him to die.Miraculously, Adrian gradually began to recover until he eventually regained his strength.Adrian began preparing for war by honing his combat skills, studying military strategy, and gathering intelligence on the enemy. He also focused on building his physical strength and endurance, knowing the battles ahead would be grueling. Adrian's determination and resilience, forged during his recovery, fueled his readiness for the challenges of war.The army — encouraged by Adrian's quick recovery, moved at dawn — boots thudding against the frost-hardened earth, banners snapping in the wind. To the eyes of any passing villager, it was a host united — iron helms glinting, shi

The ridge quivered with the thunder of approaching drums. Every beat felt like a hammer against the heart, a countdown to ruin. Yet for one suspended breath, before steel struck steel, the world seemed to hold still.From the rise above the camp, Adrian watched his soldiers scramble into formation. Shields locked, spears bristled, but he saw it — the cracks in their unity, the doubt in their eyes. The letter had done its work.He gripped the hilt of his blade until his knuckles whitened. I should have burned that cursed parchment the moment I read it. Now, the weight of it pressed heavier than his armor.His gaze slid toward Selene. She stood with her unit of shadow-knights, her scar glowing faintly in the dim dawn. She looked unyielding, but Adrian knew her well enough to see what the others did not: the tremor in her stance, the storm behind her eyes.Do you stand with me still, Selene? Or will the serpent prove right?The thought burned like poison. Yet even now, despite his doubts

The ridge was no longer a battlefield — it was a cauldron. Fire consumed the rear wagons, smoke coiled upward, arrows rained like locusts. The cries of dying men mingled with the clash of steel. And beneath it all ran the sharper wound: betrayal.Adrian tore his blade free from a soldier’s chest and turned, his eyes narrowing toward the burning wagons. Panic spread like wildfire, captains shouting, lines faltering.“Myles!” Adrian bellowed across the din. “Rally the rear! Seal the breach!”But Myles — once the loudest to cry traitor — stood frozen, his face pale, his eyes darting wildly. Adrian’s chest clenched. Is it him? Did the serpent coil this close?He shoved the thought down. This was no time for hesitation. He charged through the smoke, cutting down two assailants who bore no crest — mercenaries planted to strike from within. Yet the doubt gnawed. If mercenaries were already inside the camp, then someone had opened the gates.And the letter’s words returned: Trust no one…Sel

The ridge trembled under the weight of war. Blood slicked the stones, and the cries of the wounded mingled with the clash of steel. Adrian and Selene fought shoulder to shoulder, a strange unity forged not by trust but by necessity. Each strike they delivered seemed to hold back the tide, yet both knew the enemy had not yet revealed its full hand.Then the horns came.Low, guttural, echoing through the valleys like the roar of some vast beast. Adrian’s head snapped toward the sound, his heart sinking. He had been waiting for it — dreading it.“The third strike,” he breathed.From the tree line below, new banners unfurled. Dark armor glinted in the firelight, ranks of fresh troops marching with brutal precision. At their center moved siege engines, towering constructs of iron and wood dragged by chains. And above them — Adrian’s breath caught — shadows circled, vast wings blotting out the sun.Selene’s grip on her sword tightened. “So this is Darius’s hidden blade.”Adrian nodded gr