All Chapters of LIROIDS: Chapter 41
- Chapter 50
60 chapters
The Kingdom Beyond the Sky
Seasons passed quietly in the lands beyond the mountains. No banners, no courts, only wind, river, and the soft hum of power that lingered where the old gods’ reach grew thin. Kindraloy.Here, Moon and Ciron made their home.They built no palace, only a circle of stones that caught sunlight and starlight alike. Travelers lost on mountain paths sometimes stumbled upon the place and spoke of a silver glow in the distance and a woman with eyes that held both dawn and night.For a time, there was peace.One evening, as twilight folded over the hills, Moon knelt beside the spring that had become their mirror to the world below. When she touched the water, ripples of light spread outward and returned to her palms like the heartbeat of the earth itself.Ciron watched from behind her. “The world listens when you breathe,” he said softly.She smiled faintly. “Then it must hear what I cannot yet say.”He tilted his head. “And what is that?”She turned to him, wonder in her eyes. “That something
The Covenant of Blood
Winter came gently to the high valley that Moon and Ciron called home. Snow drifted in soft spirals, coating the stones of their circle in quiet silver. Inside, the fire burned low.It was there, on a night when the wind sang like a lullaby, that Moon gave birth to her son.No thunder, no omen, only the soft cry of new life breaking the stillness.Ciron held the tiny child with hands that trembled. “He has your eyes,” he whispered.Moon smiled through tears. “And you're calm. We’ll call him Blood, so that we never forget what it cost to make peace.”The name sounded strange and sacred all at once, heavy with the promise of the line he carried: Liroid and Cirax, flame and storm.Word of the birth traveled faster than the wind. In Devon, Queen Irinrode woke from a dream of lilies turned red and knew her daughter had borne a child.She journeyed north through snow and danger until she stood again in the valley she had once feared to enter.Moon wept when she saw her. “Mother… you came.”
Blood of Promise
Years passed like quiet seasons in the valley of peace.The child named Blood grew strong and quick, his eyes the deep hazel of Liroid flame, and his hair pale as winter silver, which could change to raven black when he wanted. From the moment he could walk, the wind seemed to listen to him; shadows bent gently when he passed.He was gentle by nature, curious, kind, and unafraid of the world. Yet within him stirred the same restlessness that once haunted his forebears. The blood of two powerful lines could not remain still forever.Ciron watched his son from afar, seeing in him both wonder and danger. The boy’s gaze lingered too long on the edges of light, on the places between things.One evening, when the snow melted into mist, Ciron called him to the stone circle.“Do you know why your name is Blood?” he asked.The boy nodded. “Because it’s what binds us all.”“Good,” Ciron said softly. “Then learn what it means to guide what binds, not be ruled by it.”He began to teach the child
The Keeper of Assassins.
Spring crept softly across the high valley. The snows melted into silver streams that carried whispers down to the kingdoms below.Those whispers spoke of a child who could walk without sound, heal broken branches with a touch, and still the hearts of beasts with a glance.The mortals called him the Shadow-born.The spirits called him the Keeper of Assassins.Blood called himself simply his father’s student.He was fifteen when the first stranger arrived: a wounded soldier, pale and fevered, half-dead from the snows. Blood found him near the riverbank and brought him home. When Ciron laid a hand on the man’s chest, he felt the strange tremor of mortal war pulsing in his veins.“People below are fighting again,” Ciron said quietly. “For gold, for pride, for gods that stopped listening.”Moon’s eyes darkened. “The curse of men isn’t in their blood, it’s in their forgetting.”That night, when the soldier slept by the fire, Blood listened to the storm outside. “Father,” he said softly, “i
The Lady of Spline City
The valley had been home to Blood for nearly sixteen years.Now, at his father’s urging and his mother’s quiet blessing, he left it for the first time.Ciron pressed a small silver pendant into his hand, the symbol of balance between shadow and flame.“Go and learn what peace costs in the world beyond,” he said.Moon embraced him, whispering, “Remember who you are, no matter who they say you should be.”And so he journeyed east, down the mountain paths and across the plains until the great walls of Spline City rose before him, a city of mirrors and mist, where lights shimmered even at midnight.It was there, in the crowd of a winter market, that he first saw her.She stood by a fountain carved with dragons, her hair dark and shining, her eyes the color of amber in sunlight. She moved like someone accustomed to being unseen even while all eyes turned toward her.When she noticed his gaze, she smiled, a small, knowing smile that seemed to read his thoughts.“Staring is rude, traveler,”
The Warlord’s March
The winter markets of Spline City glittered as if nothing could touch them, yet beneath the marble streets something moved, slow, molten, patient.The people called her Payal, the Molten One, guardian and judge of the city’s flame-forges. Few believed she still walked among mortals; fewer still knew that every spark that lit a hearth was a fragment of her watching eye.From her temple deep below the city, Payal watched Blood and Lyra. She saw the quiet tenderness between them and the silver light that shimmered at his throat. And she smiled.“This is the one the shadows guard,” she murmured. “Let us see if his balance holds when love and duty burn together.”The false warOne dawn, horns blared across the city. Messengers cried that a warlord from the west marched toward Spline, demanding tribute and obedience. Panic spread like fire through the bazaars.Lyra ran to Blood. “They’re calling for defenders. You can’t go.”“I must,” he said, though uncertainty weighed on him. “If the worl
The Molten Blessing
The days after the false war were golden ones.Spline City, once ruled by fear and fire, now thrummed with new calm. The forges burned bright but gently, and the people whispered of a stranger whose courage had silenced the goddess herself.Blood and Lyra walked the marble terraces as evening lights shimmered on the canals. It was the first peace they had known together. No hiding, no omens, only the hush of a city breathing freely.But gods rarely rest when mortals dream of stillness.The goddess returnsOne night, as the festival fires flickered across the city, the air thickened with heat. From the reflection of the central fountain rose Payal, the Molten Goddess, her form a dance of flame and gold.She looked at Blood with a smile that was equal parts pride and curiosity.“You’ve changed the rhythm of my city,” she said. “Few mortals can say that.”He bowed. “I only sought to keep it from burning.”“And yet you burned brighter than any torch,” she replied. “Take this.”She lifted
The Child of Fire and Shadow
Weeks passed after the revelation in Spline City.The world around Blood and Lyra seemed gentler, as if even the wind knew to cradle what Lyra carried. The forge-lights burned low; the air shimmered with a faint warmth that came not from heat, but from promise.Lyra often pressed her hand to her belly, smiling as if she felt the pulse of another heart beating with her own. Blood would rest beside her, his fingers tracing the silver mark Payal had left upon his wrist.“This light,” he said softly, “it listens to the child.”Lyra looked up. “Do you think the gods will ever leave us alone?”“Perhaps not,” he replied. “But I think they’re learning how to bless without taking.”The return to the valleyAs winter faded into spring, Blood felt a pull stronger than any whisper from the gods, the pull of home.“We must tell my parents,” he said. “They should know before the child is born.”Lyra hesitated. “Will they welcome me? A woman of Spline, carrying a child touched by gods?”He smiled. “
The Child of Light
The valley had never felt so alive.Birds sang louder, lilies bloomed in colors no one remembered seeing before, and the streams sparkled like molten glass.Inside the old stone hall, laughter drifted for the first time in many generations. Moon could hardly believe it. After centuries of silence and solemnity, the Liroids were laughing.Family in laughterCiron set down a bowl of honeyed roots before Lyra and grinned. “Careful, daughter, they taste better than they look. Your husband once mistook one for a piece of wood when he was little.”Blood groaned. “Father, please.”Moon raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, I remember that day. He spent an hour pretending it was part of his training.”Lyra giggled. “That sounds exactly like him. Always too serious to admit a mistake.”Blood tried to protest, but Ciron patted his shoulder. “The Keeper of Assassins feared nothing, except his mother’s cooking.”Moon feigned offense. “My cooking kept this family alive through curse
The Gathering of Goddesses
The night of the birth came wrapped in starlight.The valley shone brighter than it ever had, the lilies opening even after dusk. A hush fell across the mountains, and the wind itself seemed to hold its breath.Then came the glow, three lights descending through the air like slow-falling comets.From them stepped the goddesses.Evilside arrived first, her gown woven of midnight. “I am not here for ceremony,” she announced, though her eyes softened at the sound of Lyra’s labored breath.Payal followed, molten gold and laughter. “And yet you came anyway. Admit it, sister, you’ve grown fond of these mortals.”Shil drifted last, pale and serene. “Fondness is another word for faith, and even you are learning it.”Evilside scowled lightly. “I am not your sister, and do not make me sentimental, Shil.”Payal chuckled. “Too late. You’re smiling already.”“I am grimacing.”“Of course you are,” Payal said sweetly.Ciron shook his head, whispering to Moon, “Even divine sisters bicker like mortals