Chapter 1: Black ReachWhen death draws near and shadows swell, we rise together, breaking the spell.The first light of morning spilled like molten gold across the empty grasslands. The air was sharp and hollow, carrying the faint scent of decay, like something sacred had long since rotted. The breeze whispered of corruption, a voice only the damned could hear.No birds sang here anymore. No animals stirred. The land had fallen silent after The Fall. What life once thrived was now still, as if even the earth itself was holding its breath. The quiet was so deep it pressed against the heart, heavy and suffocating.And within that stillness, an army waited.The Blood Knights of House Blackthorn stood row upon row, eyes glowing like embers in the cold light. Their hair, crimson and wild, burned like living flame against the gray of the world. They rode upon creatures that were neither horse nor beast, things of slick, hairless muscle and pale green skin stretched too tight over bulging v

Aric Blackthorn’s eyes snapped open, the faint light of dawn flickering across the ceiling above him like red embers caught in ash. For a few moments, he couldn’t breathe. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his fingers digging into his scalp as if he could claw away the fragments of a dream that refused to die.His heartbeat thundered in his chest, wild and uneven. Then, unexpectedly, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He froze. Tears. He hadn’t cried in years.He forced himself to breathe, slow and steady, repeating the words of the Blackthorn Creed in his mind. Each line was like cold water washing through his thoughts, clearing the haze, tightening his focus. The trembling in his hands faded, his pulse slowed, and his body began to calm.Not again.His fists clenched until the knuckles turned white. The nightmare was gone, but the ache it left behind still pulsed like a scar that never healed. It didn’t come every night, but when it did, it always dragged him back to the same

The sun hung high like a merciless overseer, its scorching light beating down on the ancient stone walls of the fortress known as the Black Reach.Aric Blackthorn stirred awake in one of the upper chambers, a place reserved for those few of the Blackthorn bloodline bold enough to climb this far. There were no elevators here, no humming engines to ease the climb. Most of the old world’s technology had long vanished, buried under the ruins of what people now called the Fall.Time had swept away those wonders like sand through fingers, leaving behind only fragments of knowledge locked away in dusty vaults or dismissed as forbidden relics of a dead age.Aric climbed the winding stairs anyway, his boots echoing against the stone. The soldiers he passed, scarred and battle-hardened, watched him with barely hidden scorn. Whispers followed him like shadows, but he ignored them.When he reached the top, the balcony opened to a sight both brutal and majestic. A line of armored warriors stood be

Time slipped quietly through the forest as Aric Blackthorn and Seris moved beneath the bare branches, their footsteps light and soundless. They traveled until the trees gave way to a clearing, revealing the broken silhouette of a manor swallowed by decay and silence.The building stood like a monument to forgotten glory, its cold stone walls weathered by time. This had been Aric’s inheritance—bestowed upon him at twelve, the age when every Blackthorn heir was meant to awaken and claim their destiny. It was meant to be his stronghold, a symbol of nobility and promise.But to Aric, it was no throne. It was a prison.The house that should have marked his rise had instead become a tomb of quiet isolation. His parents, once powerful and proud, were long gone—casualties of the brutal politics that consumed the clan.Without allies or favor, Aric had become a ghost among his own bloodline. No one wanted to tie their fate to a boy who had failed to evolve, who carried the Blackthorn name but

Aric Blackthorn shut the massive oak doors of the dining hall behind him and stepped into the night. The air was cool, the manor surrounded by a forest so thick that the moonlight barely touched the ground. Sleep had long abandoned him; rest was a luxury he neither needed nor wanted. His mind and body were restless, drawn once again to the training fields he had carved into existence through sheer willpower and discipline.High above, perched on a tall branch, a pair of crimson eyes followed him through the darkness. Seris watched silently, her face unreadable, her posture still as stone. The flicker of torchlight reflected off Aric’s skin as he moved, muscles straining with every motion, each swing of his blade echoing with raw exhaustion. Sweat and blood shimmered under the faint light, but Seris didn’t flinch. Her expression didn’t waver. She only watched, calm and cold, as if carved from marble.Time slipped by unnoticed until she finally moved. With the silent grace of a shadow,