The Edge of DarknessThe air was thick with tension as Lian stood at the edge of the ruined temple, the oppressive shadow of the Blood Key’s curse gnawing relentlessly at his soul. The storm above mirrored the turmoil within him—roiling, unpredictable, ready to burst. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale feeling like it pulled the dark poison deeper into his veins.Mira’s voice echoed in his mind—a fragile lifeline. “You can fight it, Lian. There’s a way. I found something.” But the god’s voice, cold and commanding, whispered louder, tempting him to surrender.The cursed power clawed at his consciousness, promising strength beyond measure if only he would yield. The altar’s jagged stones seemed to pulse with a sinister life, the ancient runes glowing faintly in the gloom. Lian’s hands trembled as he reached out, a part of him aching to embrace the darkness for the power it offered. But another part, the part that still remembered who he was, screamed to resist.Behind him,

THE FALL OF TRUSTThe camp no longer felt like a refuge.Lian sensed it the moment he crossed the boundary stones—before anyone spoke, before eyes turned away too quickly, before hands tightened around weapons that should have been lowered in his presence. The air itself felt wrong. Heavy. Fractured.Fear had seeped into the rebels’ bones.Whispers rippled through the clearing as he approached. Conversations died mid-sentence. Someone made the sign against the gods. Someone else stepped back as if his shadow might bite.Lian ignored them and walked on.The fire at the center of camp burned low, its flames dull and colorless. Around it stood the leaders of the rebellion—men and women who had once followed him without question, who had bled for him, who had sworn oaths beneath broken moons.Now they watched him like a weapon that might turn in their hands.Mira stood near the fire, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Relief flashed in her eyes when she saw him—but it was quickly smot

Shadows in the PalaceSerah had never been a stranger to the darkness that lingered in the palace corridors. For years, she’d walked them with confidence, her mind sharpened by the secrets she kept and the duties she was entrusted with. But tonight, as she moved through the shadowy halls, an unease gnawed at her. Something was wrong. The weight of the air felt thick, as if the very walls were closing in on her.Every step echoed too loudly, every whisper seemed louder than usual. The palace was no longer the safe, predictable place it once was. Not since Lian had been thrown into the abyss. Not since the rebellion had begun to take shape, threatening to topple everything that the royals had built.Serah reached the old library, where she often hid from the prying eyes of the court. She needed a moment alone to think, to strategize. The rebellion was growing stronger by the day, and she feared for the lives of those she’d come to care for.As she entered, she pulled the heavy oak door

The Black Ghost RisesThe first thing Lian felt was silence.Not peace—never that—but a vast, breathless stillness that pressed against his skin like the space between heartbeats. Then the air had sealed itself, leaving behind scorched stone and terrified men frozen mid-breath.Then the silence broke.Whispers rippled across the battlefield.“He’s alive…”“By the gods…”“Look at his eyes.”Lian pushed himself upright slowly. His body screamed in protest, muscles trembling, veins still faintly glowing beneath his skin like dying embers. Smoke curled from his shoulders. The air around him felt heavier, warped—as though reality itself bent slightly toward his presence.He lifted his head.The rebels stared at him in awe and fear, weapons forgotten in their hands. Some had fallen to their knees without realizing it. Others stepped back instinctively, crossing protective charms over their chests.Mira stood a few paces away, her face streaked with soot and tears.“Lian,” she breathed.He

THE DEPTHS OF DESPAIRThe world ended quietly.Not with fire or screaming crowds or the roar of gods—but with silence.Lian lay on his back in the ruins beneath the shattered outer wall, staring up at a sky choked with ash. Snow drifted down in slow, lazy spirals, melting as soon as it touched the scorched stone around him. He couldn’t feel the cold. He couldn’t feel much of anything at all.Betrayal hollowed a man faster than any blade.The rebels were gone.Some dead.Some scattered.Some—traitors.He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memories burned brighter in the darkness.The ambush.The signal that came too early.The gates opened from the inside.And the look on Jarek’s face—the man who swore loyalty in blood—when palace soldiers poured through the breach.I’m sorry, Jarek had mouthed, even as he turned away.Lian’s fingers curled into the dirt until stone cracked beneath his nails. A low sound crawled up his throat, something between a sob and a growl.“I trusted you,” he whisp