The Last Stand BeginsThe morning air was thick with tension, charged like the calm before a violent storm. Every breath felt heavy as the rebels gathered at the edge of the forest, their faces drawn tight with resolve and exhaustion. The weight of what was to come pressed on them like a crushing stone. The final assault on the palace wasn’t just a battle—it was their last chance for freedom, their only hope to end the reign of gods and kings alike.Lian stood at the forefront, cloaked in shadows as the Black Ghost he had become. His eyes, dark and fierce, scanned the mass of rebels before him—men and women hardened by loss, betrayal, and dreams of a new dawn. His voice cut through the quiet like steel.“This is it,” he said, his words measured but powerful. “Today, we reclaim what was stolen. The Blood Key is no longer just a curse—it is a weapon. And it will be the end of their tyranny.”Mira stepped forward, her presence calm yet commanding. Her gaze met Lian’s, steady and unwave

INTO THE FIGHTING PITSThe stench hit Lian before the sound.Blood. Sweat. Rot.It clung to the air so thickly it coated his tongue, seeped into his lungs, settled into his bones. The underground fighting pits lay beneath the eastern slums, carved out of old stone and forgotten tunnels, far from the palace—but no less cruel.Lian stood at the entrance, shirtless, chains still hanging loosely from his wrists as if the world refused to let him forget what he was.A slave.Or at least, what he used to be.A guard shoved him forward. “Move.”Lian staggered a step, boots scraping stone. The crowd’s roar rolled up from below like thunder trapped underground—thousands of voices shouting for blood, for pain, for spectacle.For death.He descended the steps slowly, forcing his breathing to stay even. The Blood Key beneath his skin pulsed once, faint and warm, as if sensing the violence ahead. He ignored it.Not yet.The pit opened into a massive circular arena carved from black rock. Iron cage

Control and ConsequencesThe pit smelled of blood, iron, and fear.Lian stood at its center, chest rising and falling too fast, his fingers curled into fists he didn’t trust anymore. Around him, the arena roared—not with cheers this time, but with something sharper. Anticipation. Hunger.They felt it.Whatever had awakened inside him during the last fight hadn’t gone unnoticed.Across the sand, his next opponent was dragged forward and unchained. The man was older, scarred, his eyes hollow with the knowledge that the pits rarely offered second chances. He lifted his gaze to Lian—and flinched.Not at Lian’s stance.At the faint, shifting marks beneath Lian’s skin.“Fight,” the overseer barked.The gates slammed shut.The moment stretched.Lian swallowed hard as guilt crept up his spine, cold and heavy. I can’t lose control again. The memory of the last battle still burned—how power had surged without warning, how something inside him had fed.A life, almost taken.Almost isn’t enough

Bonds That Bind The dim light of dawn seeped through the cracked walls of the rebels’ hideout, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Mira sat quietly, her fingers tracing the faint scars on Lian’s forearm where the Blood Key glowed faintly beneath his skin. The mark pulsed softly with every touch, an unspoken connection tightening between them.Lian’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his body still raw from the fighting pits and the battle to save Mira. Yet, despite the weariness, his gaze never left her. The silence between them was thick, filled with the weight of unspoken fears and fragile hope.“Why does it pulse?” Mira whispered, breaking the silence as her hand lingered over the glowing symbol.Lian exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. It’s like it reacts to you… like the bond between us is more than just a curse or a mark. It’s alive.”Mira’s heart fluttered painfully. She had felt it too—the pull, the undeniable force that tied them together in ways neither could explain. I