Lex struggled to stand against the crushing weight of exhaustion.His limbs were heavy, his eyes drooping, his mind foggy. The ring on his finger pulsed weakly, its blue light flickering like a dying candle in a storm. Around him, his squad lay on the ground in various states of collapse. Dorian was on his back, staring at the grey sky, his chest rising and falling in slow, labored breaths. Kaela slumped against a broken wall, her bow still in her hand but her arm too weak to lift it. The brothers were on their knees, their yellow eyes dimmed, their heads bowed. Vincent lay motionless, his white hair spread across the dirt, the ring on his finger barely glowing. Guiller and Tarek struggled to stay upright, leaning on each other for support.Sloth stood before them, his fine armor gleaming in the grey light. The gold and silver plates were immaculate, untouched by the dust and rubble around him. His dark hair was messy, unkempt, falling across his forehead in tangled strands. His face

Lex led the column through the gates of Crown's Seat as the sun began to set.The golden light painted the city walls in shades of orange and red, but no one stopped to admire it. Soldiers rushed past, carrying supplies, reinforcing barricades, shouting orders. Citizens hurried through the streets, their arms full of food and water and blankets. Children clung to their parents' hands, their eyes wide with fear.The city was preparing for siege. The gates were being reinforced. The walls were being manned. Every able-bodied person was being put to work.Lyra rushed to help the wounded as soon as the column stopped.Her hands glowed with soft white light as she moved from person to person, her blue hair coming loose from its braid. She healed cuts, closed wounds, eased pain. Her face was calm, but her hands were shaking. She had never seen so many injured at once."Stay still," she said to a young soldier whose arm was burned. "This will only take a moment."The soldier nodded, his face

Dorian stood over Warjon, his blades raised, the black aura pulsing around them.The Sin of Sloth knelt on the broken ground, his golden armor cracked, his back bleeding. Blood dripped from the wound—dark red, almost black—pooling on the stones beneath him, seeping into the cracks. His sword lay in the dust where it had fallen, the golden light around it flickering weakly.For a long moment, neither of them moved.The ruins were silent. The grey sky pressed down. The wind had stopped. Even the dust seemed to hang still in the air.Then Warjon's body began to shake.Not from fear. Not from pain. From rage.Dorian couldn't hear the sound that escaped Warjon's throat—a guttural roar, raw and primal, echoing off the broken walls. But he saw it. He saw the way Warjon's face twisted, the way his eyes blazed with fury, the way his hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles went white.The Sin of Sloth reached up and tore off his damaged upper armor.The golden plates clattered to t

Dorian woke to silence.The world was gone. Not dark, not empty—just silent. The crackle of the hearth fire was a ghost. The murmur of voices in the hallway was a memory. He lay still for a long moment, staring at the wooden ceiling above him, trying to remember what sound felt like. The ceiling was made of dark beams, rough-hewn, spotted with knots. A spider had spun a web in the corner near the window. He watched it sway, but couldn't hear the breeze that moved it.His ears were bandaged. He reached up and touched the white cloth, felt the warmth of his own skin beneath. The cloth was soft, clean, wrapped carefully around his head. The ringing that had plagued him for days was gone. Everything was gone. The world was a painting without music.He sat up slowly, his body aching, his wounds protesting. His ribs throbbed. His arms were stiff. The room was small—a bed, a table, a window looking out onto the courtyard. A candle flickered on the bedside table. Its flame danced, but he coul

The world was still frozen. Time had stopped. But the kid in the kingly robes kept clapping.The sound was wrong—too sharp, too loud, echoing off the frozen stones like a hammer striking glass. It didn't fade. It hung in the air, vibrating, pressing against Lex's ears. The watch on his wrist had stopped ticking. The second hand hung motionless, frozen between one moment and the next.Ping.A blue panel materialized in front of Lex's face, glowing faintly in the frozen light. The words were red, not the usual calm blue. Urgent. Desperate.[SYSTEM WARNING]Threat Level: UNKNOWN.Recommendation: IMMEDIATE EVACUATION.Do not engage. Do not speak. Do not make eye contact.Run.Lex stared at the panel. He had seen this warning only once before—when he first encountered Kaelthas, the Sin of Greed, in the forest outside Ironstead. He had ignored it then. He had fought. He had won.But this time was different.The kid lowered his hands. His smile widened. He walked around Lex slowly, his boots