2025-11-03 01:55:27
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Embers of the Fallen
The silence after the collapse was worse than the roar.It stretched on, heavy, aching, endless. Only the distant crumble of stone broke it, echoing like a dying heartbeat through the fractured vaults of Lundar.Blaze sat against the cold wall, his breath ragged. Dust and ash clung to his skin, sweat streaking through the soot. Every muscle screamed. Every pulse of his heart throbbed against the Stigma’s mark, flickering between molten gold and dying red.He could still hear Hydra’s last words—Forgive me, Regal… the fire was never meant to be yours.They repeated in his mind, again and again, like a curse that refused to fade.Grim crouched nearby, binding a gash along his arm, his face set in grim silence. Valor paced back and forth, armor dented, eyes burning with restless fury. Keith lay unconscious on a cot of scavenged cloth, his breathing shallow, his fingers twitching with the faint pulse of residual magic.The air reeked of scorched stone and iron. The heat still radiated from
The Serpent and the Silence
The first tremor hit just before dawn.It was faint at first, a low, pulsing vibration that rippled through the stone foundations of the guild keep. But within moments, the quiet tremor deepened into a growl. Chandeliers swayed. Maps fluttered from their pegs. Soldiers jolted awake, reaching for weapons before they even knew why.In the tower’s highest chamber, Grim’s eyes snapped open.The old general had been half asleep at his desk, a cup of untouched wine beside scattered reports. He froze, listening. The rumble was coming from below — far below. Not from the streets or outer walls, but the roots of the city itself.He was on his feet before the second tremor hit.A single streak of red light flashed through the window — faint, but wrong. It wasn’t fire. It wasn’t aura. It was something older.“Hydra.” Grim’s voice was a growl.The great serpent materialized before him in a ripple of golden mist, his eyes burning like miniature suns. The air seemed to bow beneath his presence.“Yo
Echoes Beneath the Flame
The rain had stopped hours ago, but the city still smelled of it—iron, smoke, and wet stone. In the high wards, torchlight shimmered faintly across puddles, casting golden veins through the darkness. Somewhere distant, a bell tolled once, hollow and cold.Most of Lundar slept uneasily that night. Some prayed. Others sharpened their blades in silence. All waited for dawn that might not come.But Blaze didn’t wait for dawn.He walked alone through the lower corridors of the keep, his steps echoing faintly against walls blackened by fire. His aura flickered around him in a dim glow, faint enough not to draw attention, bright enough to chase away the dark.The mark beneath his skin pulsed again—slow, deep, like a heartbeat that wasn’t his own. It tugged him downward. Toward the tunnels. Toward something ancient that whispered his name in a voice that didn’t belong to anyone living.He’d told no one where he was going. Grim would’ve called it reckless. Valor would’ve insisted on sending gu
The Fire Beneath the Throne
The ruins of the archives still smoked when the council gathered again.The flames had been extinguished, but the air reeked of burned parchment and charred stone. Every step through the lower halls crunched on shards of glass and fragments of what once held the kingdom’s history. Now it was all ash—pages, records, seals—everything that tethered truth to fact, gone.Hydra’s spectral coils filled the chamber, his golden eyes reflecting off the soot-stained walls like molten suns. The serpent god’s patience, usually calm and ancient, was frayed. Valor stood nearby, armor scorched, his hands balled into fists. Grim leaned against a collapsed pillar, his expression sharp as broken glass.Around them, the other council members had gathered—envoys, generals, and emissaries from the allied clans. Their voices collided like storm winds.“This is an act of war!” one shouted.“War? It’s treason!” another spat. “Someone from inside gave them access!”“They used our own seals!”“They were disguis
The Siege Within
The dawn came late to Lundar.A gray light seeped through the cracks of smoke that still veiled the city, spilling over rooftops and broken towers like a tired sigh. The storm had passed, but peace did not follow. There was something unnatural in the silence—a watchful tension that clung to the air. The people moved through the streets quietly, speaking in hushed tones, as if afraid the ruins themselves might be listening.Inside the guild keep, the council’s halls were far from calm. Patrols doubled their rounds. Every corridor shimmered faintly with wards etched overnight by trembling mages. The smell of iron and incense filled the air, an uneasy marriage of ritual and readiness.No one trusted anyone completely—not after the whispers, not after the assassins.Blaze hadn’t slept. He stood at the eastern parapet, eyes fixed on the horizon where the faint outlines of the Ebon Sovereignty’s warships lingered like shadows. They hadn’t attacked again. Not yet. But that was the trick of i
The Tower of Smoke
The first blast ripped through the sleeping city like thunder.Stone dust filled the corridors as Blaze sprinted through the inner keep, the sound of alarms echoing from every direction. Flames licked at the far end of the passage, painting the walls red. Valor ran beside him, armor half-buckled, his greatsword already drawn. Grim followed close, two knives glinting in each hand.“The envoy tower!” Valor shouted over the roar. “They’ve hit the second level!”Blaze didn’t answer. The floor trembled beneath their boots. Another explosion boomed above them, scattering fragments of glass and banners. Shouts rose from the courtyards—orders, panic, the clash of steel.They burst through the archway leading into the outer court. The air was thick with ash and rain. The envoy tower loomed ahead, one side wreathed in smoke, its upper balconies aflame. Guards swarmed the base, forming fire lines while mages tried to raise wards against the spreading fire.Hydra’s colossal form coiled above the
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