THE FORGOTTEN SON-IN-LAW

Chapter Nine

Julian’s host arrived like a nightmare. Thousands of soldiers marched alongside the reanimated dead, their eyes glowing with ghostly fire. The city walls trembled as the drums of war pounded.

Adrian stood atop the battlements, Selene and Eleanor at his side. “Let them come,” he growled, raising the relic. “This city will not fall.”

The clash was apocalyptic. Kael’s raiders struck from the west while Julian’s undead swarmed the gates. Fire, steel, and sorcery turned night into chaos.

Adrian cut through foes like a storm, the relic blazing brighter than ever. Selene rallied the soldiers, her voice a beacon in the smoke. Eleanor, desperate to atone, led a covert strike that destroyed Julian’s siege engines.

But amid victory, a horror rose—Julian himself, cloaked in shadows, wielding a blade made of pure darkness.

When the relic met the shadow blade, the world itself seemed to tremble. Each strike split the air with force enough to shatter stone.

Julian’s laughter was cruel. “You cannot stop what I’ve become. Darkness itself bows to me!”

Adrian gritted his teeth. “Then let light break your chains!”

Their duel raged across the battlefield, both men consumed by destiny, by vengeance, by fate.

At the climax of the battle, Julian struck Selene with his shadowblade, sending her collapsing to the ground. Adrian roared in anguish, his heart shattering.

The relic blazed so brightly that even Julian staggered back, shielding his eyes. Energy exploded outward, annihilating undead legions in an instant.

When the light dimmed, the battlefield was silent. Kael had fled. Julian was gone. And Selene lay motionless in Adrian’s arms.

The battlefield lay silent, a graveyard of men and monsters alike. Adrian cradled Selene, her breathing shallow, her body trembling. Where Julian’s shadowblade had struck, a jagged scar burned with faint embers of darkness.

Selene’s eyes fluttered open. “Adrian…” Her voice was weak, yet steady. “I’m still here.”

But when Adrian tried to summon the relic’s light, Selene gasped in pain. Her scar flared. The relic’s glow dimmed as if bound to her very soul.

The city hailed Adrian as savior, cheering his name as soldiers lined the streets. The council of kings bowed before him, pressing for him to take the crown and unite the fractured lands.

But Adrian stood at the throne room steps, his gaze on Selene. “What good is a crown,” he whispered to himself, “if every light I summon brings her pain?”

As Selene recovered, whispers spread through the nobles’ halls. Some claimed her scar was a curse. Others said she was Julian’s spy, tainted beyond redemption.

Priests demanded she be examined, tested, even exiled. Adrian silenced them with a single glare, but doubt had already seeded itself in the court.

At night, Selene awoke screaming. The scar glowed brighter, shadowfire burning across her veins. Adrian rushed to her side, clutching her hand until the pain eased.

“I feel him, Adrian,” she confessed, trembling. “Julian. He’s not gone. He’s inside me somehow.”

Adrian’s heart hardened. “Then I’ll tear him out, piece by piece, if I must.”

Far from the city, Julian and Kael regrouped in the ruins of an ancient fortress. Kael sneered at Julian’s weakened state, but the necromancer’s eyes still burned with fire.

“She carries my mark,” Julian said with a cruel smile. “Through her, I will return. Through her, I will break him.”

Kael slammed his fist into the stone wall. “And I will gut him with my own hands. Together, we’ll make the world choke on his crown.”

Despite his resistance, the council of kings declared Adrian their high sovereign. The crown was placed upon his head amid thunderous applause.

But Adrian’s eyes never left Selene, watching from the shadows of the hall, her scar glowing faintly beneath her veil. His triumph felt like betrayal.

The high priests demanded Selene be cleansed in a sacred ritual. Against Adrian’s wishes, Selene agreed, desperate to free herself from Julian’s mark.

The ritual began at dawn. Holy fire surrounded her—but the scar only burned brighter. Priests screamed as shadows burst from the altar, killing two before Adrian drew the relic to save her.

Now, whispers turned to open fear. “The queen is cursed!” the people cried.

Adrian’s council urged him to put Selene aside, to take another wife, to protect the throne from scandal. Adrian’s rage shook the chamber.

“She is my wife,” he thundered. “She is my queen. And anyone who doubts her loyalty doubts me.”

But later that night, Selene whispered through tears: “Adrian… what if they’re right? What if I am the ruin of your crown?”

A wandering seer arrived at the gates, claiming knowledge of Selene’s scar. Brought before Adrian, she spoke in riddles:

“The scar binds life and death. The relic binds heart and soul. Together, they may heal—or destroy. But beware: a king who chooses vengeance over love will wear a crown of ashes.”

Her words haunted Adrian long after she was gone.

Julian and Kael unveiled their new army—not of men, not of corpses, but of creatures born from shadowfire itself. A horde of nightmares marched under their banner.

Messengers arrived at Adrian’s court, their faces pale. “The shadow hosts are moving, my king. They march not for your city… but for your queen.”

Adrian rose, relic blazing, his crown gleaming in the torchlight. “Then let them come,” he growled. “For they will find not a widow’s throne—but a king who will burn their world to the ground.”

The banners of the crown streamed above the army as Adrian rode at the front, the relic fastened at his side. Yet behind the cheers of his soldiers, he felt the stares of nobles watching his every move. They whispered of his inexperience, of his reckless devotion to a “cursed queen.”

General Varro, a grizzled veteran, rode up beside him.

“Your Majesty,” he muttered, keeping his voice low, “a crown is not won by mercy. When the shadows come, you’ll need more than love to save your throne.”