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Home / Urban / THE FORGOTTEN SON-IN-LAW / Chapter One hundred and seventy-seven
Chapter One hundred and seventy-seven
Author: Sugar boy
last update2025-10-04 18:55:46

The battle did not end, but it changed.

All across the field, the rhythm of war began to falter. Men who had been screaming seconds ago now hesitated mid-strike.

The pounding of feet slowed; the clang of steel came in stuttering bursts, uncertain. It was as though the air itself had thickened — heavy, electric, alive.

Every soldier, ally and foe alike, turned toward the center of the chaos where two figures now faced one another across a wasteland of blood and ruin.

Adrian. Selene.

The wind shifted, carrying with it the smell of ash and blood, and the faint hum of something ancient stirring beneath the earth.

The Soldiers’ Stillness

Kael was the first to sense it. From where he fought at the southern ridge, his sword halfway buried in an enemy’s chest, he froze. His gaze lifted toward the heart of the battlefield, toward the two who had once been one.

He didn’t need sight to know what was coming — he could feel it. The tension between them wasn’t mere hatred or vengeance. It was some
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  • Chapter Two hundred and Fourteen

    The Man Who Stepped Out of the VoidThe world was black fire.It moved, it breathed — but not like wind or water. It was hungry.Adrian opened his eyes into that living dark and felt it watching him. The Blight wasn’t a place; it was a pulse, a vast, devouring will that wanted to make him part of its silence.He stood — or thought he did. There was no ground, no sky, just a shifting horizon of ash and glass. His body flickered between shadow and flesh, his breath steaming like smoke. When he reached for his chest, his hand sank into faint light instead of skin.Not dead.Not alive either.The voice came from everywhere — and nowhere. You defied the Master once. You defied peace itself.Adrian turned. Shapes stirred in the dark — faces, hundreds of them, whispering fragments of his own thoughts back at him.You were her blade. You were her betrayal. You were her undoing.“Enough,” he said hoarsely. His voice echoed like thunder cracking in a vacuum. “You’re not real.”The whispers lau

  • Chapter Two hundred and Thirteen

    The Pulse Between WorldsThe first thing Selene felt was pain — not her own, but something deeper, older, echoing from a place beyond sight. It thrummed through her veins like the toll of a distant bell. She gasped and clutched her chest, staggering as the battlefield around her blurred.“High Priestess!” one of the Veyne soldiers called, but she barely heard him. Her mind was elsewhere — caught between two worlds.For a heartbeat, she saw nothing but shadow. Then — light. A flare of white fire bursting through the dark, so bright it tore through the edges of her consciousness. And within it… Adrian.His name didn’t leave her lips, but her soul screamed it.Adrian.He was alive.The certainty hit her like lightning. She had feared — though she never said it aloud — that when the void swallowed him, he’d been lost forever. The Blight had a hunger that devoured not only bodies but souls. But now, she felt him like a heartbeat in her chest — ragged, desperate, but burning still.She s

  • Chapter Two hundred and Twelve

    The Edge of the BlightSilence.That was the first thing Adrian heard — not the peaceful kind, but a hollow, suffocating void that pressed against his ears until even his heartbeat seemed stolen. The world around him was black, though not empty. It pulsed faintly, as though the dark itself were alive — breathing, watching, waiting.When he moved, the air rippled like tar. His boots didn’t touch the ground; there was no ground, only a shifting haze that swallowed every trace of light. He couldn’t tell where the horizon ended or if one existed at all. The Blight — he knew it without needing to think. The barrier between realms. The grave of gods and dreams.He tried to speak. “Selene—”But the name died before it reached his lips, the sound devoured by the dark.Something cold coiled around his wrist, a whisper in the dark silk of the void. He jerked his arm away, but the tendril dissolved, leaving behind a sting that burned with a strange familiarity — not pain, but memory.“Do you

  • Chapter Two hundred and Eleven

    When the Walls RememberThe wind had sharpened into a scream.Selene stood by the window slit, her breath fogging against the cold stone, as the howling outside rose to a pitch that seemed almost alive.Varin had gone still — utterly still — one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his head tilted slightly toward the sound.“They’ve found us,” he murmured.Before she could ask how, the first impact shook the outer gates. A thunderous clang rang through the citadel, followed by another, and another — rhythmic, purposeful.Selene’s pulse quickened. “How many?”Varin’s eyes glinted. “Too many.”He turned to her with a look that cut through hesitation. “Stay behind me.”“I won’t,” she snapped. “I didn’t come this far to hide behind anyone’s blade.”The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips — grim, approving. “Then you remember what it means to be queen after all.”The torches flickered as they moved toward the great doors of the hall. Snow drifted down from the cracks in the roof,

  • Chapter One hundred and Ten

    The Ghost of KingsThe great hall of Orren was a cathedral of shadows.Frost glittered along the pillars like veins of glass, catching the dull gold of the torches Varin had lit. The air smelled of iron and old magic — the kind that lingered long after the last spell was cast, as if the stones themselves refused to forget.Selene moved slowly through the chamber, her steps echoing like whispers between the walls. Each breath she took rose in faint, silver clouds.“This place…” she murmured. “It feels alive.”“It is,” Varin replied from behind her. “Orren was built on the blood of seers. The stones remember everything that happens within them — every oath, every death, every betrayal.”She turned, watching him as he stripped off his gauntlets. His face looked older now than she remembered — not by years, but by weight.His once-black hair was silvered, his armor dented and dulled by countless unseen wars.“You said you still served Adrian,” she said quietly. “Then tell me the truth, V

  • Chapter One hundred and Nine

    The Keeper of the NorthThe snow began to fall long before Selene reached the gates.Not the gentle flakes of peace she remembered from her childhood in Veyne, but cold razors that cut through the mist, stinging her skin and biting through her cloak.Her horse had long since fallen behind, exhausted by the climb through the frost-veiled passes. Now she walked, her boots cracking ice over the dead stones of the forgotten northern road — the old road to the Citadel of Orren.Few remembered Orren now. Fewer still dared to go there.The place had been abandoned decades ago after the Great War — a fortress built by men who once swore loyalty to Adrian’s bloodline.Her steps echoed hollow between the cliff walls, the sky dimming to the bruised purple of near-night. Every sound made her twitch — the scrape of her blade at her side, the hiss of her breath through her teeth. She knew she was being followed.The serpent’s scouts never stopped hunting.Still, she pressed on. The scar beneath

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