2025-09-22 02:36:00
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Season 3-Chp 61
The air shifted the moment they crossed the jagged ridge that marked the border. Behind them, the world was gray and broken but still alive—villages clinging to survival, rivers carving their course. Ahead stretched only ruin.The Wastes were not mere land; they were a wound. The ground was blackened and cracked, pitted with glassy scars where firestorms had once raged. The sky hung low and coppery, a perpetual twilight that blurred the hours. Winds carried the acrid stench of smoke and something older, like burnt blood.Helena tightened her cloak as the gusts whipped around her. “I don’t like this,” she muttered.“You weren’t meant to,” Marcus replied grimly. “No one was ever meant to walk here.” His hand stayed close to his sword, his eyes scanning the emptiness as if every shadow might sprout teeth.Elias said nothing. He walked ahead, his pace steady, his jaw locked. The Wastes whispered to him more strongly than to the others. Not words, not yet—but impressions, pulses of hunger,
Season 3-Chp 60
The refugee camp stirred long before dawn. Smoke curled from dying fires, the air heavy with the smell of damp ash and unwashed bodies. As Elias, Helena, Marcus, and the child Lira prepared their meager supplies, whispers followed them like a tide.“Don’t go,” one man pleaded, clutching Elias’s sleeve with trembling fingers. “We need you. The council is in ruins. You’re the only one they’ll listen to.”Another spat in the dirt. “He’s running. Just like before. He’ll leave us to starve.”The crowd pressed closer, torn between desperate hope and bitter resentment. Some knelt, murmuring blessings. Others raised fists.Elias mounted his horse, his voice steady but distant. “I am not your king. My fight lies west.”A murmur of fury rose at that, but Helena’s hand fell to her sword, her glare enough to silence it. Marcus swung onto his own mount, his limp obvious even from horseback. He muttered to Elias, “One day, you’ll have to stop running from their crowns.”Elias gave no answer. He onl
Season 3-Chp 59
The fortress loomed behind them, its towers blackened, its banners tattered. Elias did not look back as he, Helena, and Marcus descended the broken road beneath a shroud of night. The council’s voices still rang in his ears—shouting, scheming, tearing each other apart before the stones had even cooled. He had left them to their arguing, knowing his presence only fanned the flames.The night air was sharp, filled with the acrid tang of smoke. The land bore the scars of the Shadowlord’s passing: fields scorched, streams choked with ash, groves stripped of life as though winter had sunk its claws in early. Every step away from the fortress felt like a step deeper into a wounded world.Helena walked close, silent, her sword strapped across her back though her body cried for rest. Marcus trailed slightly behind, his limp pronounced but his jaw set. None of them spoke until the fortress lights were a faint glow swallowed by distance.Helena broke the silence first. “They’ll tear each other
Season 3-Chp 58
The battlefield still smoked, a graveyard of steel and ash. Where the Shadowlord had fallen, the ground itself seemed scorched beyond recognition, as though the earth had tried to reject his existence. His flames no longer roared, yet the air remained heavy, clinging with the scent of burning flesh and charred stone.Elias stood among the ruins, his sword lowered, the faint glow finally fading from its edge. Around him, silence hung—a silence too vast, too heavy—until the cries of the living broke it apart.The freed soldiers staggered, blinking as though waking from a nightmare. Some collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads. Others screamed in anguish as memories returned: the battles they had fought, the innocents they had slain, all under the Shadowlord’s binding will. The chains of the Crown were gone, but what remained was worse—freedom without forgiveness.Helena leaned against a broken pillar, her armor scorched, one side of her face streaked with soot. “We won,” she sai
Season 3-Chp 57
The fires smoldered long into the night, sending black plumes twisting toward the heavens. The battlefield was silent now, save for the crackle of dying embers and the faint moans of the wounded. The Shadowlord was gone, his ashes scattered by the wind. But the victory brought no celebration—only a heavy, uncertain quiet.Elias stood at the center of it all, his sword still faintly glowing, blood streaking down his arms from where the chains had bitten deep. He swayed on his feet but refused to fall. Every eye was on him—the councilors on the wall, the soldiers who survived, the newly freed souls stirring awake in confusion.Whispers rippled through the crowd.“The heir…”“He hid it from us…”“Is he our savior, or another tyrant?”Helena stood close, her blade sheathed, but her hand hovered near the hilt as if ready to defend him—or strike him—depending on what came next. Marcus was on Elias’s other side, shield strapped to his back, gaze sweeping the crowd with the instinct of a sold
Season 3-Chp 56
The battlefield burned. Ash choked the night sky, blotting out the stars, and the fortress walls glowed red from the reflection of fire below. Elias stood amid the chaos, sword blazing with the pale-blue fire of his bloodline, staring across the field at the Shadowlord.The Crown fragment pulsed on his brow, dark and jagged, like a shard torn from the heart of night itself. Chains of shadow stretched from it into the chests of the Bound Souls, tugging their wills like puppets on strings. With every flick of his crimson whip, the Shadowlord dragged another wave of innocents forward.Helena and Marcus fought back-to-back near Elias, freeing who they could, but their movements slowed. Exhaustion bled into every strike. The fortress defenders were breaking.The Shadowlord’s laughter rose above the clash of steel. “So the blood of kings still flows in your veins, boy. Did you think you could hide it forever?”Elias raised his blade, forcing his voice steady. “I never wanted thrones. I neve
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