2025-02-28 20:22:42
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The Call From Drakhtarion
Far beneath the Forbidden Lake, the Hall of Confluence thrummed with anxious power. Turquoise light rippled across the crystal dome overhead, mirroring the restless waves above, while runes carved into the black‑glass floor pulsed erratically—like a heartbeat straining against invisible chains.Aelion Draeven stood upon the raised dais, his palms braced on the obsidian podium that cradled the Sealheart’s Echo‑Stone. Around him, the eight Elders formed a tense ring, their robes drifting in the weightless water‑air that filled the city.“The ward we patched two nights ago,” Aelion said, voice low but urgent, “is draining twice as fast. Something on the surface is pulling at it—stormlight braided with dragonfire.”Serenya closed her silver‑streaked eyes, tracing unseen currents. “It’s Calen—and the unborn child. Their bloodlines resonate with the rift. Every step they take widens the fracture.”A gravelly rumble rose from Veras Stonefall. “Then drag the boy home in chains before Tharstan
Through Thornwall
Dawn had not yet broken when the three fugitives slipped through the edge of the forest, cloaked in shadows and mist.The night air was cold and damp, curling around them like a second skin. Branches clawed at their cloaks as they moved swiftly beneath the cover of the trees, guided only by memory, instinct, and the map etched into Calen’s mind. Moonlight filtered through the high canopy in fractured beams, illuminating their path just enough to keep from stumbling.They spoke little.Every sound felt too loud—the crunch of leaves, the snap of a twig, the shift of Liora’s bow as it rubbed against her back.“This way,” Calen murmured, pointing toward a slope descending into a narrow valley. “The ruins are just beyond the ridge. There’s a pass hidden behind the thorn groves.”Carmen glanced up at the looming hillside, her breath visible in the chill. “Thornwall lives up to its name, I hope you know that.”“I know,” Calen said, pushing forward. “It was built centuries ago to keep out Vyn
Seraphina's Message
The moon hung low, veiled by tattered clouds, as Seraphina emerged from the shadowed crevices beneath Ardenfell’s eastern wall. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. Her robes were torn, soaked with sweat and grime, and her palms were raw—cut open by the jagged stone walls of the ancient escape route.She had clawed her way through tunnels untouched by time, known only to the oldest bloodlines of Vynoria—tunnels sealed from memory, buried beneath the capital’s newer bones.Behind her, Ardenfell glimmered in silver and shadow—cold, grand, utterly oblivious to her escape.“They’ll search every gate by dawn,” she muttered, clutching the pendant at her throat. “But they won’t find me. Not yet.”Each step through the wild underbrush felt heavier, as if the weight of the prophecy she carried pressed against her shoulders. She stumbled through reeds and brambles, cutting her ankles on thorns, until at last she reached a hollow beneath a jagged ridge, where the roots of ancient willows coi
Carmen’s Plan
The forest lay hushed beneath a velvet sky, broken only by the gentle crackle of fire and the distant chirp of crickets beyond the trees. Overhead, stars glimmered like cold, watchful eyes—silent witnesses to secrets whispered beneath their gaze.Calen sat near the flames, a strip of charred venison in hand, chewing without thought. His eyes were distant, lost in a storm of worry, and the meat might as well have been stone for all he tasted. The warmth of the fire didn’t seem to reach him.Carmen and Liora exchanged a glance.“You’re not even tasting that,” Liora murmured, nudging his boot with hers.Calen blinked, as if waking from a dream, then exhaled slowly. “Sorry. I just… I can’t stop thinking about her.”“Elara,” Carmen guessed. “And the child.”He nodded, shoulders tense. “I left them behind thinking they’d be safe. But I should’ve known Theron would twist everything. And Elara…” He hesitated, jaw tight. “She tricked me.”Liora arched a brow. “Tricked you how?”Calen lifted hi
Behind Closed Doors
The corridors of the Drake estate were quiet—too quiet.Even the servants knew better than to linger when Evan Drake returned from the palace with that look in his eyes. The doors to the private quarters slammed shut behind him, echoing through the stone halls like a judgment.Lila stood near the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, golden hair spilling down in soft waves, untouched by any braid or crown. She didn’t turn when he entered.She didn’t have to.“So it’s true,” she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been ordered to kill him.”Evan paused in mid-step. His gloves dropped to the floor.“Don’t act surprised,” he replied. “It was always going to come to this.”Lila finally turned, her eyes shimmering—but not from tears. From fury.“You’ve always hated him. Not because he was a traitor. But because he was better. Better in the field. Better in honor. Better—” she took a shaky breath “—than you ever were.”Evan’s jaw clenched.“Careful.”“Why? Will you ki
The King's Command — Evan Drake
The chamber beyond the throne room was colder than usual—not from weather, but from intent.King Theron Ashford stood by the arched window of blackstone, gazing down at the training yards below, where soldiers sparred in formation. His cloak of crimson and obsidian hung motionless behind him, as though even the wind hesitated to disturb him this morning.Behind him, heavy doors creaked open.Footsteps, measured and confident, echoed into the hall. Then a voice—smooth, crisp.“Your Majesty.”Theron didn’t turn. “Evan Drake.”Evan approached with a bow, pride tucked neatly behind the practiced poise of a loyal subject. But his eyes gleamed—he had heard.He had always watched Calen Storm from the shadows—envied him, resented him. And now, at last, the crown had declared Calen an enemy of the realm. A traitor.It was time.Theron finally turned, expression carved from stone.“You’ve heard the decree.”“I have,” Evan said, his voice composed but edged with satisfaction. “Calen Storm has be
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