2025-06-06 11:53:30
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Your King?
The moon hung low over Drakhtarion, casting long shadows through the crystalline arches of the High Spire. A hush had fallen over the city, broken only by the occasional cry of nightbirds circling far above the towers.Calen stood near the central window of the observatory, unmoving. The night wind tousled his dark hair as he stared into the distance—toward the invisible thread tugging at him again. It was back.That pull.It had come before—subtle, fleeting—during the evening meal with Serenya and Aelion three nights ago. He had dropped his goblet mid-sentence, breath catching in his throat, overcome by a strange warmth in his chest. At the time, he had said nothing, brushing it off as fatigue from the communion rites.But now?Now it burned.A pressure beneath his sternum. A whisper at the edge of hearing.Her.The girl. The pendant.He couldn’t explain it—only that he knew she was real, and she was in danger. And the pendant was not done with him.The heavy wooden door creaked open
It Won’t Let Me Go
The fire crackled louder now, like a living thing stirring awake—its flickers dancing against the stone walls of Liora’s cottage, casting strange, twitching shadows. Outside, the wind howled against the wooden shutters, as if protesting the silence that had settled between the two women.Carmen sat stiffly by the hearth, her shoulders tense, her eyes fixed on the pendant resting in the cradle of her palm. The light it gave off had dimmed since the storm—no longer a blinding beacon, but a steady, pulsing glow. Like a heartbeat. Like the slow, deliberate thump of something ancient… something watching.Liora stood nearby, arms folded tight across her chest. She hadn’t said a word in minutes. She was studying the pendant too, but her expression held no curiosity now—only unease.Then, quietly, she spoke.“There’s still a way out of this.”Carmen blinked, startled from her trance. “What?”Liora nodded toward the fire. “Get rid of it. Throw it in. Or bury it. Drop it in the well, smash it w
I Wont Survive This
Liora didn’t hesitate.She stepped forward, mud streaking her skirts, her breath coming in ragged gasps. In her trembling hands, she clutched a jagged branch snapped from a fallen tree, bark still raw and bleeding sap. She raised it like a sword, planting herself between Harlan and Carmen. Her eyes burned with defiance.“Stay back!” She shouted, her voice quivering with fury and fear. “You don’t get to touch her!”For a moment, everything went still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.Harlan halted, amused. His lips curled into a cruel smirk, as if watching a child pretend at war. “How quaint,” he said softly, his voice a mockery of politeness.Then came the strike.A flash of metal—a gauntleted hand swung with brutal precision. The crack echoed like thunder, reverberating through the clearing. Liora’s head snapped sideways. She staggered, then crumpled to the ground, her makeshift weapon tumbling from her grasp. She landed in the grass with a soft, broken moan, one arm limp ben
Found You!
A Village Between Eryndall and Aerondale, DuskCarmen clutched the pendant tightly, its metallic surface strangely warm against her palm, pulsing as though it carried a heartbeat of its own. The twilight wind tugged at the hem of her cloak, stirring fallen leaves that danced like restless spirits across the path. She slipped the pendant into the hidden pocket sewn inside her cloak, her fingers trembling.She should’ve thrown it away. After what happened in Eryndall, after the confusion and fear, after the way Calen Storm had looked straight through her like a stranger—she should’ve rid herself of this cursed thing. But something deep within her refused.Not fear. Not even hope.Purpose.She didn’t know where to find him—only that she must.Her boots crunched softly on the gravel path as she approached the small cottage nestled at the village’s edge. The structure was modest, its stone walls cloaked in ivy, its thatched roof sagging slightly under the weight of time. Yellow firelight s
The Truth
Shadowmere, Hours LaterThe world returned to Calen in fragments—like slivers of broken glass refracting memory instead of light.His eyelids fluttered open, heavy as stone. He found himself lying atop a velvet-cushioned divan, its frame carved from blackheart oak and etched with inlaid silver. The ceiling above shimmered with enchanted reflections, as if moonlight were filtering through an unseen lake far above. Schools of translucent silverfish—creatures native only to the deepest sanctums of Shadowmere—drifted lazily across the arched dome, their luminescence casting a ghostly glow over the chamber.The air was heavy with the scent of cedar smoke and crushed lilies. Magic clung to it—subtle, but ancient. Living.Calen shifted, feeling the dampness of his own sweat clinging to his tunic. His skin was cold, unnaturally so, despite the warmth that radiated gently from the runed stones beneath the divan. His breath came in shallow pulls, as if his lungs remembered drowning.A figure st
The Calling
The dining hall of Shadowmere was a dream conjured into stone and light.Walls of polished obsidian curved in elegant arches, veined with coral that glowed like veins of gold beneath translucent skin. Above them, a vast domed ceiling of enchanted glass revealed the lake’s heart: water shimmered with moonlight that never faded, though no moon truly reached this depth. The surface rippled softly overhead, casting waves of dancing silver light across every corner. Through the water drifted schools of pale silverfish, trailing long filaments like ribbons behind them. When they passed, their shadows danced across the dark stone floor, flickering like spirits in an ancient ritual.Calen stepped into the hall as if walking into another world.His dark sapphire robe flowed around his legs like a midnight tide, adorned with sigils stitched in silver thread—symbols of wind, wave, and the deep. The attendants had chosen it carefully, and though it fit him well, he still felt like a child in cere
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