2025-03-02 21:00:13
Previous Chapter
Related Chapters
The God of War Calen Storm The Stranger
Night had fallen by the time Calen and Garrick returned to their inn. The streets of Rivermoore, which had been alive with bustling trade during the day, were now quieter, illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns swaying gently in the evening breeze. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine drifted from the tavern below as weary merchants and travelers gathered to unwind after a long day.Inside their modest room, Garrick stretched and let out a satisfied sigh, tossing a small pouch of silver onto the wooden table. “Today was a damn good day,” he said with a grin. “At this rate, we won’t need to stay in Rivermoore much longer. Where should we set up shop next?”Calen leaned against the window frame, gazing out at the distant silhouette of the palace, its towering spires reflecting the moonlight. He considered his next move carefully before answering. “Honestly, I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I’ll return to Aerondale first.”Garrick nodded approvingly. “A wise choice. There’s no pla
The God of War Calen Storm Who is She?
They stood before a grand yet timeworn establishment, its structure a contradiction of faded grandeur and lingering decadence. The towering building loomed over the street, its upper levels adorned with ornate carvings, now chipped and weathered with age. Golden lanterns flickered outside, casting elongated shadows that danced across the damp cobblestones. Music pulsed from within, muffled yet rhythmic, intertwined with the occasional burst of raucous laughter. Despite the revelry inside, the street remained eerily quiet, as though the very walls of Rivermoore held their breath.Calen lingered in the shadows, his gaze locked onto the hooded figure ahead. They didn’t even glance at the main entrance, where a pair of doormen in fine yet well-worn attire kept watch. Instead, they cast a swift, almost habitual glance over their shoulder before slipping into the narrow alleyway beside the building.Calen’s instincts flared. He adjusted his hood and followed, keeping his steps light, his bo
The God of War Calen Storm Dangerous Woman
Calen remained pressed against the damp stone wall, his breath slow and measured. The faint glow from the club’s interior had disappeared completely as the door was shut, leaving him in near-total darkness. He strained his ears, hoping to catch even a whisper of conversation from within, but the thick wooden door muffled all sound.There was no way to see what the woman was doing inside. No way to hear her words, her intentions.He clenched his jaw. He needed more information. He would wait.Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity. The night air carried the distant sounds of the city—the occasional clatter of a horse-drawn cart, the muffled laughter of drunkards still lingering in the streets—but here, in the alley, all was still.Then, finally, the door creaked open once more.Calen pressed himself deeper into the shadows, his pulse steady but his senses sharpened. The woman stepped out, pulling her hood back up over her head. The large man she had spoken with earlier mutte
The God of War Calen Storm Wandering
Calen walked back to the inn with steady steps, though his mind was filled with countless possibilities. The night air felt colder—or maybe it was just the effect of the adrenaline slowly fading after his encounter with that woman. He had been lucky not to get killed tonight—but luck alone wouldn’t be enough to complete his mission.He couldn’t be reckless.Once he arrived at the inn, he went up to his room, locked the door, and dropped onto the bed. His eyes stared at the wooden ceiling above him, his thoughts racing.That woman lived in the palace. That was the only certainty he had gained tonight.But how could he sneak into the palace without drawing attention?Calen closed his eyes, recalling the map of the city he had studied before coming to Rivermoore. The palace was located deep within the city, surrounded by high walls and heavily guarded. The main gate was always watched, and even the royal servants had to show their permits to enter and exit.Sneaking in just like that? Im
The God of War Calen Storm Calen’s Night Plan
The night deepened, draping Rivermoore in a veil of silver moonlight. The towering spires of the palace cast long, jagged shadows over the immaculate streets, their reflections shimmering faintly on the smooth cobblestone paths. A cool breeze drifted through the city, rustling the flower-laden balconies and carrying the distant murmur of a fountain, the only sound breaking the eerie stillness of the night.Calen moved with deliberate care, his steps light and measured as he weaved through the quieter streets, drawing ever closer to the palace. His dark cloak helped him blend into the shadows, his posture that of a man aimlessly strolling, as though merely admiring the city's beauty. His keen eyes, however, missed nothing.Rivermoore was unlike any city he had known. Its roads were pristine, its buildings adorned with elegant carvings and lined with ivy. Lanterns flickered in their sconces, casting a warm glow over the pale stone facades, but there were no wandering drunks or loitering
The God of War Calen Storm Poor Bastard
One of the courtesans, a woman with deep auburn hair and mischievous eyes, leaned in, lowering her voice as if to share a delicious secret. "There’s quite the interesting rumor going around," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.Garrick raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might that be?"The woman’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "They say the Queen herself has taken an interest in something happening here in Rivermoore. Something… illegal."Calen, who had been silently nursing his drink, barely flicked an eyelid, but his attention sharpened. He resisted the urge to lean forward, knowing it was better to let the information flow naturally.Garrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Illegal business in Rivermoore? Unlikely. This city runs tighter than a ship in a storm."The woman hummed, swirling the wine in her goblet. "Perhaps. But even the purest river has shadows beneath its surface, don’t you think?" She traced a delicate finger along the rim of her cup. "The
The God of War Calen Storm No Turning Back
The room was silent, save for the distant hum of the inn’s nightly murmurs beyond the thick wooden walls. The flickering candlelight from the street cast faint shadows through the window, stretching long and distorted against the floor.Calen lay on the bed, eyes closed, his body heavy with exhaustion. The day had drained him, but his mind still churned with thoughts—the queen’s secret investigation, the palace’s strict routines, the courtesans’ whispers. But soon, fatigue overtook him, and he drifted into sleep.Then—something changed.A presence. Subtle, almost imperceptible. But not to him.The door had been locked. Yet now, the latch shifted with unnatural silence, the handle turning ever so slightly. It was precise. Measured. The work of someone who had done this a thousand times before.Calen’s instincts flared, his body reacting before his mind fully awoke. He didn't move—not yet. Instead, he kept his breathing steady, controlled, feigning sleep even as his muscles coiled, read
The God of War Calen Storm Hey, Beautiful!
The streets near the palace were cloaked in deepening darkness, the air thick with the distant scent of damp stone and burning oil. The flickering lanterns along the roads cast long, wavering shadows, stretching like ghostly fingers across the uneven cobblestones. Their weak glow failed to reach the narrow alleyways, where silence reigned and the city's filth clung to the walls like forgotten whispers.Calen moved with measured grace, his disguise flowing around him like the delicate robe of a noblewoman slipping through the city on some clandestine errand. He kept his steps unhurried, his posture demure, careful to let his movements betray uncertainty—the hesitation of someone out of place, someone who had wandered too far from safety.It was a calculated performance. A lure.But he was not alone."Hey, beautiful! Where are you going?"The voice came from the shadows to his left, slurred yet confident, thick with the lazy arrogance of a man who knew his authority granted him a certai
Latest Chapter
What Truth?
The clang of steel echoed through the royal training grounds, sharp and rhythmic like the beat of a war drum. Dust curled into the air with every powerful strike, boots thudding against packed earth. Calen Storm moved like a tempest—fluid, brutal, precise. His blade sliced through the air with impossible speed, knocking back opponents two at a time.Around him, soldiers watched in awed silence. Even the most seasoned warriors of Aerondale whispered behind gloved hands.“Did you see that strike?”“Like the storm itself fights through him.”“He’s not a man. He’s a force.”Calen didn’t care for their words. He didn’t fight for their admiration. His focus was cold, singular. With every swing of his sword, he tried to drive away the gnawing weight in his chest—the silence between him and Elara, the dreams that haunted him, and the echo of a father’s voice in the wind.Finally, at the command of the drill captain, the training ceased. Calen lowered his sword, his tunic drenched with sweat,
Under The Light of The Full Moon
The morning sun rose golden over the spires of Aerondale, bathing the marble courtyards in warm light. The air was crisp, the scent of early spring blossoms drifting through the palace grounds as banners of both Vynoria and Aerondale were unfurled side by side across the terraces. Trumpets sounded, drawing the attention of nobles, soldiers, and attendants alike.From the grand balcony overlooking the central court, King Theron Ashford stood tall, clad in ceremonial black and silver, a crimson sash draped across his chest. His voice rang out with regal clarity.“Two days from now, under the light of the full moon, I shall take Elara Wynn, daughter of Vynoria, as my wife and queen. This union marks the joining of our great nations and the beginning of an era of peace, prosperity, and unshakable power.”Applause erupted from the crowd—cheers, flowers thrown into the air, the roar of celebration echoing through Aerondale’s heart. Courtiers clinked goblets in approval. Trumpets blared agai
Reveal It
The night deepened in the palace of Aerondale, a heavy silence settling over its stone bones like a velvet shroud. The storm that had once raged beyond its gilded towers had softened now to a gentle rhythm, a steady patter against high glass windows and ancient roofs, like fingers drumming on a coffin lid.Within one of the military chamber, Calen Storm lay in restless stillness, one arm flung across his brow, his shirt damp with sweat despite the chill. The fire in the hearth had dulled to a bed of glowing embers, casting faint, pulsing shadows across the floor like the slow beat of a dying heart. Thoughts swirled behind his closed eyes—memories, burdens, questions too sharp to silence. His body begged for rest, but his soul was too heavy, armored with truths unspoken and futures uncertain.And yet, sleep claimed him.For a while.A whisper stirred in the dark—soft, breathless, and impossibly near.“Calen…”His eyes flew open, breath caught in his throat. He sat upright in one motion
Whispers of Fate
The storm outside continued its relentless assault on the palace, as if the heavens themselves mourned the weight of Elara’s heart. She stood by the window, her back stiff and unyielding, the weight of her crown like a burden too heavy to bear. Seraphina remained beside her, her eyes soft with concern, but the silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire."My Queen," Seraphina began gently, her voice barely above a whisper, "You do not have to go through with this. You can leave, disappear before the wedding, before anyone finds out."Elara turned her gaze slowly toward her, her face a mask of weary resolve. "What are you saying, Seraphina? Run? Abandon everything?" Her voice was sharp, but there was a flicker of desperation behind her words. "You know that’s impossible.""You could go to Vynoria," Seraphina urged, her eyes intense. "No one would ever expect it. You could live freely, without the threat of a marriage that binds you to him—" Sh
I Have Failed
The rain beat against the tall windows of the Aerondale palace, a relentless drumming that echoed through the dim corridors like a war song turned sorrowful. The storm had rolled in not long after the last banner of celebration had been taken down—fitting, perhaps, for a Queen who could not share in the joy her people believed she should feel.Queen Elara stood by the window in silence, the heavy velvet curtains pushed aside. Outside, Aerondale’s golden towers blurred under the downpour, the once-vibrant city now veiled in a gray shroud. Her reflection in the glass was pale, weary, crowned only by the dim flicker of torchlight behind her. Her breath fogged the glass slightly, the only sign she was truly there and not some ghost caught in gilded captivity.In the center of the candlelit chamber, Seraphina watched her. The Prime Minister had been silent for several minutes now, sensing the storm inside her Queen was far greater than the one outside. A tray of untouched tea cooled on a l
Free Me!
Lila clutched at Calen’s tunic as he pulled her toward the door, her feet dragging against the stone. Her nails dug into the coarse fabric like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood. “Please, Calen,” she sobbed, voice cracked with desperation. “I don’t want anything but for you to save me. Just save me from this life—I can’t breathe in it anymore.”Calen’s face was stone. “You chose that life, Lila. You made your bed. I’m not the man you come to for rescue anymore.” His grip on her arm was firm but not cruel, yet his eyes held no warmth—only cold finality.“But I was wrong!” she cried, struggling to break free only to fall forward again. “They don’t want me anymore. Not Evan. Not even the Frost family—they won’t answer my letters, they’ve cut me off like I’m a disgrace. Please, I have nothing left! Let me be your wife again… You’re a hero now. You could ask the King—he would grant it. You could free me!”“You’re not listening,” Calen snapped, a rare flash of anger cracking his stoici
Obsession
Calen’s brow furrowed as he stepped back into the low lamplight. “What truth?”Lila’s breath caught, but she stood her ground. “The truth about how you feel. I need to know.”Calen’s jaw tensed. “We don’t need to talk about feelings. You and I—we're nothing now.”“I missed you,” Lila said, her voice barely more than a whisper, but it rang loud in the silence between them. “So much it made me sick.”Calen stood still in the dim light of the chamber, jaw clenched, arms at his sides as though bracing himself against her words.“I prayed for you every night,” Lila continued, stepping further into the room. “When news reached us that you'd survived, that you were leading the final charge—my heart nearly stopped. And then at the palace... seeing you again, alive, triumphant—” Her voice cracked. “It should’ve been the happiest moment of my life. But you barely looked at me.”Calen averted his gaze. “You shouldn’t be here.”“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “Not when every time I closed my e
The Truth
The moon had climbed high over Ardenfell, casting its silver light over the noble quarters of House Drake. Inside the sprawling manor, most candles had been snuffed out, and silence pressed like velvet over the corridors. But Lila Drake’s heart was anything but still.She had tossed and turned for hours, haunted by the image of Calen Storm standing in the grand ballroom—battle-scarred, cloaked in glory, impossibly calm amidst the sea of cheering nobles. But his eyes… they had not searched the room for her. Not for Lila.They had been locked—again and again—on her.Elara Wynn.Every glance he cast across the candlelit hall was subtle, deliberate. And Lila saw it. She always saw him. She always had. That had once been her curse—and her greatest joy.Now, curled in a thick midnight-blue cloak and soft-soled slippers, Lila moved through the manor like a whisper. She avoided the creaky boards she’d memorized since childhood, her breath shallow, her fingers trembling as she clutched her ski
Wept
The victory celebration in Aerondale lasted for seven nights and seven days.On the very first night, all of Ardenfell thundered with music and cheers. A towering bonfire was lit in Meridien Square, while blue-silver fireworks exploded across the night sky, forming the sigil of Aerondale: an eagle clutching a spear in its talons.The Hall of Echoes, the grand royal ballroom—larger than three cavalry fields—had been transformed into a starlit garden. Hundreds of lanterns floated mid-air, slowly drifting upward and glowing like lost stars descending to earth. Long banquet tables overflowed with roasted meats, spring fruits, and tiny cakes garnished with golden mint leaves.Musicians played harps, flutes, and drums, once with melodies of war, now turned to rhythms of triumph. Servants moved like shadows, refilling goblets with wine and mead from silver carafes.Calen Storm sat at the second seat of honor, not far from the King himself. His goblet was never empty, but he drank only in sma
