2025-04-28 17:39:48
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Fire at the Gate
Moonlight was fading fast when Calen and Carmen burst from the service courtyard onto the main causeway of Ardenfell. The southern postern gate—once a quiet, overlooked supply exit—stood only forty strides ahead. Beyond it, dawn's first glow spilled across the horizon, streaking the sky in shades of bruised pink and violet.Almost free."Go!" Calen shouted, gripping Carmen’s wrist as they sprinted across uneven cobblestones slick with dew and ash.A wave of shouts erupted behind them—soldiers, dozens of them, pouring through the archway they'd just escaped. Their armor gleamed under flickering torchlight, elemental sigils etched in bright silver across breastplates. At their helm strode Evan Drake, his crimson cloak snapping in the wind, fire swirling eagerly around his blade like a predator on a leash."Storm!" Evan's voice cracked like shattering timber. "You think you can crawl out of my city alive?"With a sweep of his blade, he sent a wave of fire racing down the stone road, devo
Embers and Storm
Moonlight glinted off the marble tiles of the courtyard as Calen Storm squared his shoulders. Across the open space, Evan Drake paced like a predator, firelight flickering along the edge of his sword. Around them, close to thirty Aerondale soldiers fanned out, steel at the ready—helms stamped with elemental sigils: flame, earth, wind, and water. But their eyes kept sliding back to Calen’s skin, where pale arcs of electricity crawled beneath the flesh, bright as lightning beneath glass.Behind Calen, Carmen pressed herself against a pillar, heart hammering. “You know,” she whispered, “I’m starting to think following you was a questionable life choice. Should’ve stayed with Liora and the horses.”“No arguments here,” Calen muttered, eyes locked on Evan. Stormlight pulsed at his fingertips.Evan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Well, look who finally crawled out of hiding. You’ve been a stain on Aerondale long enough, Storm. Tonight, I wipe it clean.”Calen’s eyes narrowed. “Still pretending
Blood of Queens
The night tore open with a flash of violet light. Between the twisted trunks of the Wyrmwood trees, two figures appeared—displaced, breathless, and wounded by magic.Queen Elara collapsed to her knees the instant they landed. Her hands, once poised and elegant, now clawed at the damp forest floor. Her gown was soaked through—not by rain, but by something darker, more terrifying.Blood.A crimson pool blossomed beneath her, staining the moss in widening rings.“Elara!” Seraphina dropped beside her, her hands trembling as she reached for the Queen’s shoulder. “Talk to me. Look at me.”But Elara could barely breathe, let alone speak. Her face had gone ghostly pale, sweat beading along her brow despite the cool forest air.“She’s not moving,” Elara rasped, her voice broken. “Seraphina… the child—my child—she’s gone still.”The color drained from Seraphina’s face. Her gaze darted to Elara’s belly, to the blood soaking through silk and skin. No spell could have prepared her for this. The te
The Rescue
The second-floor corridor felt narrower than Calen remembered, torchlight flickering over burnished armor and sharpened halberds. Two royal sentries stood firm before the Queen’s Wing, their gazes heavy beneath crested helms.Calen crouched behind a carved pillar, Carmen beside him—nervously wringing her hands—and Seraphina a shadow at their backs, eyes glowing faintly violet.Step one: distract the guards.Step two: get Seraphina to Elara’s chamber.Step three: teleport the Queen.Step four—Footsteps echoed from the far corridor. Two servants approached, carrying wine trays and muttering to each other. Their laughter cut through the silence, drawing the guards’ attention just enough.Seraphina moved.She extended a single hand toward the floor. A gleaming sigil flashed beneath one guard's feet, and before he could cry out, roots of shadow coiled up and yanked him into the darkness—no blood, no noise, just gone.The second guard whirled, hand halfway to his sword—too late. A pulse of
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
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