2025-05-31 21:17:29
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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
Genious
Carmen’s breath came in shallow gasps as she urged her weary horse forward, the city of Eryndall shrinking behind her like a shadow she could never fully outrun. Her fingers tightened nervously around the reins, the echo of Harlan’s threats still burning in her mind. Where could she go now? The once-familiar roads offered no safety, only memories tangled with danger.After what felt like hours of wandering aimlessly, Carmen recalled the small village she had visited just the day before. A humble place nestled near the forest’s edge, where an old friend awaited—a rare flicker of hope in a world turned hostile. She set her course toward it, heart pounding with both relief and fear.But doubt gnawed at her relentlessly. “What if Harlan’s men are already on my trail?” she whispered to herself, eyes scanning the darkening horizon. The sun dipped low, casting the sky in bruised shades of orange and purple that bled into twilight. The village lay ahead, but Carmen hesitated.Pulling her horse
Unfinished Business
The streets of Eryndall bustled with late afternoon energy—vendors shouting, carriages clattering over cobblestones, the scent of roasted chestnuts and burnt oil lingering in the air. But Harlan strode through it all like a man cheated by fate, his lips twisted in a sneer and his mood as foul as the dust on his boots.He had returned with nothing.Calen Storm had vanished into the Forbidden Woods, and word was spreading fast. No body had been recovered, but everyone assumed the same. "Bastard took the coward’s way out," Harlan spat under his breath. “Suicide wrapped in heroism.” He should’ve been dragging Calen in chains to Aerondale—humiliated, broken. He should’ve been receiving applause, gold, maybe even a title. Instead… nothing. Nothing but silence and whispers.As he passed a market square, something—someone—caught his eye.A flash of silver-blonde hair. A familiar curve of the jaw. His step slowed.“Well, well…” he drawled, his lips curling into a slow, poisonous smile. “Look wh
Crying Over Him
The halls of the royal estate were eerily silent, disturbed only by the soft echo of hurried footsteps and whispers that clung to the walls like mist. News of Calen Storm’s death had spread quickly—too quickly. And though many wore masks of indifference or whispered of politics and war, one soul within the palace felt it like a blade to the heart.Lila hadn’t left her chambers since she heard.She had locked the door the moment the words reached her ears, shutting out the world with trembling hands. The windows were drawn, the drapes pulled tight against the sun, as if the light itself were too cruel to endure. She sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.“No… no, it can’t be,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice cracked and hoarse. “He can’t be gone.”Her mind tortured her with memories—Calen’s laughter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. The way he used to speak her name like a promise.
The Siblings
Calen stepped closer, the echo of his own footsteps swallowed by the silence of the chamber. His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of years unsaid.“My father…” he began, his throat tightening. “Did he ever come here?”Aelion paused.Something flickered behind his golden eyes. Not surprise. Recognition. Memory.“Aldric Storm?” he asked, his tone softer, laced with something more elusive—reverence, perhaps… or regret. “Yes. He came here. Not once, but several times.”Calen blinked. “Before you closed yourselves off from the world?”Aelion nodded slowly. “Yes. Before… and even after.”The breath caught in Calen’s chest. “Then… why? What was he doing in Drakhtarion? Did he… did he die here?”Aelion turned his gaze toward the towering arched window, as though the morning light held answers he could not—or would not—give so easily.“Was it the king of Aerondale?” Calen pressed, unable to stop the torrent now that it had begun. “Did King Ashford send him here? Was it for a mission? Or
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