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The God of War Calen Storm The Servant
Calen walked back to the military barracks, his steps steady despite the murmurs and pointed stares of the soldiers gathered along the way. His clothes were singed from the lightning strike, the edges blackened, and faint scorch marks marred his skin. Yet, he moved as if untouched by the ordeal—a living anomaly that left everyone speechless."How is he even walking?" a young soldier whispered, his voice hushed but audible enough to carry through the tense air."Shouldn't he be dead?" another muttered, incredulous.Calen ignored the whispers, his gaze fixed forward. He had no time to entertain their astonishment or their questions. Instead, he headed straight to the military bathing quarters, eager to wash off the grime, sweat, and remnants of his burned clothing.The warm water cascading over his body was soothing, melting away the tension that clung to his muscles. As he stood under the shower, something extraordinary began to happen. The cuts, bruises, and deep aches from his duel w
The God of War Calen Storm Enough!
Calen finished dressing and walked out of the military bathhouse, his steps steady and purposeful as his thoughts remained elsewhere—on the storm, his newfound power, and what it meant for his future.Meanwhile, the servant woman from earlier quickly exited the military bathhouse as well, clutching Calen’s oversized coat around her shoulders. She headed toward the correct servants’ bathhouse, her face still flushed with embarrassment. As she approached, she encountered a young soldier who appeared to be on cleaning duty near the servants’ quarters."Excuse me," she said, stopping him. "That man back there in the bathhouse... who is he?"The soldier raised an eyebrow, surprised by her ignorance. "You mean you don’t know? That’s Calen Storm. The son of Aldric Storm."Her eyes widened. "Calen Storm? I’ve heard that name before.""Everyone has," the soldier replied with a mix of admiration and gossiping glee. "He’s been the talk of the barracks—and the entire court—lately. Did you know he
The God of War Calen Storm Divorce?
Astra froze, her heart pounding as she stood in the shadow of Lila’s fury. She had barely been in the Frost household for a day, and now she found herself at the center of a storm she didn’t understand."N-Nona, I swear, I only met him earlier today!" Astra stammered, clutching her hands tightly in front of her.Lila stepped closer, her eyes sharp and accusing. "Don’t lie to me, Astra. A servant doesn’t just meet Calen Storm and end up with his coat. What were you doing with him? What’s your connection?"Astra shook her head vehemently, her voice trembling. "I’m telling the truth, My Lady! I went to the wrong bathhouse by mistake, and he was there. I was... I didn’t have proper clothes, and he lent me his coat. That’s all!"Lila’s expression hardened, disbelief etched on her face. "You expect me to believe that? A mistake in the bathhouse, and he just gave you his coat? Do you think I’m a fool?"Tears pricked Astra’s eyes. She dropped to her knees, bowing her head low in desperation.
The God of War Calen Storm Humiliate Her
The scorching midday sun bore down on the courtyard as the servants gathered, whispering amongst themselves. The air buzzed with gossip and speculation, their eyes darting toward Astra, whose hands were bound, dressed in a plain white prison uniform. Her face was pale, her head bowed, as the murmurs around her grew louder."She’s only been here a few days," one servant whispered. "Do you really think she’d risk breaking the rules so soon?""Maybe she’s not as innocent as she looks," another scoffed. "Who knows what she’s been up to with the military men?""And the rumors say it’s someone important," someone else chimed in. "But he’s not here. Figures. Probably ashamed of being caught."Astra stood silently in the center of the gathering, trembling but saying nothing. Her wrists burned where the rough rope chafed against her skin. The executioner, a burly man holding a long whip, awaited the signal to begin.Under a shaded pavilion, Lila Frost sat elegantly, a parasol shielding her fro
The God of War Calen Storm Cat Got Your Tongue?
Astra stood motionless as Calen walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance. Her heart thudded in her chest, a mix of gratitude, admiration, and something she dared not name. Despite his cold demeanor, the memory of him standing up for her filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.She quickly averted her gaze, chastising herself silently. No, Astra. You can't think like this. He's far above your station—untouchable. But no matter how much she told herself to ignore it, the image of Calen’s unwavering expression lingered in her mind.Meanwhile, at the military camp, Calen returned to the camp, his coat draped over his arm. His steps were steady, and his face betrayed no emotion, but his presence carried an undeniable authority. Whispers had already spread among the soldiers about the spectacle in the Frost courtyard.“Did you hear what happened?”“Calen Storm stood up to Lady Lila herself!”“They say he defied her in front of the entire household!”Calen ignor
The God of War Calen Storm Dark Magic
Calen’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his body began to emit faint sparks of electricity that crackled and danced across his skin. The static energy intensified, and within moments, arcs of lightning coursed around him, illuminating his soaked figure with an almost divine brilliance.The air grew heavy, charged with an ominous electricity, and the sky outside the hall darkened unnaturally fast. A deep rumble of thunder echoed, causing the walls to tremble slightly. Soldiers who had been mocking him moments ago froze in place, their faces turning pale as they exchanged nervous glances.“What’s happening?” someone whispered.“It’s him,” another said, trembling. “It’s Storm. He’s—he’s doing this.”Evan’s smirk faltered, his expression shifting from arrogance to unease. He took a step back, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. The other soldiers who had joined in his mockery began retreating, their confidence crumbling under the sheer for
The God of War Calen Storm Perfect Match
The morning sun hung high in the sky as Calen stepped into the military training grounds, his usual quiet determination etched on his face. Yet, something felt different. The air was heavy with whispers, and the soldiers who once sparred or trained alongside him now kept their distance, throwing furtive glances his way."Is it true?" one soldier murmured to another."They say he dabbled in dark magic," came the hushed reply."But he defeated Evan. How could someone like that need dark magic?""That’s precisely why. No one gets that strong overnight unless there's something unnatural about it."Calen ignored the stares and whispers, his expression calm but his jaw clenched. He knew rumors were spreading, but he had no time for petty gossip. The military exams were only two days away, and he needed to focus. If he failed here, everything he had worked for would be in vain.He picked up his practice sword and began his drills, his movements sharp and precise. Sweat dripped from his brow
The God of War Calen Storm The High Priest
The sun was setting as Calen returned to his quarters, his body aching from the day's grueling military training. However, his steps slowed as he noticed a group of men standing in front of his door. They wore simple yet distinctive robes, bearing the insignia of the temple—an intricate symbol of a sun rising over an open book.One of them, a tall man with a stern face, stepped forward. “Calen Storm, you are summoned by High Priest Eldric Azrael. He awaits you in the Tower of Light.”Calen’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What does he want with me? Has something happened?”The men exchanged glances but remained silent. “We are only here to escort you. Please follow us.”Realizing that pressing them for answers was futile, Calen nodded. He climbed into the ornate carriage waiting nearby, its polished black frame adorned with silver detailing. The ride was silent, save for the clatter of hooves against the cobblestone roads as they headed toward the easternmost part of the palace complex
Latest Chapter
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
Victory
Three days later, Aerondale rang with thunderous bells of victory.From the white cliffs of the Eastern Watchtowers to the golden domes of Ardenfell, the capital city, the people poured into the streets, their cheers rising like ocean spray against stone. Petals of blue and silver—colors of both Aerondale and the vanquished Vynoria—fell from balconies, fluttering down like gentle snow upon the heroes of the hour.At the heart of the city, the palace gates opened wide.Calen Storm rode through them not in chains, nor as a prisoner of insubordination, but as a hero—his cloak torn, his face shadowed by exhaustion, but his presence as commanding as the wind itself. Children ran alongside his horse. Women wept in gratitude. Even hardened soldiers saluted him with awe.“He tamed the Sacred River,” they whispered.“He faced divine wrath and lived.”“He is the Windborn.”Trumpets blared, and at the top of the grand marble staircase, King Ryan Ashford stood tall in his navy and gold regalia, f
Mercy
A heavy silence fell over the temple as Calen’s words echoed like thunder across the sanctum:“Surrender now, and I will spare your queen.”The waters of the Sacred River, once writhing and defiant like a living creature in revolt, stilled around Elara’s broken figure. Its surface, once seething with ancient judgment, now shimmered with an eerie calm, as if the river itself had turned its face away.The priestesses of the river—robed in pale blue and silver—stood in clusters along the marble terraces, their faces streaked with tears. The echo of their chants had died in their throats. One of them, the eldest of the Waterkeepers, dropped to her knees, her voice brittle with disbelief.“How could the River… abandon us?”A younger acolyte let out a broken sob.“He wasn’t even touched by its judgment… the River… it did not stop him…”Among the scorched and battered commanders of Vynoria, murmurs turned into quiet anguish. General Maelin, her armor cracked and soaked with steam, shook her
Surrender
The war raged through the marble avenues and sacred waters of Rivermoore, chaos exploding in every direction. Shouts, flame, steam, and stone collided as Aerondale’s might clashed with Vynoria’s ancient defenses.Great General Ironheart and Evan Drake stood atop a crumbled terrace overlooking the battle, their armor scorched, their men dwindling.“This is turning,” Ironheart growled. “Faster than expected.”“We need to push harder,” Evan said through clenched teeth. “Vynoria looks powerful because we’ve only attacked its edges. We strike straight into the heart, into Rivermoore—we finish this now.”Ironheart hesitated. “We’d lose too many.”“We’re too deep to retreat,” Evan snapped. “The longer we wait, the stronger they get.”A nod. Then a horn sounded—the signal.The elite of Aerondale surged inward, pushing through what they thought was the final wall. Firelords ignited the road ahead, Windcallers soared like hawks loosed from chains, and iron-plated vanguards roared into the holy
