2025-04-28 17:05:00
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Between Two Storms
The silver mirror cracked into a lattice of ripples, the Elders’ spectral faces warping before dissolving altogether. A breath later the glow died, leaving only black water and the distant thrum of the resurrected river. The basin exhaled a faint hiss—si—as though the world itself had severed the link and released its breath.Calen wiped stray drops from his sleeve and turned, jaw set. “How long,” he asked Seraphina, “to muster every officer still loyal to Vynoria? We can’t repel Aerondale’s vanguard with five warm bodies and hope.”A wry cough echoed from behind a half‑collapsed column. Liora emerged, brushing soot from her leather jerkin. “Four, technically,” she quipped, lips quirking. “Someone has to guard your magnificent horses while the heroes do hero things. And, by astonishing coincidence, I’m head of the Magnificent Horse‑Watching Guild.”Carmen snorted despite herself. “Promotion suits you, Commander of Saddle and Mane.”Moonlight danced across Seraphina’s violet sleeves as
Waters of Awakening
Seraphina’s boots skimmed inches above the shattered tiles, violet robes snapping and twisting in the dry wind of her levitation spell. Queen Elara floated beside her, limp and death‑pale, crimson trailing from the torn hem of her nightgown and pattering onto the cracked flagstones below. Ahead, the old Vynorian palace rose like a bleached skeleton—marble ribs and ivy sinews—cradling the last, hidden reach of the Sacred River.“Hold on, my queen,” Seraphina whispered, refusing to glance back at the thunder of approaching hooves. “Calen is safe—he’s coming. All that matters now is you, and the child.”Elara’s eyelids fluttered. Each breath rattled, so faint it scarcely stirred the air. Within her womb, the unborn storm‑fire kicked once, then fell desperately still.Seraphina pressed forward, weaving through toppled columns and archways littered with centuries of dust. Near the palace’s heart she reached a dry channel—once a gleaming aqueduct, now a cracked ribbon of stone scarred by dr
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
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