2025-04-29 21:30:35
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Deep Within the Void
The first of the Dragon-Sworn.“She lives inside me still,” Vhorran said, tapping his chest where a shimmer of gold flickered under his skin. “And sometimes… she dreams of finishing the war.”Clara didn’t speak for a moment.Then: “Can she still hear the child?”Vhorran paused. His gaze sharpened.“Yes. And she’s afraid.”Lysandros stood, suddenly tense. “Why?”Vhorran’s voice dropped to a whisper.“Because something older than her... older than all of us... is whispering through him.”Meanwhile, beneath the SanctuaryAetherion stood before a cracked mirror.But his reflection was smiling before he was.“You’re not me,” he whispered.“No,” the reflection said, eyes like liquid night. “I’m what’s been left behind.”It reached toward the glass.And the mirror shattered.The shards of the broken mirror glistened on the floor like ice, each one humming with a low, hungry sound. Aetherion didn’t move. He simply stared at the space where his reflection had stood — where it had spoken back.
The Name That Shouldn’t Be Spoken
The next morning, the war-torn plateau had shifted from red to gold as dawn rose over the ravaged hills. Smoke curled upward like mourning veils, yet amidst the stillness, two figures stood alive.Clara and Brown sat beneath a shattered obelisk once dedicated to the celestial order. Now cracked, it seemed more honest in its brokenness.Clara broke the silence first.“What does Aetherion mean?”Brown didn’t answer right away.He picked up a shard of the broken pendant—the one Clara had worn her whole life—and clenched it.“It’s not just a name. It’s a warning.”She turned to him, gently.“Tell me everything.”So he did.Years Ago — The Night Before the Pact FellBrown was not always a soldier. Once, he was a Keeper of the Flame—a sacred title, bestowed upon those who guarded the dying embers of the Creator’s breath.But in secret, he was also a traitor.He had fallen in love with a mortal girl born of twin bloodlines: light and shadow.Clara.Their union was forbidden, for her blood wa
Bloodline Ignition
The sky cracked.Not with lightning——but with destiny.Brown was a blur of motion, blade in hand, cutting down two of the Shadow Unit with a single sweep. Their bodies evaporated into dust, remnants of necromantic engineering gone wrong. But five remained—faster, deadlier, and synchronized like a hive mind.Reyes stood back, arms crossed, watching with cold amusement.“You’re bleeding, Brown,” he said mockingly, as a red streak carved down the side of Brown’s ribcage.Brown didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Every muscle in his body burned, his bones reverberating with the strain of godhood clashing with mortal limits. He hadn’t yet completed the re-ascension. His body was fighting to catch up with the power screaming within him.Then——a hum cut through the battlefield.Reyes’s smile faltered. The assassins paused.The rift behind them glowed, surging with radiant silver and gold. And then—Clara emerged.But she was not alone.A translucent aura surrounded her, forming the outline of an an
Echoes Across Realms
Clara’s breath caught in her throat.She sat up in bed, one hand instinctively on her rounded belly, the other clutching the pendant Brown had given her before he left. It pulsed—just once—as if answering her whispered call.It had never done that before.“Brown…” she repeated, voice barely audible above the soft rustle of wind outside her window.The room around her felt suddenly too still. The silence wasn’t empty—it was watchful. Like the universe was holding its breath.A knock shattered it.Three slow, deliberate raps on the front door.Clara rose, heart pounding. She wasn't expecting visitors, not at this hour. Especially not when the curfews were tight and the capital was still recovering from the diplomatic collapse at the Southern Bay. Something had shifted since yesterday. People were tense. The air was full of rumors—about new alliances, secret betrayals, and a growing shadow in the East.But nothing explained this.She opened the door to find a cloaked figure, drenched in
A Promise
Brown stood at the edge of the storming abyss, his long cloak billowing in the void between dimensions. Around him swirled echoes of forgotten battles and ancient roars of creatures long extinct. The realm he now wandered was neither heaven nor hell, but a crucible between realms—where broken souls were forged into warriors of legend.He clenched his fists. The scars across his knuckles shimmered faintly, reacting to the ancient energy pulsing from the leyline stone embedded in the fractured altar before him. This was the fourth realm he had conquered, each more brutal than the last. Yet he still had three more to endure before the ritual would be complete—before he could return as the one true King of War.His eyes, burning a pale gold, blinked slowly as Clara's face swam through his memory. Her tears. Her trembling lips when she said, “Promise me you’ll come back.”But he had broken that promise.They had torn him away—Clara’s family—just days after their marriage, forcing him into
A Monster?
Clara sank to the floor beside Brown, her hands trembling as they cupped his face. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, mixing with the drops of rain still clinging to his silver-streaked hair. He looked up at her—eyes dark with regret, but glowing with something stronger: hope.“I kept hearing your voice in my head,” Clara whispered. “Telling me to hold on. Telling me you’d come back.”Brown smiled, a slow, broken thing. “I did too. Yours. Every day. It was the only thing that kept me from turning into one of them.”“One of what?” Clara asked, brushing her thumb across the scar on his cheek.He pulled away just enough to stand, helping her up gently. “A monster. A ruler without mercy. The kind of king who forgets what love feels like.” His voice dropped lower, hoarser. “But I didn’t forget. Because I remembered you.”Their fingers intertwined, fitting perfectly as if time had never torn them apart.Elsewhere — The Edge of the RiftKael, one of Brown’s closest warriors, stood at the
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