50: Echoes After Midnight
The storm outside had long since faded, but the fortress still felt like it was holding its breath. Smoke curled from the torches lining the grand hall, their flames dull and uneven. The scent of burnt silver hung in the air — a reminder of the ritual that had nearly torn the world apart. Darius lay unconscious in his chamber, his body weak but alive. Aria sat at his side, exhaustion painted across her face. Damon stood near the window, watching the moonlight crawl across the courtyard stones. They’d won. Or so they thought. ⸻ Down in the lower barracks, the guards changed shifts in tense silence. The youngest among them — a quiet soldier named Eli — lingered behind after the others left. He’d been part of the clean-up crew that morning, ordered to scrub the ritual chamber. But the
- Writer
