Clash of the clan ☠️

A big gate separated the Cetus kingdom from the Blackwood territories. It had stood there for three centuries. Crossing that line meant war. Nobody ever tried. Not soldiers. Not traders. Not even birds, it felt like. For three hundred years the two kingdoms hated each other. Blood for blood. Name for name. Today, the line was broken. But not by an army. Not by drums or horns or screaming men. By one thing. A single, blood-soaked shield. Left resting against the old cornerstone. And on it, carved deep, was the crest of both families. Cetus. And Blackwood. The king’s daughter of Blackwood saw it first. Her name was Kiara. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know why. It was just a shield. Dirty. Broken. But something about it made her heart beat too fast. Across the crowded courtyard, someone else was staring at it too. The king’s son of Cetus. His name was Bryan. Their eyes met. And in that one second, everything stopped. The noise of the market. The shouting. The war. Three centuries of blood-feud just... vanished. It was like a pull. Deep in her chest. Deep in his. Visceral. Undeniable. Older than the mountains. Kiara didn’t understand it. Bryan didn’t either. But they both felt it. Then the warmth died. Because from the shadows, Bryan’s own brother stepped out. Blade drawn. Face hard. And beside him, walking calm like this was planned, was Kiara’s closest friend. The girl she trusted with everything. The trap snapped shut. Arrows rained down from the high ramparts. Fast. Loud. Deadly. Bryan grabbed Kiara’s arm and pulled her down. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would break his ribs. And that’s when he understood. This was not fate. This was not an accident. Their families had set this up. They wanted this. They wanted war. Bryan and Kiara were the bait. They managed to escape. Barely. Riding back to their homes in dead silence. The road felt too long. The sky felt too dark. At the Cetus keep, Bryan raised his cup and celebrated the “successful raid.” He laughed with the others. He nodded. Inside, he felt sick. At the Blackwood keep, Kiara sat in the corner and cursed the near miss. She smiled when they asked. She lied. Inside, she couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. Neither of them said a word about what really happened. Neither of them knew the other felt the same. But both of them had left a piece of their soul on that bloody grass. For three days, they played their parts. Bryan sat in war meetings. Nodding at plans to attack Blackwood. Kiara stood beside her father’s generals. Pretending to care about swords and shields. But their minds were not there. Their minds were back at the gate. At that one look. It was driving them crazy. The memory burned. Like fire under the skin. An ache that wouldn’t go away. Bryan couldn’t sleep. Kiara couldn’t eat. All they wanted was to see each other again. Just once. Even if it meant breaking every rule. Even if it meant death. Kiara had just turned eighteen. Everyone said it was a big day. Freedom. Power. A new title. But to her it felt like a cage. A golden, pretty cage. Because now the pressure was worse. “Join the war,” they said. “Lead our men,” they said. “Be like your mother,” they said. She was terrified to go back to the border. Terrified of arrows. Of death. Of war. But her friends wouldn’t stop pushing. The same friends who helped set the trap. They laughed and said, “Come on, it’ll be fine.” They had no idea they were pushing her straight back to him. The night of her birthday came fast. The grand hall was too loud. Too bright. The air was thick. Roasted meat. Sweet perfume. And under it all, the sharp smell of gunpowder. Warlords in black coats raised their goblets to her. “To the future of Blackwood!” “To war!” “To blood!” Kiara smiled. She bowed. She drank. And all the while, her hands were shaking. Then, during a loud toast, the high lords got distracted. That was her moment. Kiara slipped away. Through the shadows. Past the guards. She climbed the forbidden wall with shaking hands. Her dress tore. She didn’t care. She ran. Toward the border. Toward the dark. Toward him. The night was quiet. Too quiet. Only her footsteps and her breathing. When she reached the moonlit clearing, she stopped. Empty. Her heart dropped into her stomach. He wasn’t there. “Please,” she whispered. “Please be here.” She looked around. Nothing. Just trees and moonlight and fear. Panic hit her. What if they missed her at the feast? What if someone followed her? With shaking hands, she pulled out a small piece of parchment. She wrote fast. Messy. Desperate. I came. I had to see you. Meet me here tomorrow at midnight. -K She shoved the note into the rusted groove of the blood-soaked shield. The same one from before. She prayed to every god she knew that the wind wouldn’t take it. Then she ran back. Before anyone noticed she was gone. A few minutes later, footsteps. Bryan broke through the treeline, chest heaving. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t think. Something was pulling him here. He stepped into the clearing. Empty. His chest felt heavy. Like a stone. Had she not come? Had he been too late? Then he saw it. A scrap of white, tucked into the shield. He rushed forward and pulled it out. Her writing. Messy. Hurried. His heart flipped. Relief. Then longing. Then fear. She risked everything to come here. He looked around. Still no one. He pulled out his dagger. Without thinking, he carved words into the wood under the shield. Deep, so they wouldn’t wash away. A promise. Midnight. Same place. Come alone. He stepped back and stared at it. Praying to the gods that she would find it. Praying that this wasn’t another trap. Because if she came... And if he came... Then war, family, and blood be damned.