Chapter 37: The Ghost King Rises
421 Words
Chapter 37: The Ghost King Rises
A crack echoed through the underground chamber like thunder. Dust fell from the ceiling as Ava stepped forward, her flame-lit eyes locked on the tomb. Runes shimmered along the stone, pulsing with ancient magic—wild and furious.
Theron stood at her side, claws half-shifted, growl low in his throat. Kaelen positioned himself behind them, blades drawn. Rhea had followed too, her eyes wide with horror.
“This isn’t supposed to happen,” she whispered. “That tomb’s been sealed for over a thousand years.”
“And now something—or someone—is waking it,” Ava said grimly.
The fissures spread until the stone lid finally exploded outward in a violent burst of flame and black mist. Out of the smoke rose a towering figure, cloaked in charred armor, silver crown cracked and eyes glowing the color of dying embers.
Ava instinctively stepped back. Every part of her screamed to run, but the fire in her blood roared louder, answering the presence like a long-forgotten call.
Theron shielded her with his body. “Who are you?”
The figure's voice was more a breath than a sound—deep and chilling. “I am what was lost. I am the first. I am the Ghost King.”
Kaelen swore under his breath. “No… he’s a myth. A warning. Not real.”
The Ghost King’s head tilted toward Ava. “And you, child of fire… you are my blood. My curse. My legacy.”
“I’m nothing like you,” Ava spat, though her flame flickered with uncertainty.
“Oh, but you are,” he murmured. “The Flame sings in your veins, the same way it once did in mine. You were born to reign beside me—reborn to finish what I could not.”
Theron stepped forward. “She will not be used. Not by you. Not by fate. Not by anyone.”
The Ghost King looked at him with pity. “Ah. The Lycan King who fell for the girl of fire. You think love will save her?” He raised one hand, and Ava dropped to her knees, writhing in sudden, burning agony.
“Ava!” Theron caught her, his hands desperately cooling her searing skin. The Ghost King vanished into black smoke, leaving only a whisper behind.
“I will return when the moon bleeds. And when it does, the flame will choose.”
The chamber dimmed. Silence returned.
But the war had already begun.
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