CHAPTER SIX: When Kings Bleed
1175 Words
War did not arrive quietly.
It roared.
The western gates of Vorthal blazed with defensive sigils, towering arches of black crystal etched with ancient runes. Beyond them stretched the Ashen Expanse a wasteland of broken rock and drifting embers.
And across that wasteland, House Vaelor marched.
Banners of midnight silk snapped violently in the heated wind. War-beasts massive horned creatures plated in iron scales dragged siege engines forged from bone and shadow metal.
Lyrielle stood atop the western ramparts beside Zerathion.
Below them, thousands of demons formed ranks.
Legions divided by caste:
The Iron Vanguard armored infantry with serrated spears.
The Winged Phalanx aerial fighters hovering in tight formations.
The Embercasters mages whose palms glowed with volatile flame.
At the forefront stood General Kael’thar, sword planted before him like an oath.
Lyrielle swallowed.
“This is because of me.”
“No,” Zerathion replied calmly. “This is because they were waiting.”
His gaze was fixed on the horizon.
“Maevryn seeks more than rebellion,” he continued. “He seeks spectacle.”
As if summoned by his words, a figure rose above the enemy lines.
Lord Maevryn unfurled his vast ink-black wings, lifting effortlessly into the air. His expression was serene, almost amused.
“My king!” his voice boomed across the battlefield. “You return to us bound and weakened. Did you think we would kneel?”
Zerathion did not raise his voice.
And yet his reply carried just as far.
“I expected ambition. I did not expect cowardice.”
Maevryn smiled thinly.
“Then face me.”
A challenge.
Direct.
Ancient law rippled through the ranks at the implication.
Lyrielle’s stomach dropped. “If you fight him”
“He intends to test the bond,” Zerathion said quietly.
“To see how much damage to you weakens me.”
Her pulse spiked.
“That’s insane.”
“This is demon politics.”
Maevryn descended closer to the barrier.
“Or does the Sun Blood frighten you?” he taunted.
The word ignited murmurs.
Lyrielle felt the sigil flare faintly.
Zerathion stepped forward to the very edge of the rampart.
“You mistake binding for weakness,” he said.
Then he stepped off.
Lyrielle’s breath caught
Until shadow unfurled behind him, vast black wings tearing from his back as he rose mid-air.
The battlefield stilled.
Two kings in the sky.
Power gathered around them like storm clouds colliding.
Then
They clashed.
The impact shattered sound.
Shockwaves rippled outward, cracking the earth below.
Lyrielle gripped the stone railing as heat and force whipped through the air.
Maevryn was fast.
Faster than the assassin.
His movements were precise, calculated. Blades of condensed shadow formed in his hands as he struck relentlessly.
Zerathion matched him blow for blow, dark energy tearing through the sky with every counterstrike.
Below them, the armies erupted.
Siege beasts charged the gates.
Embercasters hurled molten fire.
Winged demons collided mid-air in brutal spirals of claws and steel.
The barrier trembled.
Lyrielle felt it through the bond
Each strike Zerathion absorbed.
Each pulse of power he released.
And beneath it
A faint strain.
Maevryn noticed too.
He feinted left, then abruptly changed direction diving straight toward the ramparts.
Toward her.
Lyrielle froze only half a second before instinct screamed at her to move.
Maevryn slammed into the barrier above her, cracking it.
“Let us test the prophecy!” he called, eyes gleaming.
He drove a spear of shadow directly at her chest.
This time
She didn’t hesitate.
The Sun-Blood ignited.
Not golden.
White.
Blinding.
The spear disintegrated inches from her skin.
Energy surged outward in a violent wave that blasted Maevryn backward mid-air.
The battlefield paused for one impossible heartbeat.
Lyrielle stood glowing at the center of the rampart, light pouring from her veins.
Demons below screamed in shock.
Zerathion felt it through the bond a violent surge of shared power.
He turned that surge into fury.
Shadow swallowed the sky.
He struck Maevryn with enough force to drive him into the ashen earth below, carving a crater.
The enemy lines faltered.
But something shifted.
A sound beneath the chaos.
A deep, grinding fracture.
Lyrielle turned.
The barrier at the western gate
Was failing.
“General!” she shouted.
Kael’thar barked orders, legions shifting to reinforce.
But it was too late.
A massive war beast slammed into the weakened gate, shattering it in a storm of crystal shards.
House Vaelor surged forward.
They poured into the city.
Street fighting erupted instantly.
Lyrielle’s heart pounded.
“They’re inside.”
Zerathion landed beside her, eyes blazing with lethal focus.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
The word left her before she could reconsider.
He stared at her.
“You are the target.”
“And I am not powerless.”
Another explosion shook the ramparts.
Maevryn rose from the crater, bleeding but smiling.
“You see?” he called. “The mortal is the key!”
Lyrielle felt something click in her mind.
He wasn’t trying to kill her.
Not yet.
He wanted the court to see her power.
To fear it.
To turn against Zerathion completely.
“You’re playing into it,” she whispered to Zerathion.
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
A sudden scream echoed behind them.
Lyrielle turned
And froze.
Kael’thar stood at the base of the rampart stairs.
But he was not fighting the invading forces.
He was holding someone by the throat.
A palace guard.
One Lyrielle had seen stationed outside her chamber.
The guard’s eyes glowed faintly violet.
Vaelith’s color.
Treachery sigils burned across his armor.
“He was opening the inner wards,” Kael’thar growled.
The guard laughed weakly.
“You cannot hold both throne and prophecy,” he rasped.
Kael’thar snapped his neck without hesitation.
Lyrielle’s blood ran cold.
“They had someone inside,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Zerathion said quietly.
His gaze shifted slowly.
To Kael’thar.
For a single, dangerous second
Suspicion flickered.
Kael’thar met his eyes steadily.
“I did not betray you.”
Silence hung thick between them.
Maevryn’s forces pushed deeper into the city.
Flames rose in the distance.
The rebellion had become invasion.
And then
Something worse happened.
The bond between Lyrielle and Zerathion convulsed violently.
She gasped, dropping to her knees.
Pain lanced through her chest.
Not from injury.
From distance.
Maevryn was retreating rapidly beyond the outer wards
Dragging something with him.
A shard.
A fragment of ancient sealing magic.
Lyrielle’s eyes widened in horror.
“He has part of the spell that exiled you,” she breathed.
Zerathion’s expression darkened.
“If he completes it”
“He can seal you again,” she finished.
And this time
The bond would drag her with him.
The battlefield roared around them.
The city burned.
The rebellion was only the surface.
Maevryn hadn’t come to win.
He had come to gather what he needed.
And now
He had it.
Zerathion looked down at Lyrielle, power gathering in terrifying silence.
“This war,” he said softly, “has just changed.”
- Writer
