Novel Bin
The Blood Oath
Kaelin Darkhaven stood atop the parapet of the fortress city of Nighthaven, his eyes fixed on the approaching army of the sorceress-queen, Lyraea. The winds howled and lightning illuminated the darkening skies, casting an otherworldly glow over the battle-scarred landscape. The air reeked of smoke, sweat, and ozone, the stench of war clinging to every surface.
As the enemy forces drew closer, Kaelin's gaze narrowed, his mind racing with the implications of Lyraea's sudden attack. The sorceress-queen's motives remained unclear, but one thing was certain: she would stop at nothing to claim the throne of Tenria.
"Illusionary Grandmaster, what's the situation?" Kaelin asked, his voice low and even, as he turned to the figure standing beside him.
Grandmaster Erebus, a wizened old man with eyes that burned like embers, nodded gravely. "Our scouts report Lyraea's forces number at least thirty thousand, Kaelin. We can't hold out for much longer. The city's defenses are breached in multiple locations, and our troops are thinly stretched."
Kaelin's jaw clenched, his grip on Umbra's hilt tightening. The sword, passed down through his family for generations, seemed to hunger for the coming battle. Its power coursed through him, awakening the ancient bloodline of his ancestors.
"Summon the Bloodguard," Kaelin ordered, his voice carrying across the battlements. "Assemble the remnants of the city watch and prepare for a last stand. We'll hold the enemy at the gates until—"
A burst of trumpets cut him off, and a herald, resplendent in Lyraea's crimson and gold livery, rode forward, carrying a snow-white flag emblazoned with the sorceress-queen's crest. The man's voice boomed across the battlefield:
"Lyraea, Sovereign of the Realm of Shadows, demands the immediate surrender of Nighthaven and its defenders! You have one hour to comply, lest you face the full fury of our wrath!"
Kaelin sneered, his eyes flashing with defiance. "Tell Lyraea that Kaelin Darkhaven, wielder of Umbra and scion of the Bloodhaven clan, refuses her offer. We'll not kneel to her tyranny. Let her come and take it from us, if she dares!"
The herald's face twisted in a snarl, but he bowed stiffly, reining in his mount. "As you wish, Kaelin Darkhaven. But know this: your stubbornness will be your downfall. Lyraea's power is not to be underestimated."
As the herald rode back to his own lines, Kaelin turned to the Shadow Broker, who had appeared at his side. "What news do you bring, Broker?"
The hooded figure's voice was like a whisper on the wind. "Rumors spread of a hidden sect, forged in the heart of the cursed forest, Aethereia. They possess secrets that could tip the balance of power in Tenria. I've secured an... arrangement with one of their agents. Meet me at the old windmill on the outskirts of the city, and—"
"The Red Viper," Kaelin breathed, his eyes locking onto the Broker's. "You've found a way to contact it?"
The Shadow Broker's hooded head inclined, once, twice. "The game of fate is afoot, Kaelin Darkhaven. The question is, will you play to win, or be played?"
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