🌑 The Weight of Two Days
Two days had passed since Serath's parting threat, and the air in Blackfang Keep felt heavy—thick with anticipation.
Velka prowled the corridors at night, claws scratching against the stone. Kaelira barely spoke, sharpening her blades until they could split a falling hair. Serael took to the walls, watching the horizon without pause.
Caelen trained without complaint now. Every mistake was met with Lucien's cold correction, every small success with a nod that meant more than words.
Lucien could feel it—the gods were moving.
🗺️ War Council
In the war room, the queens stood around the great obsidian table. A map of the surrounding territories lay across it, dotted with carved markers for friendly and enemy forces.
Kaelira pointed to the eastern pass. "If they come from here, the cliffs will funnel them. Easy to defend, but if they breach—"
"They won't breach," Velka growled. "We'll pile their corpses so high they'll have to climb to reach us."
Serael spoke quietly, but her words cut sharp. "They won't attack conventionally. Elysera will send both mortal armies and divine forces. We need allies… mortal and otherwise."
Lucien's eyes lingered on a dark corner of the map—uncharted lands where the dead still walked. "…Then we wake some old friends."
⚰️ The Gravebound Pact
That night, Lucien rode out alone into the Wraithmoors, a land shunned for centuries. Mist clung to the ground, and shapes moved within it—human once, but not for many lifetimes.
He knelt before a cracked monument, pressing a drop of his blood into the stone.
"Rise," he commanded.
From the fog emerged a skeletal figure clad in rusted armor, a crown of bone upon its head.
"King Morridan," Lucien said. "I offer you war."
The dead king grinned, teeth clacking. "Then I offer you my army."
🛡️ Blackfang's Awakening
By dawn, the keep bustled with movement. Morridan's undead marched alongside Lucien's living forces, the sight unnerving even the queens.
Velka inspected the bone-armored warriors with a wicked grin. "I like them. They don't talk back."
Kaelira smirked. "They also don't sleep. Useful."
Serael, however, kept her bow in hand. "If they turn on us, we'll regret this."
Lucien's voice was calm. "They won't. Not while the Crown sits on my head."
🌌 The First Strike
That evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, the sky tore open.
From the rift poured golden light, and with it—wings. Dozens of them.
Divine vanguard.
The first arrow of the siege fell—not a mortal shaft, but a spear of pure light that punched through Blackfang's outer wall like paper.
Velka howled in excitement. "Finally."
⚔️ Battle on the Walls
Lucien barked orders as the queens leapt into the fray.
Kaelira's blades danced under the glow of divine fire, severing wings mid-flight. Velka wove between enemies, tearing through armor with flaming claws. Serael's arrows found celestial throats, dropping them like meteors.
Lucien's necromancy filled the sky with shrieking wraiths, pulling enemies down into the grasp of skeletal soldiers waiting below.
But for every foe they killed, more descended.
🌑 The Harbinger Appears
Then the air went still.
From the rift descended a figure clad in gold and shadow both—Elysera's chosen champion. His armor was etched with moving constellations, his sword a burning fragment of a star.
"Lucien Draemir," he called. "This is your only chance. Hand over the boy, and your keep will stand."
Lucien stepped forward, the Crown pulsing darkly. "Come and take him."
The champion smiled. "Gladly."
🖋️ End of Chapter 18
đź“ŁÂ CTA (Call-to-Action)
The siege has begun, and Elysera's champion has entered the field.
Should Lucien meet him in single combat, or use every weapon at once to break him?
đź’¬ Comment: Duel or Overwhelm?
🔜 Next Chapter: "The Champion Falls"
The first god-tier battle of the siege shakes Blackfang Keep to its core.