The night pressed down on Crescent Court like a suffocating shroud. Lianna sat on the edge of her bed, her breath shallow, her palms slick with sweat. The whisper still lingered in her ears—low, mocking, promising both ruin and choice. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the sensation of unseen fingers brushing her skin, nor the echo of that sinister laugh.
She rose, pacing the chamber with restless steps. The shadows clung stubbornly to the corners, as though reluctant to recede. Candlelight flickered nervously, casting long, distorted silhouettes against the walls.
Lianna's hand hovered near the hilt of her sword. She wanted to scream, to rouse the entire fortress, but doubt shackled her voice. If she admitted what she had heard, what she had felt, would they believe her? Or would they see her as weak—unfit to carry the burden fate had thrust upon her?
Her door creaked open before she could decide.
"Lianna?"
The deep timbre of Han Feng's voice sent relief crashing through her. He stepped inside, his expression sharp, his eyes scanning the chamber with the efficiency of a soldier who expected danger at every turn.
"You're awake," she said, her voice breaking slightly.
"I felt something," he admitted. "A disturbance. Dark energy." His gaze fixed on her, unyielding. "It was here, wasn't it?"
Her lips parted in shock. "You… you felt it too?"
Han Feng gave a curt nod. "Not the words. Just the presence. Heavy. Cold. The kind of power that leaves scars on the soul."
Before she could respond, another figure slipped inside. Yichen, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen, carried a lantern that painted his face in warm gold. His eyes darted between the two of them before landing on Lianna.
"You're pale," he said bluntly. "Tell me what happened."
Lianna hesitated. Both men watched her, waiting, their faces carved with very different kinds of concern—Han Feng's stoic and disciplined, Yichen's edged with raw intensity. She took a steadying breath.
"I heard him," she whispered. "Not just his presence. His voice. The Forgotten King spoke to me."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Yichen's jaw tightened. "What did he say?"
"That a storm is coming," she said, the memory making her shiver. "That I would have to choose—whether to stand or kneel."
Han Feng's eyes darkened. "He's probing you. Testing your resolve. If he can break your spirit before the battle, the war is already lost."
Yichen set the lantern down on her table with a sharp thud. "Or he's trying to claim her. Slowly. Whisper by whisper. The bastard is clever—he knows she's the key."
The words made Lianna's stomach twist. The key. Was that truly what she was? Nothing more than a piece on the board in a game far larger than herself?
Han Feng crouched in front of her, his gaze locking onto hers. "Did you answer him?"
"No!" she said quickly. "I didn't say a word."
"Good," he said firmly. "That silence is your shield. Never let him think you're listening. Never give him power through your voice."
Yichen crossed his arms, his tone sharp. "Easier said than done, soldier. Whispers can crawl into your bones, whether you want them to or not."
The tension between them ignited again, crackling in the air. Lianna stood abruptly, cutting it short. "Stop. We don't have time for this. The wards are failing. The scouts are disappearing. And now he's inside my chamber. We need to act."
Han Feng rose to his full height, nodding once. "You're right. We go to Commander Zhao. Now."
---
The council chamber was already buzzing when they arrived. Elders argued over maps, guards reported skirmishes along the outer ridges, and the scent of burning incense filled the air.
Commander Zhao looked up as the trio entered, his eyes narrowing. "What's the matter?"
Lianna forced the words out. "The Forgotten King spoke to me. In my chamber."
The chamber erupted with noise—murmurs, curses, even a few gasps of fear. Zhao raised a hand for silence, his expression unreadable.
"Tell me exactly what happened," he ordered.
Lianna recounted the whisper, the laugh, the chilling promise. As she spoke, she noticed several council members exchanging glances, their faces pale. One elder, a gaunt man named Shen, pressed his lips thin and muttered something too low to hear.
When she finished, Zhao's frown deepened. "The wards failed faster than expected. And now he dares to reach within our walls…" He slammed his fist against the table, rattling the lanterns. "There is a traitor among us. There can be no other explanation."
The elders stiffened, several voicing protests, but Zhao silenced them with a glare. "No one else knew of the wards' true strength but us in this chamber. If they collapsed, someone weakened them deliberately."
Lianna's heart pounded. The council itself? Could the traitor be standing right here, within arm's reach?
Yichen leaned casually against the wall, though his voice dripped with venom. "Well, isn't this cozy. Makes one wonder how many of you old men have already sold your souls."
"Careful, boy," Elder Shen snapped.
"Careful yourself," Yichen retorted, his eyes glinting dangerously.
Han Feng stepped between them, his voice like steel. "Enough. We don't have time for petty squabbles. If there is a traitor, they'll reveal themselves soon enough."
Zhao nodded grimly. "Until then, no one moves alone. We strengthen the inner wards and prepare for an assault. Dismissed."
---
The fortress roared with activity in the hours that followed. Soldiers reinforced walls, mages chanted over glowing runes, and blacksmiths hammered through the night. The sense of dread grew heavier with each passing moment, but so did the resolve.
Lianna found herself at the training grounds once more, her body aching but her spirit burning. She sparred with Yichen until her arms trembled, practiced formations with Han Feng until her feet blistered, and studied runes with the mages until her vision blurred.
Every time exhaustion whispered at her to stop, she heard the Forgotten King's laugh again—and pushed harder.
But even amidst the chaos of preparation, whispers of betrayal slithered through the ranks. Soldiers cast suspicious glances at one another. Rumors spread like wildfire—of missing supplies, broken seals, and strange footprints in forbidden corridors.
One evening, as Lianna left the training grounds, she noticed a figure slipping into the northern tower—a place restricted to high-ranking officers and mages. The figure moved quickly, glancing over their shoulder before vanishing inside.
Her pulse quickened. Should she follow?
Before she could decide, Yichen appeared at her side, his smirk thin. "See something interesting, little bride?"
Lianna stiffened. "Someone went into the tower. Someone who shouldn't."
Yichen's gaze sharpened, though his tone remained teasing. "Careful. Spying on shadows can get you killed."
"Then come with me," she challenged.
He tilted his head, studying her for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. Let's go hunting."
Together, they slipped toward the tower, the night swallowing their footsteps.
---
Inside, the air was colder, heavier. The stone walls seemed to hum with old magic, and faint blue runes pulsed along the floor. The figure was ahead of them, cloaked and hooded, moving with determined purpose.
Lianna's heart hammered as she pressed against the wall, watching. The figure paused at a sealed door, raised a hand, and whispered words too faint to catch. The runes flickered—then dimmed.
Her breath caught. This was no ordinary soldier. This was the traitor.
The door creaked open, revealing a staircase spiraling downward into darkness. The cloaked figure slipped inside.
Yichen leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "Well, well. Looks like we found our snake."
Lianna swallowed hard. "Do we follow?"
Yichen's grin was sharp, but his eyes burned with something darker. "After you, little bride. Let's see where the rabbit hole leads."
---
The air in the northern tower's stairwell was damp and stale, as though it hadn't been touched by wind in centuries. Each step Lianna took echoed faintly, swallowed almost immediately by the thick silence. Yichen trailed close behind her, every movement surprisingly controlled for someone usually so reckless.
The glow of the cloaked figure's rune-light bobbed ahead of them, disappearing briefly as the figure descended deeper.
Lianna's throat tightened. The stairs felt endless, spiraling down and down, until the air grew colder, denser. She could feel the pulse of ancient wards in the stones, faint and struggling—like the last heartbeats of a dying man.
Yichen leaned close, whispering into her ear. "He's no low-ranking pawn. Whoever that is, they've studied magic forbidden to most."
Her hand brushed the hilt of her sword. "Then we catch him in the act."
"Or die trying," Yichen muttered, though his grin betrayed excitement.
---
At last, the stairway spilled into a cavernous chamber buried beneath the fortress. The sight stole Lianna's breath.
The ceiling soared high, supported by pillars carved with twisting runes that glowed faintly in the dark. At the chamber's center, a massive seal dominated the floor—a circle of intricate sigils, its lines cracked and dimming. The very air throbbed with unstable energy, sharp enough to sting the skin.
The cloaked figure knelt at the seal's edge, pressing bloodied hands into its cracks. The glow flared faintly, then sputtered. A hiss of frustration slipped from beneath the hood.
Lianna's stomach twisted. This was it. This was how the wards were breaking.
Before she could speak, Yichen's hand gripped her wrist. He shook his head, mouthing a single word: Wait.
The figure drew a dagger, slicing a fresh cut into their palm. The blood dripped onto the seal, spreading like veins of red lightning across the cracks. The runes flickered violently, and the ground shuddered.
A sound tore through the chamber—low, guttural, and wrong. It wasn't a sound meant for human ears. It was the echo of chains rattling in the abyss.
Lianna's knees weakened. She forced herself to breathe, to stay steady.
Yichen's eyes blazed. "He's feeding it. He's feeding him," he whispered.
As if sensing them, the cloaked figure jerked their head up. For a brief moment, Lianna caught a flash of their face beneath the hood—sharp features, eyes glowing faintly with corrupted light. Recognition stabbed her chest.
She knew that face.
"Elder Shen," she gasped.
The elder's lips curled into a cruel smile. "So. The little bride stumbles upon truth."
---
Yichen cursed under his breath, drawing his blade in a swift, fluid motion. Lianna unsheathed hers as well, her hands trembling but steady enough.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice echoing. "Why would you betray your own people?"
Shen rose slowly, blood still dripping from his palm. His shadow stretched unnaturally long across the floor, curling and twisting like living things.
"Because your people are weak," Shen spat. "Clinging to dying wards, to false hope. The Forgotten King offers power beyond imagining. Eternal dominion. I chose the winning side."
"You chose chains," Yichen sneered, his sword catching the faint light. "And you'll choke on them."
With a wave of Shen's bloodied hand, the cracked runes flared. The shadows in the chamber peeled away from the walls, coalescing into twisted forms—figures with too many limbs, eyes glowing like embers, their bodies rippling as though made of smoke and bone.
Lianna's breath hitched. The whispers returned, louder now, clawing at her mind. Kneel. Kneel. Kneel.
She bit down hard on her lip until she tasted blood, forcing the voices back. "Yichen—"
"I know," he growled, bracing himself. "Shadows."
The creatures lunged.
---
The chamber erupted in chaos.
One shadow beast crashed toward Lianna, its clawed arm sweeping with unnatural speed. She ducked, her blade flashing upward, slicing through its arm. The creature shrieked, its body unraveling like smoke, but it reformed instantly, lunging again.
Yichen fought with terrifying grace, his blade dancing in arcs of steel. Every movement was precise, lethal, fueled by fury. He cut through one shadow, spun, and drove his sword into another, pinning it to the rune-carved floor. The creature howled before dissolving into smoke.
But for every shadow destroyed, two more emerged.
Shen laughed, his voice echoing grotesquely in the cavern. "Futile! You cannot fight darkness with steel alone!"
Lianna's heart pounded. Her blade passed through the shadows, scattering them, but they always reformed. Her arms ached, her lungs burned.
Then—something inside her stirred.
The mark on her wrist, the one that had burned since her marriage ceremony, pulsed violently. A heat spread through her veins, foreign and yet familiar, as though awakening from deep slumber. The shadows recoiled slightly, their movements faltering whenever her mark flared.
Yichen noticed, his eyes widening. "Lianna—your hand!"
She looked down. The mark blazed with silver light, lines of energy coursing across her skin like living flame. Her sword vibrated, humming as though answering the call.
Fear warred with instinct, but instinct won. She raised her blade, channeling the strange energy that poured through her. The silver light leapt from the sword's edge, slicing clean through a shadow. This time, the creature screamed and dissolved completely, leaving nothing behind.
The chamber fell silent for a heartbeat. Then the shadows shrank back, hissing.
Shen's smile faltered.
Lianna's chest heaved. She tightened her grip, steadying her stance. "I don't need chains," she said, her voice clear and strong. "I'll fight with my own strength."
Yichen grinned, fierce and proud. "Now that's the little bride I like."
Together, they pressed forward, silver light and steel tearing through the shadows. For the first time, it felt like hope.
---
But Shen was not finished. With a roar of rage, he slammed his hands into the seal. Blood splattered, runes cracked, and the ground split. A fissure tore open, black mist billowing from the depths. The shadows surged, more violent than before.
And from within the fissure… chains rattled.
The sound chilled Lianna's marrow.
The voice returned, clearer, closer.
"Child of fate…"
This time, it wasn't in her mind. It filled the chamber, deep and resonant, vibrating through the stone. The shadows bowed toward the fissure as though in reverence.
Yichen pulled Lianna behind him, his grin gone, his face pale. "He's coming."
Shen's eyes gleamed with madness. "Yes! Witness true power! Witness your king!"
The fissure widened. A hand—massive, skeletal, wrapped in chains—grasped the edge, pulling upward. The entire chamber shook.
Lianna's breath caught. This was no whisper, no vision. The Forgotten King himself was clawing his way into their world.
---
❓️❓️❓️❓️❓️
With the Forgotten King breaking through the seal and a traitor revealed among their ranks, can Lianna and Yichen stop his emergence—or will this be the night Crescent Court falls?