Thorns of the Moonlit Throne
Volume 5 — Chapter 13: The Architect Strikes Back
Writer: Sabbir Ahmed
The network trembled, but the Architect did not falter—at least not completely.
Outside Arvandor, the northern skies fractured, shards of frozen starlight slicing through villages, rivers, and forests. Unlike before, this time the fragments were aggressive, hunting, probing, bending reality around them to suppress any choice.
Lyriana's crown pulsed violently as she rode through the chaos with Eryon at her side. "He's striking beyond the network," she shouted over the roaring wind. "If we don't hold Arvandor together, every city we saved will fall back into stillness!"
Aryn's voice came from the Shadowlink—a faint echo through their connection. "Lyriana… I can feel him pushing back in the network. He's trying to overwrite me, make me part of his design."
Lyriana gritted her teeth, gripping the reins. "Then you won't do it alone. I'll fight with you."
Eryon's shadows surged, forming a protective barrier around the capital. "We can delay the outside assault," he said, "but the network is Aryn's battlefield. We cannot enter it. We can only hold the world while he strikes the core."
Inside the network, Aryn faced the Architect directly. The perfect figure moved with precision, striking shards like lightning, twisting them to trap him in loops of frozen cities. "You are persistent," the Architect said, voice cutting through fractured reality. "But resistance is… temporary."
Aryn staggered under the pressure, Shadowmark flaring in pain. "Temporary? Then I'll make it last as long as I can," he shot back, pushing against the tide of control.
Outside, Lyriana's eyes scanned the horizon. Villages wavered between motion and pause, but the people resisted, subtle acts of defiance amplifying the Shadowmark's resonance. Every heartbeat, every choice, every whispered prayer in Arvandor strengthened Aryn from within.
The Architect's hand froze mid-motion, fragments shuddering. For the first time, his perfect strikes failed to crush resistance outright.
Aryn pressed on, Shadowmark glowing like a sun within the void. "Your design ends here," he declared. "I carry life. I carry choice. You cannot stop that."
The network trembled violently. Outside, Arvandor's people moved, breathed, and chose once more.
Even perfection had limits.