Chapter 24 – The Queen's Gambit
The duel raged as if the gods themselves had bound steel to destiny. Every strike of Maniakes' blade rang like a death knell; every parry from Arthelion carried the weight of a kingdom's survival. Yet stone cracked, banners burned, and the throne hall became little more than ruin.
But then—footsteps echoed.
"Stop!"
The voice cut through the thunder of steel. From the shadowed archway emerged Queen Salera. Her gown was torn, ash streaked across her face, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She carried no weapon—only the authority of her heart.
"Maniakes," she cried, her voice trembling but firm, "you bear his blood… and mine as well. Before you strike again, look at me. Look at the mother who bore you!"
The shadows writhed uneasily around Maniakes. For a moment, the warrior faltered. His grip on the blade slackened, his fury wavering. His eyes flickered, not with fire, but with something dangerously human—doubt.
Arthelion's blade remained poised, but his lips quivered. He had not dared hope Salera would intervene.
"Do not listen," Arthelion growled. "He is lost."
Salera stepped between them, her hands raised, her body trembling as though the shadows themselves weighed upon her shoulders. She looked at Maniakes, tears spilling freely now.
"You were not cast away by me," she whispered. "I begged to hold you. I fought to keep you. And every night since, I have dreamed of the son they stole from my arms."
The chamber fell silent save for the wind moaning through shattered windows.
Maniakes' blade quivered. The shadows hissed like serpents at his hesitation, pressing him toward blood.
And then, a voice slithered through his mind—deep, mocking, godlike.
"Strike her down. She weakens you."
Maniakes' face twisted in agony. For the first time, his enemy was not Arthelion, nor the soldiers outside, but himself.
The chapter closed with the blade trembling inches from his mother's chest… and his scream tearing the hall in two.
Chapter 25 – Betrayal in the Hall
The scream was not of rage, but of torment. Maniakes staggered backward, shadows clawing at his armor, demanding blood. Salera reached for him, but before she could touch his face—steel flashed.
The High Warlord of Zuvendis, a hulking figure armored in crimson, surged into the chamber with a cohort of guards. His command was sharp:
"Strike the traitor queen down! She sides with the monster!"
The words were daggers.
Salera froze, horror filling her as spears lowered toward her. Arthelion roared, "Hold your ground!" but his authority fractured against the fear that gripped his men.
The guards lunged. Maniakes' fury erupted.
The shadows lashed outward, cleaving through men as though they were parchment. Screams tore the chamber as bodies fell. The High Warlord charged, meeting Maniakes in a clash that shook the throne steps. For a heartbeat, steel against steel held—but Maniakes' cursed power shattered the man's blade, driving black fire through his chest. The warlord crumpled, lifeless.
Arthelion staggered, bloodied from the earlier duel, torn between defending his queen and rallying his men. Salera stood beside him, her hands trembling yet defiant.
"Do you see?" Maniakes bellowed, his voice breaking with wrath and despair. "Even when you would save me, they betray you. They call you traitor as they called me cursed. Tell me—who, then, deserves their loyalty?"
Salera could not answer. Her silence was salt to his wounds.
The guards fled. The hall fell still once more, save for the dripping of blood.
And in that silence, Arthelion spoke, his voice hollow.
"You have become the prophecy fulfilled."
Maniakes looked at him, broken laughter spilling from his lips. "No, Father. I am prophecy's vengeance."
And with that, he turned—not to strike his parents, but to storm the city itself.
Chapter 26 – The Burning Crown
Zuvendis burned.
The streets choked with ash, flames devoured homes, and the cries of its people echoed like hymns of despair. Maniakes strode through the chaos like a living storm, his shadows carving paths of ruin. Yet his face was not triumphant—it was twisted in torment, every death both fuel and curse.
Above the city, upon the shattered balcony of the palace, Salera watched. Her heart wrenched at the sight. Arthelion stood beside her, blood seeping through his armor, his face carved with grief deeper than any wound.
"Your son will end us all," he whispered.
"No," Salera said, clutching the railing. "He is not lost. He can still be reached."
But even as she spoke, Maniakes raised his blade toward the heavens.
The god who had cursed him answered.
The skies split. A roar like a thousand storms descended. From the rift above came winged beasts, forged of fire and hatred, sent to devour the city and their own champion.
Maniakes did not falter. With a roar that shook the stones, he leapt into the swarm, blade blazing, shadows screaming at his command. Monsters fell, torn apart by his fury. Yet with each one slain, the god's laughter echoed louder, mocking, cruel.
Salera's hands gripped the rail until her knuckles bled.
"Every strike draws him deeper into their chains," she whispered.
Arthelion closed his eyes. "Then it is not only Zuvendis that will fall… but the world."
The chapter ended as Maniakes, drenched in blood and fire, raised his sword again—and for a heartbeat, the crown of Zuvendis glimmered in the reflection of his blade.
The crown of a king.