Well guys i took my last book off, so here is the idea better and more interesting.
They said war brought no good, but in this world, war was the only road to peace—and even that road was paved with corpses.
Steel screamed as it struck steel.
"Hold the line!" a commander roared from atop a dying horse. "Shields up! Push forward!"
The battlefield was alive with chaos. Soldiers shouted orders that vanished beneath the clang of swords and the screams of the wounded. Men fell where they stood, throats opened, armor split apart. Arrows hissed through the air, burying themselves in flesh. Horses reared in terror, some collapsing as spears pierced their bellies, crushing riders beneath them.
Blood soaked the hills.
Broken spears littered the ground like snapped bones. Bodies lay twisted, eyes wide and empty, hands still clenched around useless weapons. What had once been a tense standoff had eased into pure slaughter.
The flags of northern Greece were ripped from their poles and trampled into the mud, soaked in the blood of the men who had sworn to defend them.
For years, the north and south had clashed—endless wars, endless graves. But this battle was different.
The royal castle had been breached.
And the king was dying.
Inside the castle, King Nebulis the Great stood amid ruin.
His armor was cracked and dented, his golden cloak torn and darkened with blood—some his enemies', some his own. The marble floor was slick beneath his boots, bodies piled around him, invaders cut down where they had dared step.
An enemy soldier charged, screaming.
Nebulis met him head-on, driving his blade through the man's chest without slowing. Another came. Then another. He turned, struck, parried—each movement slower than the last, pain burning through his body like fire.
A spear slammed into his left ribcage.
Nebulis gasped, the force nearly dropping him to one knee. Blood poured freely now, warm and unstoppable. Still, he turned just in time to see another soldier rushing toward his son.
"No," he growled.
Summoning the last of his strength, Nebulis surged forward and cut the soldier down before the blow could land. The effort cost him everything.
He fell.
Prince Odim caught him before his body struck the floor.
"Father… no… please…"
Nebulis's vision blurred, but he saw his son's face—rage, fear, grief all colliding behind tear-filled eyes.
"Father, I promise to avenge your death," Odim said, his voice breaking. "I swear it."
A faint smile touched Nebulis's lips.
Those were the last words King Nebulis the Great ever heard.
To Odim, something irreplaceable was torn away. Not just a father, but a mentor, an anchor, a shield against the world. He could do nothing but watch as the life drained from the man once called the God King.
Across northern Greece, though they did not yet know it, a guardian had fallen.
The supreme emperor—slain in his own home.
Luckily, the prince still lived.
Nebulis had died killing the final invaders in the chamber, buying his son precious seconds. But more soldiers were already flooding through the castle gates.
Sir Fedrick knew this.
Saving Prince Odim was no longer a choice—it was the last hope of the north.
"I'll kill them!" Odim roared, clutching his father's lifeless body as tears streamed freely down his face. Rage consumed him. He tried to lift Nebulis's Valerian steel blade—crafted for kings alone—but the weight dragged his arm down.
Growling, he grabbed a fallen spear instead.
"My prince!" Sir Fedrick shouted. "We must leave—now! A multitude of soldiers is approaching. We will remember this day, but we must live to fight another!"
The words meant nothing to Odim.
All he knew was vengeance.
Then footsteps echoed behind them.
Paragon stepped into the chamber, armor unmarked, eyes cold. A soldier from the opposing army followed close behind him.
"Kill them all," Paragon ordered calmly.
The truth struck like a blade.
A traitor.
That was how the invaders had entered unnoticed.
Sir Fedrick acted without hesitation. He ripped the spear from Odim's grip and hurled it across the room. It struck the enemy soldier square in the chest.
Thud.
The body hit the marble floor, blood splattering outward.
Paragon reached for his sword—then froze.
For a heartbeat, memory overtook him. Battles fought side by side. Brotherhood forged in blood.
Sir Fedrick leaned close and whispered, "It's now or never."
He seized the prince's hand and ran.
They burst through a narrow door into a dark corridor, slamming it shut behind them.
The castle was lost.
Odim's rage drained into fear, cold and paralyzing. For the first time, he understood how close death had been. How foolish he had been.
"Quicker, boy!" Sir Fedrick barked. "We must reach your mother and sister before the army overruns us!"
They reached a door of pure silver—the most protected chamber in the castle.
"My lady!" Fedrick called. "Open up! The enemy has taken the castle!"
The door slid open.
Queen Vashti stood rigid, eyes scanning past them instantly.
"Where is my husband?" she asked quietly.
No one answered.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes searched the corridor behind them, then returned to Fedrick.
"Where is the king?"
Fedrick lowered his head.
The queen's knees nearly gave way. A broken sound escaped her as grief crushed her chest. She covered her mouth, tears spilling freely.
Behind her, Princess Raya froze.
She saw the blood on Odim's hands.
She stepped forward and clutched her mother's gown tightly, pressing her face into Vashti's side. She did not cry. She simply held on.
"My queen," Fedrick said firmly, "we do not have time."
"I cannot leave him," Vashti whispered.
"If we stay," Fedrick replied, voice heavy, "then his sacrifice will mean nothing."
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
"The tunnels are here," Vashti said weakly.
"Yes," Fedrick replied, "but not those. The true passage is older than this castle—knowledge passed from king to king, blood to blood. Paragon does not know the way."
Understanding flickered in her eyes.
"Lead us," she said.
A section of the wall shifted open, revealing a narrow descend into darkness.