Chapter 86

The smoke of battle clung to the rafters of the shattered throne room, curling like restless spirits searching for peace. Serenya Vale stood frozen in the aftermath, her palm still sticky with Darian’s blood. The world around her felt suspended, balanced on a single fragile breath.

Thalric Veynor’s body lay crumpled against the throne, his last sneer silenced, but the weight of his venom lingered like a curse. Darian’s shallow breathing was a tether pulling her back from despair, yet fear gnawed at her heart. His sacrifice had bought them a fleeting victory, nothing more.

Kaelen Draven’s shadows withdrew to his shoulders like a restless cloak, his sword dripping with blackened ichor. He watched Serenya with eyes that concealed storms. “We cannot linger here,” he murmured. “The castle bleeds enemies. Thalric’s death will not end this war—it will ignite it.”

Before Serenya could reply, the chamber doors groaned open. Orren Kaelith strode through, armor dented, his halberd streaked with the blood of foes. The Guardian’s presence was like the strike of an anvil: steady, commanding, unyielding. His gaze swept across the devastation, pausing at Isolde’s lifeless form before fixing on Serenya.

“You live,” Orren said, voice low but edged with relief. Then his eyes darkened as they fell on Darian. “But at what cost?”

Serenya swallowed the sob rising in her throat. “He fought to save us all. He—” Her words fractured. She pressed her hand harder against Darian’s wound, as though sheer will could hold him to this world.

Orren knelt beside her, calloused hands firm and sure. “There is no saving him here. We must move, or all his sacrifice will be wasted.”

But Darian stirred, his voice a ragged whisper. “Don’t… carry me. Fight… for her crown. Leave me—”

“No!” Serenya’s cry cracked through the silence. “I won’t abandon you. Not again, not after everything.”

Kaelen stepped closer, his tone sharp. “Serenya, he’s right. The longer we stay, the more we endanger everything he fought for.”

The clash of loyalty and love tore her apart. She wanted to scream at them both, to defy fate, to tear down the walls of this cursed hall until destiny itself bent. But Darian’s hand weakly gripped hers, and his eyes—fading but resolute—pleaded with her to let go.

“I’ll hold them,” Darian whispered. “As long as I can. Take the path below. Live, Serenya. Live for us.”

Orren’s jaw clenched. “You won’t buy time alone.”

He rose, his halberd glinting in the dying firelight, and for the first time Serenya saw not just a guardian, but a man ready to embrace death.

“Orren—” she began, but his voice cut firm.

“Your crown needs you alive. Darian’s blood has opened the way. Let mine guard it to the end.”

Her heart convulsed. First Isolde, now Darian, and now Orren? Was destiny nothing but a hunger devouring everyone she loved?

Kaelen’s hand brushed her arm, anchoring her trembling form. “If we stay, their sacrifice means nothing. Trust them, Serenya. Trust me.”

Tears blurred her vision as Orren lifted Darian carefully, setting him against the base of the throne. The knight’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest rising faintly, but his lips curved in the ghost of a smile.

Orren turned back, towering like an unmovable mountain. “Go. And do not look back.”

Then the sound came—boots pounding in the corridors, shouts rising like a storm. Thalric’s loyalists were coming. The throne room doors shook with the force of many fists, steel on steel echoing in the halls.

Orren strode to the center of the chamber, planting his halberd into the cracked marble. Shadows of defiance burned around him. He looked once at Serenya—one final vow unspoken between guardian and heiress—before his face hardened into a mask of war.

The doors burst open. Dozens of armored soldiers surged inside, eyes blazing with vengeance at the sight of their fallen duke.

Serenya’s heart screamed against her ribs. She wanted to fight, to stand beside Orren, but Kaelen seized her wrist, dragging her toward the hidden passage behind the throne.

“Serenya!” Orren’s voice thundered above the clash of steel. “Claim your crown. Do not let us fall in vain.”

The last thing she saw before the passage swallowed her was Orren Kaelith standing unbroken, halberd cleaving through the first wave of foes, his roar shaking the very stones.

The hidden corridor was narrow, its walls slick with damp, lit only by Kaelen’s conjured flame. Serenya stumbled, her sobs echoing in the confined darkness.

“He stayed behind… he’ll die!” she gasped, clutching the cold stone.

Kaelen’s grip tightened on her arm. “He chose this. Guardians are not remembered by how they live, Serenya, but by whom they protect.”

“Then why must it always be me?” she cried, voice breaking. “Why must every path to the throne be built with their blood?”

Kaelen halted, his shadowed eyes meeting hers in the flickering light. “Because you are the only one who can end this. That is the curse of your crown. And it is also its gift.”

His words cut deep, but beneath them was a truth she could no longer deny. Serenya straightened, her tears still burning but her spine firming with steel. “Then I will end it. For Darian. For Isolde. For Orren.”

For a moment, Kaelen’s gaze softened, his hand brushing away a stray tear. Shadows coiled at his shoulders, but his touch was warm. “And for yourself. Do not forget that.”

Behind them, faintly through the stone, the battle still raged. Orren’s voice rose in a final bellow, followed by the thunderous crash of steel upon marble. Then—silence.

Serenya’s breath caught. Her knees weakened, but Kaelen steadied her, his jaw tight, his silence heavy. They both knew what silence meant.

The Guardian had fallen.

And with his fall, the weight of destiny pressed heavier on Serenya’s shoulders.

But as she forced herself to walk forward, every step was a vow. Orren’s sacrifice would not be forgotten. His blood, like Darian’s and Isolde’s, would forge the crown not in gold, but in love, loyalty, and loss.

Ahead, the corridor opened into moonlight spilling across the outer gardens. The night air was cold and sharp, but it tasted of freedom—and of battles yet to come.

Serenya lifted her chin toward the stars, their light fractured but unyielding. “I will not fail them,” she whispered. “Not while I still breathe.”

Kaelen’s shadows stirred in answer, wrapping protectively around her. “Then let us finish what they began.”

And together, they stepped into the night, carrying with them the weight of fallen guardians, and the fire of a destiny that had only grown fiercer in blood.