All Chapters of THE ALTAR WE BURNED : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The air in Ember Hollow had grown thicker, as if the very land held its breath. The blood moon loomed high in the ink-black sky, its crimson glow bathing the ancient pines and moss-covered stones in a hue both beautiful and ominous. It was the first Blood Moon of the decade, a sacred celestial event in the world of the Elders, marked by rituals, renewal, and sometimes—death.Isabella stood on the terrace of the council chamber, the chill of the night clinging to her skin like a warning. Draped in a ceremonial cloak, her eyes were fixed on the moon. Tonight, she would not only confront the Council of Elders again, but she would also make her oath—one that would bind her future, her calling, and her heart.Behind her, Arthur approached silently. The prince, once aloof and enigmatic, now wore the solemnity of a man walking into a storm with his head held high. His hand reached for Isabella’s, intertwining their fingers."Are you ready?" he asked softly.

The icy breath of dawn whispered through the highlands, casting a silvery sheen over the moss-laced stones of Ember Hollow. Despite the tranquil beauty of the land, an air of unrest lingered like a storm on the edge of the horizon. Isabella stood at the heart of the Sacred Glade, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of her ceremonial dagger, eyes closed, breath steady.For weeks now, she had been plagued with visions—some gifted by the Moon Mother, others twisted echoes seeded by the Council of Elders. The deeper her calling pulled her into the ancient rites, the clearer it became that the Council had woven itself into every corner of their lore, rewriting prophecy, bending faith to serve their secret purpose.Arthur stood nearby, his stance protective yet restrained. He knew better than to interfere with her sacred rites, yet every tremor in her breath, every bead of sweat on her brow, etched itself into his heart like a brand. He had fought monsters, endur

The storm broke over Ember Hollow like a scream from the heavens. Thunder cracked with the fury of ancient gods, lightning cleaving the sky as if marking the hour of reckoning. Rain poured down in great sheets, drenching stone and soul alike. But neither the storm nor the dark would deter the rebellion anymore. Tonight, the Hollowborn would rise. Inside the hidden chambers beneath the Resistance Keep, Isabella stood before the Flame Altar, the last Seer Stone pulsing in her palm. Around her, the other rebels—mages, warriors, kinfolk, and outlanders—gathered in a hushed circle. The chamber was alive with energy, a heartbeat of destiny vibrating in the air. Arthur stood to her right, his sword sheathed but hands poised. Across from him, Freya lit ceremonial torches in each of the chamber’s four corners, their blue flames dancing to the rhythm of the awakening runes. Isabella lifted the Seer Stone high. "Tonight, we awaken not just the power

The flames from the sanctum still danced in Isabella's eyes, even long after she had stepped away from the sacred chamber. Her skin tingled as though kissed by celestial fire. The ritual had awakened more than ancient runes and dormant spirits—it had awakened something in her. Something that pulsed beneath her ribcage, alive and relentless. Arthur watched her from the balcony of the eastern tower, the soft breeze tugging at his coat. He had seen her shift before, had watched her become the vessel of prophecy and fury, but this... this was different. Her presence now shimmered with an energy that made even the shadows hesitant to draw near. "You didn't come to rest," Isabella said softly, joining him, her voice just above a whisper. He looked at her with solemn eyes. "How could I? You carry a star in your chest, Isa. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that star burns hotter with every passing breath?" She looked down at her

The Cathedral’s heart pulsed with a silence so suffocating, it might as well have been screaming.The doors shut behind them, sealing Isabella and Arthur into a sanctum neither had entered before—a chamber older than Ember Hollow itself. Its marble floors were veined with blood-red stone; the domed ceiling soared above, frescoed with images of saints long erased from scripture. Candles floated in the air, untouched by gravity, suspended by magic that had not been taught in generations.And at the center stood the Elders.They formed a perfect circle around the Altar of Ascension—twelve of them, cloaked in the veils of ancient office, their faces hidden behind masks carved from obsidian and pearl. Each carried a staff adorned with a single artifact: bone, feather, fang, flame. All symbols of their domains. All now pointed inward.Toward Arthur and Isabella.Catherine stood before the altar, robed in the crimson of the Martyr's Order. Her s