บททั้งหมดของ Crown of Betrayal: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

“In the beginning, there was nothing — and in that nothing, love.”From the void walked two gods, hand in hand through silence: Acacia, Goddess of Light and Magic, and Finvarra, God of Nature and Renewal. Their love was the first spark — the breath that stirred creation. When their fingers entwined, the darkness trembled, and from that touch was born Nethara, a world of breath and stone and dream.Their laughter became the wind. Their tears became the rivers. Where they kissed, forests bloomed like sighs from sleeping earth. When they danced, stars fell across the sky to watch.For a time, there was only harmony.From the clay of their joy, the Terrans came — mortals of flesh and spirit, the first children of Nethara. They lived by the divine laws, honoring the balance between light and life, creation and decay. The gods watched in peace, content.But creation begets longing.Acacia, ever the dreamer, looked upon the Terrans and saw potential — hearts yearning for magic, for the divin

Air tore into her lungs before awareness fully returned.Elora came upright in her narrow bed, fingers curling into the blanket as though she could anchor herself against the sensation of falling that still clung to her body. For a lingering moment the memory of open sky collapsing inward pressed against her ribs, the hollow absence where warmth had been settling just beneath her skin. Gradually the shape of her room replaced it—the slanted stone ceiling, the pale thread of morning light slipping through clear glass, the quiet weight of wool and wood and unmoving air. Everything held its place. Nothing vanished.She forced her breathing steady and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, letting her feet meet the polished boards below. Solid. Predictable. The kind of ground that did not disappear without warning.“The dream again,” she murmured.It had followed her since her first shift at sixteen, returning with quiet insistence: the same forest, the same running, the same presence be

The rest of the morning settled into its practiced rhythm, noise contained within order rather than chaos. Boots struck polished stone in measured waves. Locker sigils dimmed as students sealed them with a brush of their palms. Voices rose and fell beneath the vaulted ceilings, layered but disciplined.Elora moved through it beside Kailee, offering nods where required and returning greetings without lingering. The hall carried the scent of warmed stone and oiled metal, of fabric and steel and youth trained to hold themselves upright before they were fully grown.Usually, the familiarity steadied her.Today, it pressed against her skin.They entered the lecture chamber with the others, tiered rows rising in gradual arcs toward the rear wall. Polished wood desks were anchored into carved stone foundations, copper inlays tracing deliberate patterns across their surfaces to stabilize the crystal plates set neatly at their center. Cushioned benches softened the structure beneath, worn smoot

Battle Training was the only place Elora truly felt like herself.The field behind Upper Ring Hall stretched wide beneath a pale afternoon sun, the ground still dark in places where last night’s rain had sunk deep into the soil. Beyond the boundary lines, ironwood trees rose in like a wall, their leaves flashing silver-green whenever the wind caught them just right, as if the whole forest carried a blade of light inside it. The air smelled sharp and clean—wet bark, slick stone, churned earth—layered over the familiar metallic tang of the weapons rack where training steel hung in disciplined rows, handles polished smooth by years of hands that learned to strike before they could ever learn to doubt.Lunar runes circled each sparring ring, carved into the ground with old reverence and fresh precision, their glow steady and silver as they channeled Mahina’s blessing into the training lines. At the edge of each ring stood slender copper pylons set with clear quartz crystals, their surfaces

The morning after Kailee’s birthday party felt strangely suspended — somewhere between celebration and silence.Elora and Kailee stepped off the transit platform together, the shimmering runes beneath their feet fading as the lift doors slid closed behind them. The city breathed in slow, warm strokes around them: merchants setting out morning wares, magelight lanterns dimming into daylight, the scent of spiced pastries drifting along the street.Their favorite café sat tucked between a florist and a rune-smithy — a narrow building with ivy curling around its windows and a bell that chimed softly whenever someone entered.Kailee pushed the door open with her hip. “I swear, Lor, if this place ever closes, I’m storming the Packhouse myself.”Elora snorted. “You wou