"To love a god is to bleed like a mortal."
---
The air screamed before the horns did.
From the northern ridge, under a twilight sky, the first of the Pale King's forces marched in twisted formation—rows of frost-zombies, black-armored berserkers, and looming siege beasts with runic chains rattling from their jaws.
But the worst was yet to come.
The Wraithcaller.
A creature once human, now cloaked in spectral chains and burning soul-fire, floated between the frontlines like a priest of death.
And he wasn't coming for the kingdom.
He was coming for Velra.
---
Inside the walls – War prep
Lucien adjusted his obsidian pauldrons, cloak flaring, eyes locked on the eastern gate.
The war map had melted hours ago—too much magic now corrupted the air.
Velra appeared beside him, pale but composed, lacing her fingers into his.
"I feel him."
Lucien didn't ask how.
He already knew.
"He's calling for you," Lucien said. "Why?"
Her voice was quiet. "Because I escaped his leash. And he wants it back."
---
Elsewhere – Kaela strapped her twin daggers to her thighs, armor tight across her curves, fury storming behind her eyes.
Seris watched from across the barracks, gripping her sacred frost staff.
"I know we don't like each other," Seris muttered.
Kaela cracked her neck. "Takes two to hate, priestess."
"But we love the same fool."
"…Unfortunately."
They locked eyes.
Then nodded.
"Let's keep him alive."
---
The First Charge – Gates Open
Lucien led the charge.
Kaela danced through undead like a demoness—blades singing, eyes glowing with untamed rage. Every time a soldier got close to Lucien, she was there—killing for him.
Seris followed behind, her magic shielding the troops, barriers bursting in pale light as arrows rained down.
And Velra… oh, Velra didn't fight from behind.
She walked into battle barefoot, dress shredded at the hem, hands glowing with cursed flame and runes no one alive could name.
The enemy froze when they saw her.
And then she burned them all.
---
Mid-Battle – The Wraithcaller Lands
A wave of wind knocked Lucien off his feet as the sky split open—
A portal of bone and frost burst above them, and he arrived.
The Wraithcaller hovered six feet off the ground, his face obscured by a crown of smoke and chain, his voice a thousand whispers.
"Velra Noctis. Return… or die screaming."
She stepped forward.
"No."
He raised one clawed hand.
Velra collapsed to her knees instantly—screaming in agony, bleeding from her nose, her curse trying to obey him.
Lucien moved.
Fast.
---
He clashed with the Wraithcaller in a violent burst of frost and fire.
Steel met shadow.
Every strike cost him a memory. Every block burned his blood.
Lucien pushed harder. Faster.
Then—a scream.
Velra.
The chains wrapped around her throat. Dragging her across the battlefield toward the Wraithcaller.
Lucien's eyes flared silver.
"ENOUGH!"
---
Everything exploded.
His mark ignited.
The battlefield trembled.
Ice cracked under his feet.
Lucien's form shifted—part mortal, part Sovereign.
He charged—
Blade first.
Straight through the Wraithcaller's chest.
---
But it wasn't enough.
The creature hissed, grabbed Lucien's face—
And whispered:
"She was made to betray you. You're just too broken to see it."
Lucien staggered.
Velra screamed again, blood pouring from her lips, reaching for him—
Then Kaela dove in from behind.
Her daggers buried into the Wraithcaller's back.
He exploded in black flame.
All three were thrown into the snow.
---
Aftermath – Crater Site
Lucien coughed, blinking through ash.
Velra was limp beside him. Chains burned into her skin. Faint breath.
Kaela crawled over, her side slashed, eyes furious and wet.
"Why do you always make me save you?" she snapped, voice shaking.
Lucien looked at her—then at Velra.
And whispered:
"Because I'm starting to forget who I'm fighting for."
"A kiss from a warrior cuts deeper than any blade."
---
The battlefield was silent.
Ash fell like black snow.
The last of the Wraithcaller's wailing faded into the abyss.
Lucien stood in the center of a crater of scorched frost, barely holding Velra's limp form in his arms. Her skin was marked with spectral bruises, lips pale, pulse faint.
Kaela stood behind him, blood streaming down her side.
But she wasn't looking at Velra.
She was staring at him.
---
"Lucien," she said.
He turned slightly, exhaustion in his every motion.
Kaela didn't hesitate.
She walked to him.
Grabbed his collar.
And kissed him.
---
Not teasing.
Not smug.
Not playful.
This time, it was real.
Her lips trembled. Her hand gripped the back of his head.
His eyes widened—then closed.
And for a moment, all the blood and frost and fear melted into that kiss.
A kiss that said: "You idiot. I've always wanted you."
---
When she finally pulled back, her voice was hoarse.
"I've killed for you. I've bled for you. And I've watched you throw yourself into the arms of danger like love was a suicide pact."
Lucien opened his mouth—
"Don't," she cut in. "Let me say it."
She stepped forward, pressing a hand to his heart.
"I'm not soft like Seris. I'm not cursed like Velra. I'm chaos. I'm storm. I'm everything you're terrified to let in because you think I'll break you."
She swallowed, then whispered.
"But I already love you. And I'm still here."
---
Lucien was quiet.
His gaze dropped to Velra—still unconscious in his arms.
Then back to Kaela.
"I don't want to break you," he said.
"You can't," Kaela whispered. "But I will break anyone who touches you wrong again."
---
Elsewhere – Seris stood atop the prayer tower.
She watched the battlefield below.
She had healed fifty soldiers. Burned out most of her spirit magic. Lost her voice shouting orders—
But nothing hurt more than watching Kaela kiss him.
And watching Lucien kiss back.
She closed her eyes.
And whispered to the wind.
"…I was first. Why am I the one being forgotten?"
---
Midnight – Infirmary Hall
Velra lay alone in the moonlight.
But her breath had returned.
And her eyes…
Were open.
She stared at the ceiling, unmoving.
Then reached slowly under the mattress.
Her fingers closed around something:
A shard of obsidian—a relic from the Wraithcaller's heart.
She turned it in her hand.
It whispered in her mind.
"You know what must be done. He will never be yours until she is gone."
Velra's breath hitched.
And she said nothing.
---
Far North – Pale King's Realm
A phantom rider returned.
"My lord… Wraithcaller is gone."
The Pale King smirked.
"But he left the seed, didn't he?"
The rider nodded.
"In her. Yes."
The King raised a glass of shattered souls and toasted the blizzard.
"To Velra Noctis. My lovely daughter."
"Let her become the very thing he can't kill—or kiss."
---
"If you truly love him… would you dare become his ruin?"
---
A storm was coming.
Not outside.
Inside.
The palace walls had never been this silent—before blood is spilled.
---
Lucien stood in the northern tower, sword half-drawn, his thoughts fractured between three names:
Seris – his light in the dark. The one who saw the soul beneath the scars.
Kaela – his wildfire, unpredictable and untamed. The woman who burned for him.
Velra – his poison and passion. His forbidden craving. His nightmare in silk.
He couldn't choose.
So fate was going to choose for him.
---
Meanwhile – Seris stood barefoot in the sacred chamber.
Snow fell through the open skylight above her.
She stared at the sacred flame—and it flickered. Weak. Hurt.
Because she was.
"…You gave him your blessing," she whispered to the flame. "I gave him my heart."
And the flame said nothing.
But behind her, footsteps echoed.
Velra.
---
Seris turned sharply, magic crackling through her fingertips.
Velra's body still bore the curse-burns from the battle. But her eyes?
Not tired.
Empty.
She stepped forward slowly, her voice soft.
"I need to speak with you."
Seris narrowed her eyes. "Say one lie, and I'll bury you in frost."
Velra tilted her head.
"Do you love him?"
Seris didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Velra's eyes dimmed.
"…Then you're stronger than me."
---
Seris's magic flared, lighting her entire body in radiant glow.
"I was stronger. Until you came crawling into his bed."
Velra didn't move.
"I never meant to fall for him."
"But you did," Seris whispered. "And you'll break him."
Velra stepped forward. "Then kill me now. Before I do."
The air cracked.
Magic surged between them.
But Seris froze.
Because tears were falling from Velra's eyes.
"I don't want to be like my father," Velra choked. "But it's in me. I feel it… changing me."
Seris's voice cracked. "Then leave. Before it's too late."
---
But it already was.
The obsidian shard pulsed in Velra's pocket.
Darkness whispered.
Her hand trembled—
But she didn't draw it.
Not yet.
"I just wanted to be loved," Velra whispered.
Seris stared at her—then turned her back.
"So did I."
And walked away.
---
That night – Lucien's chamber
He sat alone again.
Until Kaela slipped in. Quiet. Still blood-streaked.
She didn't speak.
She simply walked up to him, pulled him from his chair, and kissed him again—like she didn't care if the world burned.
He didn't resist.
---
But outside the door… Velra stood.
Watching.
Her shadow long across the marble floor.
Eyes hollow.
---
She whispered something.
A name.
"Lucien…"
Then her fingers wrapped around the obsidian shard.
And her heart beat only once more.
---
A dark pulse tore through the palace.
The Queen rose from her throne in a panic.
Seris collapsed in the prayer hall.
And Lucien—
His lips froze against Kaela's.
He felt it.
Velra's magic.
Wild. Twisting. Corrupted.
---
Final Scene – Throne Room
Velra stood in the center of the court, black veins spidering across her arms, her eyes no longer violet—
But obsidian.
"Father…" she whispered, her voice echoing across realms.
"I'm ready now."
---
To Be Continued…