Chapter 44: Brothers and Betrayals

The deeper they rode into the forest, the more oppressive the air became. The dense canopy above filtered the sunlight into scattered patches, casting long shadows across the path. It was a fitting setting for a confrontation with Marcus—his dark motives shrouded in as much mystery as the forest itself.

Lucian could feel the tension in his men. They were skilled warriors, loyal to him and the clans, but even they were wary. Facing an old ally turned enemy was never easy, especially one as formidable as Marcus.

"We're nearing the valley," Lyra said, her voice steady despite the unease in her eyes. "If Marcus is planning something, this would be the perfect place for an ambush."

Dorian smirked, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "Let him try. I've been itching for a fight."

Lucian shot him a look. "We're not here for a battle unless we have no choice. Stay alert but hold back unless I give the order."

They reached the edge of a rocky clearing, where jagged cliffs rose on either side, forming a natural bottleneck. Lucian halted his horse and raised a hand, signaling the group to stop.

"He's here," Lucian murmured, scanning the cliffs above. His instincts had never failed him, and now they screamed that Marcus was close.

As if on cue, a figure stepped out from the shadows atop the cliffs. Marcus stood tall, cloaked in black, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He wasn't alone. Behind him, several warriors clad in dark armor emerged, their weapons gleaming ominously.

"Lucian," Marcus called out, his voice echoing across the valley. "I didn't expect you to come so soon. Desperation, perhaps?"

Lucian dismounted slowly, keeping his movements calm and deliberate. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on Marcus. "I'm here because I want answers. You spoke of lies, of betrayal. If there's any truth to your claims, then say it now."

Marcus's lips twisted into a cold smile. "Truth, Lucian? You wouldn't know it if it stared you in the face. The clans you lead, the peace you claim to protect—it's built on falsehoods. Secrets buried by those who came before us. I seek to uncover them and bring true order."

"And what does that order look like?" Lucian asked, his tone sharp. "A world where you rule through fear and chaos?"

"Fear, perhaps. Chaos, no," Marcus said, his voice calm yet laced with menace. "I seek control. Power. The clans have grown weak under your rule. You've made them complacent with your ideals of unity and peace. That's why I'm here—to tear down your illusion and build something stronger."

Lucian's expression remained stoic, but inside, he felt a flicker of sadness. This wasn't the Marcus he had once trusted. That man was long gone, replaced by someone driven by greed and a twisted sense of purpose.

"There's no need for war," Lucian said, his voice steady but firm. "We can end this without bloodshed. You once believed in the same vision I did—a future where our people could thrive without fear. We can still have that, Marcus."

Marcus laughed, a hollow sound that echoed off the cliffs. "You're as naïve as ever, Lucian. That vision died long ago. I'll give you one chance—surrender, and I might spare those loyal to you."

Dorian's hand tightened on his sword, but Lucian raised a hand, signaling him to hold back.

"You know I won't do that," Lucian said. "If you want a fight, you'll get one. But know this—I won't let you destroy everything we've built."

Marcus's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "So be it. But when this is over, you'll see that you were on the wrong side of history."

He raised his hand, and his warriors moved forward, weapons drawn.

Lucian turned to his men. "Defensive formation. No one attacks unless provoked."

The two sides faced each other, tension crackling in the air like a brewing storm. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of weapons being unsheathed and the steady breathing of the warriors.

Lyra stepped up beside Lucian, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade. "What now?" she whispered.

"We wait," Lucian said quietly. "If Marcus truly wants war, he'll strike first. Until then, we hold."

Marcus's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he watched them. He raised his hand again, and his warriors took another step forward. Lucian braced himself, ready for whatever was to come.

Suddenly, a loud horn echoed through the valley, followed by the sound of more footsteps approaching from the opposite side. Both sides turned in surprise as a third group of warriors appeared, clad in silver and blue armor—the crest of the forgotten northern tribe emblazoned on their banners.

Lucian's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't seen those banners in years, not since the northern tribe had disappeared into the mountains. What were they doing here now? And whose side were they on?

Marcus's expression darkened as he recognized the new arrivals. "What is this?" he snarled.

The leader of the northern tribe stepped forward, his silver hair gleaming in the dim light. He raised his hand, signaling his warriors to halt.

"Enough," the man said, his voice commanding yet calm. "There's been enough bloodshed among our people. I won't stand by and watch our clans tear each other apart."

Lucian's gaze hardened as he met the man's eyes. "Eryon. You've returned."

Eryon nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes, and I come with a message. This war ends now—or none of us will survive what's coming.