Chapter 16 – The Gathering Storm

The Gathering Storm

The monastery was no longer a sanctuary. Shadows stretched across the stone walls, whispering secrets Eleanor could almost understand. The weight of the dagger at her side was heavier than it should have been, as if it carried more than just steel—as if it carried fate itself.

She stood at the window, staring out at the storm brewing over the horizon. The sky, once clear, was now cloaked in dark clouds that twisted unnaturally. The air smelled of rain, but beneath it, there was something else. Something rotten.

Lucian was close.

Gabriel entered the chamber, his expression grim. "We don't have much time."

Eleanor turned, her fingers tightening around the edge of the windowsill. "How many of our people are ready?"

"Maria has gathered the resistance," Gabriel said. "They're waiting for your signal."

"And Victor?"

Gabriel hesitated. "He's sharpening his blade. He knows this won't be a clean fight."

Eleanor nodded, exhaling slowly. She knew Victor—he didn't trust her hesitation. And maybe he was right.

She had seen Lucian's past. She had seen the man before the monster. But none of that mattered now. If she didn't kill him, he would take everything.

The monastery bells tolled.

Eleanor's stomach clenched. The final battle had begun.

The Devourer's Arrival

The first sign was the wind. It howled through the monastery corridors, carrying whispers that did not belong to the living. The torches flickered, and the ground trembled beneath their feet.

Then—a scream.

Eleanor grabbed the dagger and ran toward the entrance.

Outside, the night had turned to chaos.

Lucian's followers—**the Marked Ones—**had arrived first. Their golden eyes gleamed in the darkness as they tore through the resistance fighters. Some moved like shadows, slipping through defenses, while others fought with a monstrous strength that shattered stone and bone alike.

Maria and her rebels fought back, but for every Marked One that fell, two more seemed to take their place.

Eleanor's pulse pounded. "Where is he?" she demanded.

Victor pointed toward the monastery gates.

Eleanor followed his gaze and felt her breath catch.

Lucian stood at the entrance, clad in black, his golden eyes burning like fire.

But he was different now. Darker. Stronger. The markings on his arms pulsed like molten gold, and the shadows around him seemed alive, curling at his feet like hungry beasts.

He met Eleanor's gaze and smiled.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said. His voice was smooth, but beneath it, there was something inhuman.

Eleanor gritted her teeth. "You need to be stopped."

Lucian sighed. "We've danced this dance before, haven't we?" He stepped forward, and with a flick of his wrist, the earth split apart, throwing soldiers into the air.

Gabriel raised his staff, chanting words of protection, but Lucian merely laughed. With a snap of his fingers, the old priest was sent crashing against the monastery walls.

Victor roared in fury, charging at him with his sword raised—but Lucian caught the blade with his bare hand. The metal hissed against his palm, as if burning, but he didn't flinch.

"You think steel can stop me?" Lucian whispered. Then he shattered the sword in two.

Victor staggered back, stunned.

Eleanor took her chance.

She lunged, the Blade of Judgment in her grip, aiming straight for Lucian's heart.

For a split second, his expression changed—surprise. Fear.

Then—he disappeared.

Eleanor stumbled forward, the dagger slicing through empty air.

Behind her, Lucian's voice whispered, "Not yet, little one."

A cold hand closed around her wrist.

Pain shot through her, burning from the inside out. Her mark—Lucian's mark—flared with light.

She gasped, falling to her knees as her mind was flooded with visions.

The Truth Beneath the Lies

She saw a throne of black stone, surrounded by flames.

She saw a chained figure, his wings torn, his face hidden in shadows.

She saw Lucian kneeling before that throne, his body trembling, his golden eyes filled with something she had never seen before.

Fear.

A voice, ancient and cruel, echoed through her mind.

"You were never meant to be free."

Eleanor gasped as the vision ended, her breath ragged.

Lucian stood over her, watching. For the first time, he wasn't smiling.

"You don't understand what you're doing," he murmured.

Eleanor pushed herself up, her hand tightening around the dagger. "Then make me understand."

Lucian hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then—a horn sounded in the distance.

His expression darkened. "Too late."

The sky above them cracked open.

And something far worse than Lucian began to descend.

To Be Continued…