Nick_Stevenson

Varfaún is on the brink of war. The once great kingdom now rots under the rule of King Arrand Galborn, a tyrant whose hunger for power has twisted the land and its people. His armies march under a banner of blood, and in the blackened depths beneath his fortress, something far more sinister stirs.

Delwyn Aldsund was once Galborn’s sworn bodyguard, until she betrayed him. Sentenced to death, she awaited the executioner’s blade, only to be rescued at the last moment by a mysterious cloaked elf, Vaelor. Now hunted by the king’s elite ‘Black Hounds’, she flees across the fractured realm, burdened by questions without answers. Why did Vaelor save her? And what horrifying truth lies at the heart of Galborn’s growing power?

With the rebellion rising and dark forces creeping into the world, Delwyn and her unlikely allies must make a desperate journey to Ember Peaks, the last bastion of hope. But what awaits them is beyond anything she imagined, a hidden stronghold, a council of leaders who know more about her past than she does… and an ancient weapon of legend lies beneath the mountain.

The war for Varfaún has only begun.

DELWYN: Throne of Thorns

Midnight, The Ruined Rebellion Camp

The night stank of blood and smoke.

Delwyn crouched low behind a half-collapsed tent, the ruined camp stretching out before her. The Black Hounds patrolled lazily, confident their victory was complete.

She glanced at Vaelor, who knelt beside her, his gaze locked onto the supply tents stacked at the northern edge of the camp. The heart of the enemy's provisions.

"We light it up," Delwyn whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. "Then we cut the horses loose. Should keep them too busy pissing themselves to notice us leaving."

Vaelor's lips quirked. "Bold plan."

He sighed. "No. But I was hoping you'd surprise me with something sensible for once."

Delwyn rolled her shoulders, flexing her fingers. "Where's the fun in that?"

They moved like ghosts, slipping through the wreckage.

The supply tents loomed ahead, their canvas tops barely visible in the low firelight. Inside, faint voices carried—two guards stationed at the entrance.

Delwyn tapped Vaelor's arm twice. Two enemies.

Vaelor nodded, his expression unreadable. "I'll handle them. Try not to set yourself on fire while I'm busy."

Vaelor gave a long-suffering sigh before disappearing into the dark.

Then—a muffled choke. The soft thud of a body hitting the ground.

Vaelor reappeared, already wiping blood from his blade. "Get to work."

She slipped inside, her eyes scanning the stacked crates of rations, oil flasks, and weapons.

"Looks like they were planning to settle in," she muttered.

Vaelor knelt beside a barrel of black powder, dragging his dagger along the wooden top. "Not anymore."

She grabbed an oil flask, uncorking it with her teeth before tipping it over the crates of arrows and dried meat. Vaelor did the same, dousing the stolen supplies in thick, slick trails of fire waiting to happen.

Delwyn struck her flint against stone.

The first spark flared in the dark.

It spread fast, slithering up the oil-soaked wood, creeping across the canvas walls.

By the time they slipped out, the fire had begun to roar.

Vaelor flicked a glance at her. "You're enjoying this too much."

Delwyn smirked, adjusting her grip on her sword. "What, and you aren't?"

Vaelor didn't answer. But the corner of his mouth twitched.

They darted toward the makeshift corral, where at least a dozen warhorses were tied, their massive frames shifting uneasily as the fire grew.

"They're already spooked," Delwyn muttered, stepping toward a midnight-black stallion with wild eyes. "This'll be easy."

Vaelor was already slicing through the first set of reins. "If I get trampled, I'm haunting you."

She snorted, untying a rope. "You wouldn't be the first."

The first horse bolted the moment it was free, galloping into the night. Then another. And another.

By the time the last knot was cut, the entire corral was in chaos.

Horses screeched and kicked, stampeding through the camp. Delwyn watched with satisfaction as a guard was thrown into the dirt, barely rolling away before a hoof crushed his skull.

Delwyn grinned. "They're pulling apart faster than I thought."

Vaelor, watching the Black Hounds scramble, exhaled through his nose. "Messy. But effective."

Then—a new voice cut through the chaos.

At the edge of the burning camp, Commander Edric Vale stood tall, silhouetted by the flames.

His dark eyes locked onto hers, calculating.

The moment when chaos turned into war.

She smirked. Turned her back and headed into the forest.

Chapter 13 – A Trail of Ash & Hoofbeats