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

Inside the Ruins of Eldermire

The torches snuffed out all at once, plunging the far end of the ruined hall into deep shadow.

Delwyn's hand went straight to her sword, blade half-drawn before she even registered why. The shift in the air, the way the cold suddenly felt heavier—this wasn't natural.

She felt Vaelor tense beside her. Not in fear. In calculation.

Mira took a slow step back, her hand tightening around the stolen sword Delwyn had given her. "Tell me that was the wind."

Delwyn's pulse thrummed in her ears. "If it was, we've got bigger problems."

Like something shifting just beyond the light.

Delwyn scanned the hall. No footprints. No obvious movement. But she could feel it. The weight of something watching.

She exhaled slowly. "We're checking it out."

Mira muttered a curse. "Of course we are."

Vaelor didn't argue. He simply drew his dagger.

The further they moved, the heavier the air became.

Delwyn adjusted her grip on her sword, boots whispering against the stone.

Vaelor moved ahead, barely making a sound. He paused at the first carved archway, running a hand along the ancient stone. The symbols were deeper here.

Delwyn slowed beside him. "These weren't just walls," Vaelor murmured. "This was a temple."

Instead, he pressed his palm against the wall. Something pulsed beneath the stone.

Vaelor's gaze darkened. "I don't think we want to find out."

Delwyn didn't like that. She stepped forward, scanning the next chamber.

They were old. Skeletal. Long-forgotten.

A dozen corpses, scattered across the stone floor, their armour rusted, their weapons broken.

"Well," Delwyn muttered. "That's comforting."

"—Blackreach soldiers," Vaelor finished grimly.

Delwyn crouched beside one of the fallen. The bones were old, brittle, but the armour? The emblem on the chest plate?

The King's Guard – Battle Hounds.

She exhaled slowly. "Galborns men have been here before."

Vaelor studied the remains. "And none of them made it out alive."

A bad feeling settled in Delwyn's gut.

Mira shifted beside her. "Maybe we should turn back."

Delwyn nodded toward the largest doorway ahead, framed by two massive, carved stone pillars. The arch was covered in more sigils, more markings—but this time, they looked fresh. New.

She set her jaw. "We're not leaving until we know what Galborn is hiding."

Vaelor glanced at her. Something unreadable flickered across his face.

Then, he sighed. "Of course we're not…"

And together, they pressed forward.

Chapter 16 – Into the Dark