Chapter 6;- The Black Blade

The weight of the book in Rhaegar's hands was nothing compared to the weight of the names carved within its pages. Lucian Damaris. Theodric Vance. King Aldric Solmere.

The architects of his downfall.

The betrayers who still sat upon their thrones of lies while the world forgot his name.

But they would not forget for much longer.

Rhaegar closed the tome, sliding it into the folds of his cloak. The archives around him were silent—ancient knowledge sealed away beneath layers of stone, meant to remain untouched by time.

But he had never been meant to return.

And now, he would take back everything.

He turned from the shelves, stepping over the bodies of the slain guards as he exited the chamber. The corridors of the underground vaults twisted and turned like a labyrinth, but he knew the way. He had walked these halls before.

And in the heart of the archives, hidden in a vault that only the royal family was permitted to enter, lay something that had been stolen from him long ago.

His sword.

The chamber was sealed by ancient magic, a barrier woven from divine runes and protective wards. Any ordinary man who approached would be burned to ash before he could take a single step inside.

But Rhaegar was no ordinary man.

He reached out a hand, his fingers barely brushing against the glowing symbols that swirled in the air before him. He could feel the power crackling, resisting him, trying to deny his existence.

But there was something greater than magic itself.

Vengeance.

And vengeance had reforged him into something beyond death.

Dark energy surged from his palm, tendrils of shadow writhing against the barrier, consuming the divine light in a suffocating embrace. The runes flickered, resisting, but Rhaegar only smiled.

This magic was meant to keep out men.

But he was something far worse than a man now.

The last light of the ward shattered. The chamber doors creaked open.

Inside, the room was empty—save for a single pedestal, draped in black cloth.

And atop it, resting like a relic of a forgotten era, lay the blade that had once carved his legend into history.

The Black Blade.

Forged in the heart of the Abyss, tempered in the blood of fallen kings, it was a weapon that had no equal. The edge gleamed in the dim torchlight, its surface as dark as the void. It was said that no light could reflect upon its surface, for it had been bathed in shadows deeper than night itself.

Rhaegar stepped forward, his breath slow, measured. He reached out—and the moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the world itself seemed to shudder.

Power surged through him, flooding his veins like liquid fire.

Memories clawed at his mind—battles long fought, wars won and lost, the sound of steel meeting flesh, the cries of the dying.

The sword remembered him.

It had been taken from him when he was cast into the abyss, sealed away so that none could wield its power again. The council had feared it, just as they had feared him.

And now, it was his once more.

The darkness of the blade seeped into his grip, merging with the energy already coursing through his body. It was as if the weapon had been waiting for him, hungry for his return.

He lifted it from the pedestal, the weight feeling perfectly balanced in his grasp. The air around him seemed heavier, the shadows deeper, as if the sword itself had awakened from slumber.

A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips.

With this, his path to vengeance was clear.

The first betrayer had fallen.

The rest would follow.

And by the time he was finished, the world would remember the name Rhaegar Crowne.

Rhaegar ran his fingers along the blade's edge, feeling the cold steel hum beneath his touch. It recognized him. The power within it pulsed like a second heartbeat, resonating with the darkness that now dwelled in his very soul.

A voice echoed from behind him.

"So it's true."

Rhaegar didn't turn immediately. He knew who stood there before the man even spoke again.

"Rhaegar Crowne. The dead man walks."

Slowly, he turned his head.

Leaning against the chamber's entrance, arms crossed over his armored chest, stood Lucian Damaris. The General of the Royal Guard. The man who had once fought at Rhaegar's side, who had sworn loyalty—only to cast the first stone in his downfall.

Rhaegar's grip on the Black Blade tightened.

"Lucian," he said, his voice calm, but laced with something dangerous.

Lucian exhaled, pushing off the stone wall and taking a step forward. The torchlight flickered over his sharp features, his steel-gray eyes studying Rhaegar carefully, as if confirming the truth with his own eyes.

"They swore you were dead," Lucian muttered, shaking his head. "Executed. Burned to ash. And yet, here you stand."

Rhaegar tilted his head. "Disappointed?"

Lucian smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "More… curious. I saw you die, Rhaegar. I was there when they dragged you to the pyre. And yet…" He gestured toward the blade in Rhaegar's hands. "You look remarkably well for a corpse."

Rhaegar let the silence stretch between them. Then, in a low voice, he said, "You were there."

Lucian's smirk faltered. "I was."

"And yet, you did nothing."

The air grew heavy.

Lucian's jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. "It was not my place to interfere."

"Not your place?" Rhaegar repeated, taking a slow step forward. "We fought together for years, bled together on the battlefield. You swore loyalty to me, and yet when the council branded me a traitor, you stood aside and watched."

Lucian held his gaze, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

"You know how things work, Rhaegar," he said quietly. "The council speaks, and we obey."

Rhaegar laughed. A sharp, bitter sound. "Obey?" He lifted the blade, its blackened steel reflecting none of the light. "You don't seem to be obeying now. So tell me, General—why are you here?"

Lucian sighed. "Because I knew you'd come back."

Silence.

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes. "Knew? Or hoped?"

Lucian's gaze flickered downward—just for a second. It was brief, barely noticeable. But Rhaegar saw it.

"You hesitated," Rhaegar murmured, tilting his head.

Lucian didn't answer.

"You had the power to stop my execution," Rhaegar continued, stepping closer. "You could've challenged the council's decision. You could've stood at my side, fought for the truth." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But you didn't."

Lucian exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You think it was that simple?" He scoffed. "If I had spoken against the council, they would've branded me a traitor too. I would've been executed alongside you."

Rhaegar studied him. The weight of those words hung in the air, unspoken yet deafening.

He feared death.

That was why he had done nothing.

That was why he had let them burn Rhaegar alive.

Cowardice.

Rhaegar chuckled softly. "So you chose survival."

Lucian clenched his fists. "I did what I had to."

"And now?" Rhaegar asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now that I've returned?"

Lucian's expression shifted. His gaze flickered to the Black Blade—then back to Rhaegar. "That depends," he said slowly.

"On?"

"On whether you still consider me an enemy."

Rhaegar was silent for a long moment.

Then, he smirked.

"Lucian," he murmured. "If I considered you an enemy, you'd be dead already."

Lucian let out a breath, something unspoken passing between them.

"But," Rhaegar continued, "you are not forgiven. You will never be forgiven."

Lucian met his gaze. "I never asked for forgiveness."

Rhaegar nodded slowly. "Good. Because you won't get it." He sheathed the Black Blade at his side and turned toward the exit.

"The others?" Lucian asked after a moment.

Rhaegar paused. "What about them?"

"What will you do when you find them?"

Rhaegar glanced over his shoulder, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

"What do you think?"

Lucian watched as Rhaegar turned toward the exit, his steps slow but deliberate. There was a finality in the way he moved, as if the conversation had ended, as if the decision had already been made.

But something inside Lucian twisted.

"Rhaegar."

Rhaegar halted but did not turn.

Lucian inhaled sharply. It was now or never.

"I was wrong."

The words rang through the chamber like a blade against steel.

Slowly, Rhaegar turned back, his expression unreadable. The flickering torchlight cast deep shadows across his face, accentuating the sharpness of his features, the coldness in his gaze.

Lucian swallowed. His throat was dry, but he forced himself to continue.

"I should have fought for you," he admitted, his voice quieter now, but steady. "I should have stood by your side, consequences be damned. I—" he exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. "I was afraid, Rhaegar. Not just of dying. But of losing everything."

Rhaegar's gaze remained impassive.

Lucian forced himself to hold it. He had spent years convincing himself that he had done what was necessary. That there had been no choice.

But that was a lie.

"You were my brother," Lucian said, his voice thick with something raw. "And I abandoned you."

Rhaegar didn't speak.

Lucian took a step forward. "I have regretted it every day since."

Still, Rhaegar said nothing.

The silence stretched between them, heavier than before.

Then—

"Prove it."

Lucian blinked.

Rhaegar unsheathed the Black Blade.

"What?" Lucian breathed.

"If you mean what you say," Rhaegar said, rolling his shoulders, his darkened aura bleeding into the air, "then fight me."

Lucian tensed. "Rhaegar—"

"Draw your sword."

Lucian hesitated, but the look in Rhaegar's eyes left no room for argument.

He unsheathed his blade.

"If you want my forgiveness," Rhaegar murmured, "you'll have to earn it."

The moment Lucian's sword left its scabbard, Rhaegar struck.

Fast. Ruthless. Unrelenting.

Lucian barely had time to block before the force of the blow sent him skidding back. Sparks flew as steel met steel, and the very air around them crackled with tension.

Rhaegar was not holding back.

Lucian gritted his teeth, tightening his grip as Rhaegar came at him again—a whirlwind of black steel and raw vengeance.

Each strike was meant to kill. Each movement was calculated, precise.

Lucian had always known Rhaegar was strong. But this—this was beyond anything he had ever seen.

"You've changed," Lucian muttered, parrying another brutal slash.

Rhaegar smirked, dark and merciless. "You have no idea."

He pivoted, bringing his blade down in a lethal arc. Lucian barely dodged, feeling the air split beside him. He retaliated—quick, sharp jabs aimed at Rhaegar's exposed flank.

But Rhaegar dodged with inhuman speed.

Lucian's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

This was not the same man he had fought beside years ago.

This was something else entirely.

And yet—Lucian refused to fall.

He matched Rhaegar's pace, blade clashing against blade. He would not surrender. He would not let this fight end without proving himself.

"Do you think a fight will change what happened?" Lucian gritted out between breaths.

Rhaegar's eyes burned. "No." He twisted his wrist—his blade knocking Lucian's aside, sending him stumbling back. "But I want to see if you'll break as easily as you did back then."

Lucian growled, planting his feet. "Not this time."

He lunged.

The two clashed again, a storm of steel and fury.

The fight raged through the chamber—two warriors, two former brothers, locked in battle not just of swords but of fate itself.

Lucian fought with everything he had. But he knew—Rhaegar was stronger.

And soon—

Rhaegar disarmed him.

Lucian's sword flew from his grasp, clattering against the stone floor.

And in an instant—Rhaegar's blade was at his throat.

Lucian panted, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping down his temple. He was unarmed. Vulnerable.

But he did not flinch.

He met Rhaegar's gaze, ready for whatever came next.

The blade pressed against his skin, cold as death.

A long, heavy silence.

Then—

Rhaegar pulled the sword away.

Lucian exhaled sharply, not out of relief, but understanding.

"You didn't hesitate this time," Rhaegar murmured, sheathing his sword.

Lucian wiped the sweat from his brow. "I told you." He met Rhaegar's gaze. "Not this time."

A beat of silence passed.

Then, for the first time, Rhaegar's expression softened.

It was not forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was something.

"We leave for Veldrith at dawn," Rhaegar said.

Lucian nodded. "Then I'm coming with you."

The journey to Veldrith was supposed to be a quiet, calculated infiltration.

It was not.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Lucian asked, eyeing the ominous, fog-covered valley ahead.

Rhaegar didn't even spare him a glance. "No."

Lucian sighed. "Fantastic. Amazing. Truly, you've outdone yourself. I just love blindly walking into unknown territory with an ex-murder victim who's now part god."

Rhaegar finally turned to him, unimpressed. "If you're going to whine the entire way, I can leave you tied to a tree."

"Oh no, how will I ever survive without your glowing personality?" Lucian deadpanned.

Rhaegar raised a brow. "I don't think you understand, Lucian. I wasn't asking."

Lucian blinked. Then he laughed, shaking his head. The audacity of this man.

"You really haven't changed, have you?" he muttered, crossing his arms. "Still a brooding, violent little—"

Rhaegar unsheathed his sword halfway.

Lucian held up his hands. "Alright, alright, I'll stop." He coughed. "For now."

Rhaegar sighed. This was going to be a long journey.

Several hours later, they reached the outskirts of Veldrith.

The city had changed—taller walls, more guards, a polished, arrogant grandeur that hadn't existed before.

Lucian whistled, leaning against a rock. "Well. This is definitely an upgrade from the rotting ruins they left behind."

Rhaegar's gaze darkened.

Lucian studied him for a moment, then nudged his shoulder. "Don't give me that 'brooding demon king' look. We've got work to do."

Rhaegar exhaled slowly. "We need a plan."

Lucian grinned. "Oh, we have one."

Rhaegar eyed him suspiciously. "We do?"

Lucian gestured vaguely at the massive city gates. "Of course. The plan is simple: we walk in, look important, and if anyone asks, we belong there."

Rhaegar just stared at him.

Lucian clapped his hands. "Great, glad we agree. Let's go."

He took one step toward the city—

And Rhaegar grabbed him by the back of his collar, yanking him back like a misbehaving dog.

"Ow—Rhaegar!"

"That is not a plan," Rhaegar said flatly.

"It is if you have confidence," Lucian shot back.

Rhaegar massaged his temple. This was exactly why he had tried to kill Lucian earlier.

"Fine," Rhaegar said, his voice laced with exasperation. "We'll do it your way. But if you get us caught—"

Lucian beamed. "I'll take full responsibility."

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes. "No, I'll take your head."

Lucian patted his shoulder. "Same thing."

Five minutes into the plan, and it was already going terribly.

Lucian strutted into the city like he owned the place. Rhaegar followed behind, exuding the aura of someone ready to commit homicide.

"See?" Lucian whispered. "We're blending in perfectly."

A guard squinted at them. "You two look suspicious."

Lucian scoffed. "Us? Suspicious? Sir, I'll have you know we are highly respected members of—" He paused. "Uh. The King's Elite."

Rhaegar turned his head slowly, giving him a look that screamed, 'I will kill you.'

The guard frowned. "The King's Elite? Never heard of you."

Lucian gasped dramatically. "Unbelievable. We risk our lives every day for this kingdom, and this is the respect we get? Rhaegar, remind me to send a complaint to the council."

Rhaegar, without missing a beat, nodded. "Absolutely. We'll have their heads by tomorrow."

The guard paled slightly.

Lucian smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have important matters to attend to. Top-secret business. You wouldn't understand."

The guard hesitated. Then, with a nervous gulp, he stepped aside.

Lucian gave Rhaegar a smug look as they walked past. "Told you it would work."

Rhaegar didn't respond.

He just tripped Lucian, sending him face-first into the dirt.

Lucian groaned. "I deserved that."

"Yes," Rhaegar said, stepping over him. "You did."

"Hey, wait for me, mf!" Lucian cursed, scrambling to his feet and brushing dirt off his clothes.

Rhaegar didn't even turn around. "Maybe if you spent less time running your mouth, you wouldn't be eating dirt right now."

Lucian caught up, glaring at him. "I swear, one day, I'm going to put poison in your tea."

Rhaegar raised a brow. "You think I drink tea?"

Lucian scowled. "Fine. Poison in your damn soup, then."

Rhaegar smirked. "Joke's on you. I don't eat soup."

Lucian gasped dramatically. "What kind of monster doesn't eat soup?"

"The kind that doesn't get poisoned by idiots like you."

Lucian threw up his hands. "Unbelievable. You come back from the dead with godly strength, and somehow, you're even more unbearable than before."

Rhaegar shrugged. "I strive for excellence."

Lucian muttered a string of curses under his breath before sighing. "Alright, genius. Since you clearly know everything, what's the next step?"

Rhaegar scanned the towering fortress ahead, his sharp gaze lingering on the banners that flaunted Sebastian's rule like a taunt.

"We find him," Rhaegar said, his voice low, edged with something lethal. "And we make sure he remembers exactly what he did."

Lucian cracked his knuckles. "Oh, I am so ready for this."

"Good." Rhaegar's grip tightened on his sword. "Because this time, I'm not the one falling."

Lucian exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, alright. So, how exactly are we getting into that fortress? Because something tells me they're not gonna just let us waltz in like last time."

Rhaegar's gaze remained fixed on the structure. "We kill the guards, take their armor, and walk in."

Lucian blinked. "You do realize that's the most cliché plan ever, right?"

"And yet it works."

Lucian sighed. "Fine. But if I get stuck wearing something that smells like a sweaty corpse, I'm blaming you."

Rhaegar smirked. "If you complain one more time, I'll make you wear the bloodstained one."

Lucian groaned. "You're actually the worst."

They moved quickly, sticking to the shadows. The guards outside the fortress were nothing special—armed, armored, but unprepared for monsters like them.

Rhaegar struck first, his blade slicing clean through the first guard's throat before he even had time to react. Lucian followed, quick and efficient, running his dagger through the ribs of another.

The third guard barely had time to scream before Rhaegar grabbed him by the face and slammed him into the wall.

Lucian winced. "Overkill much?"

Rhaegar didn't answer. He was already pulling off the dead man's armor.

Lucian sighed and started stripping another guard. "Y'know, this is the least fun I've ever had taking off someone's clothes."

Rhaegar shot him a blank look. "Shut up and change."

Lucian grinned. "You could at least buy me dinner first."

Rhaegar tossed a bloodied glove at his face. "Hurry up before I kill you too."

Lucian chuckled but didn't argue. Minutes later, they were fully disguised.

As they approached the fortress gates, a guard on the wall shouted down, "State your business!"

Lucian nudged Rhaegar. "Go on, scary leader. Make something up."

Rhaegar didn't even hesitate. "New transfers. Sent by Commander Darius."

The guard squinted. "Darius? I didn't hear about any transfers."

Lucian groaned dramatically. "Oh for f— Look, do you think Darius personally reports to every single guard? We're on orders. Unless you wanna be the one to explain to him why you delayed us."

The guard hesitated. Then, after a moment, he muttered a curse and waved them through.

Lucian smirked as they walked inside. "See? Confidence."

Rhaegar glanced at him. "Shame I still can't kill you."

Lucian grinned. "You'd be bored without me."

Sebastian strutted through the grand corridors of his fortress, his robe flowing dramatically behind him like he was the greatest king to ever live.

He wasn't.

Lucian immediately snorted. "Look at this mf. Walking like he just won the gods' lottery."

Rhaegar's gaze darkened as he watched the man who had orchestrated his betrayal—who had left him for dead, who now walked these halls like he owned the world.

Lucian nudged him. "You good? You look like you're about to stab him through the back right now."

"I am considering it."

Sebastian, blissfully unaware of his impending doom, stopped in front of a large window, gazing outside with a self-important expression.

"The kingdom thrives under my rule," he mused aloud to no one in particular.

Lucian blinked. "Bro. Did he just—who even talks like that? Ain't nobody listening to him."

Sebastian continued, completely oblivious. "They said I couldn't do it. That I would never be king. And yet, here I stand, greater than ever!"

Rhaegar's fingers twitched over the hilt of his sword. "He's really just giving me time to kill him, isn't he?"

Lucian smirked. "Might as well let him finish his monologue first. Y'know, so he dies knowing how ridiculous he sounds."

Sebastian turned slightly, a smug smile on his face. "Even the gods must acknowledge my power."

Rhaegar and Lucian exchanged a look.

"I can't listen to this anymore," Rhaegar muttered, stepping forward. "His stupidity is an insult to existence itself."

Lucian clapped him on the shoulder. "Go get 'im, buddy."