Chapter 17: The Price of Crowns.

The March to Varrek

The plains of Varrek stretched out for miles, a wasteland filled with scorched grassy patches and the long-forgotten bones of previously fallen animals. In the crimson light of a dying sun, Kaelen's freshly minted army marched, their banners torn at the edges but raised high nonetheless.

Strange were the sights of men who had hunted each other just months ago walking side by side, having existed as fireside friends within weeks. Clansmen who had been at each other's throats for centuries now shared the warmth of a flame. Formerly god-touched assassins now broke bread with mortal farmers.

Kaelen rode at the front as he had when they had first left Gandavin, the Ashen Crown gleaming dull and black upon his brow. Each mile they passed felt heavier than the last.

Lyra rode by his side, hair blowing in the wind, squinting against the horizon.

"They won't hold," Darren muttered as he pulled his horse beside them. "These men follow you for blood and revenge. You can't build a kingdom out of grief."

Kaelen's voice was low, "I don't mean to build a kingdom."

Darren raised an eyebrow, "Then what?"

"A sanctuary," Kaelen said slowly. "A sanctuary where no god speaks, no clan hunts, and no crown enslaves."

Darren snorted, "You'll be dead before you can raise walls."

"Maybe," Kaelen said. "But they will remember that someone tried.

The Fallen Oracle

As daylight faded, a figure lingered in the remains of an ancient watchtower.

Anethra - the pale-eyed oracle of the Ashen Keep.

She appeared untroubled by the war; her hair spun snow-white, like the wealth of the riverstone. Only her eyes revealed the storms raging inside.

"You shouldn't have come," Kaelen said, getting off his horse.

"I made an oath," Anethra said quietly. "And there is news you must hear."

Lyra eyed the oracle with caution as she inched closer. "Speak."

Anethra's eyes glimmered. "The Nameless King stirs. What you killed was nothing more than a shell, a puppet of the will of Aeris. The true King was bound beneath the roots of the grave. But now that Aeris has fallen, the prison grows weak."

Kaelen felt a shudder in his gut.

"There is more," she said, "the remnants of the gods are gathering. Those that served Aeris, those that escaped him, and those that hunger still."

She looked at Lyra.

"Your blood calls to them.

Betrayal in the Dark

Before Kaelen could utter a word, a scream echoed through the air.

A shadow crashed through the trees, steel flashing.

Darren tackled Kaelen aside just as a blade missed his throat by a breath.

Assassins. A handful.

Dressed in god-marked leathers, faces blanked, their swords slick with poison.

Kaelen rolled to his feet, sword drawn. Lyra was already moving, her blade a streak of starlight.

The brawl was vicious, fast, and silent.

Darren took a blade in his side but gutted his assailant.

Lyra was face-to-face with the twin assassins. She met them with fury; their steel was her own, their curses were nominal nonsense in old tongues.

Kaelen was squaring off against the largest, a brute with crimson sigils carved into his flesh.

Their swords crackled together, sparks dancing off blade and metal.

"You wear a crown unearned." The assassin spat. 

"I wear it because no one else would," Kaelen growled back.

He drove his sword through the assassin's chest. 

The dying man grinned as he died.

"The Pale God rises, kingling."

Then fell.

The Tainted Message

When the dust settled, five bodies lay broken. One escaped.

Lyra moved to Kaelen's side.

"We have to move. Now."

Anethra knelt beside one of the corpses, frowning. She reached into the assassin's cloak and withdrew a scroll.

Sealed with black wax. Marked with the symbol of the old god Aeris.

Kaelen took it, broke the seal, and read.

"To the Crownless King: your claim is ash. The old blood returns. Varrek will burn. The grave will open. The world will be ours once more."

There was no signature.

But Kaelen knew the writing.

His uncle.

Veren Veyne.

Dead these past ten years.

Or so he'd believed.

The Road Ahead

Night fell heavier after that.

The army moved fast, the fires were small, and the sentries were doubled.

Kaelen felt as though the war was not over.

It had just begun.

As he looked into the dark, Lyra came beside him.

"You can't face this alone."

"I won't," he said.

She took his hand.

"We fight. Together."

And far in the distance, lightning broke the horizon, burning the silver flame into the world..

The last war was coming.

And the dead would march again.