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The Immortal’s Vow The Whispering Dark
The plains stretched endlessly, beneath a pale and dull sky. The air was eerily still, as if the land itself was holding its breath. Far behind them, Emberfall was a distant memory, its warmth and safety now replaced by the vast, silent openness.Zarekth led the group, his steps purposeful but his silence heavier than usual. The sword of equilibrium rested on his back, his grip on its hilt tight. The muscles in his jaw flexed, a sure sign of unease.Lyra trailed close behind him, her gaze flickering to Zarekth’s rigid stance. His unease was contagious.Lyra’s hand unconsciously brushed against the quiver of arrows strapped to her back.Tharion froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. Something large moved in the corner of his vision, a ripple through the shadows of the grasslands. Slowly, he turned his head, and there it was—wolf-like, massive, and made of writhing darkness. Its crimson eyes burned like embers, locked on him. He blinked, his throat dry.The creature was gone.“Uh… guy
The Immortal’s Vow Ruins of Despair
The plains eventually gave way to a small village—or what was left of one. What had once been a thriving community, a vibrant setting of homes, lay transformed into nothing more than a scorched expanse of rubble and decay. Roofs bobbed like wilted flowers, doorway entrances gaped like dark mouths, and the ghost of charred wood mingled with the faint hint of lingering odorless smoke. Lyra gradually tempered her pace, her fingers coolly squeezing her bow instinctively as she took in the scene.“What… what happened here?” Her voice was soft, almost lost in the stillness.Tharion came up beside her, his expression unusually somber. “It just keeps getting worse,” he muttered, his usual humor absent.Viana moved ahead of them, her curved knives drawn. She walked cautiously, scanning the remains of the village. “Not even a soul left,” she said grimly, her tone carrying a weight that silenced them all.Zarekth paused at the edge of the ruins, his silver eyes focused on the devastation a
The Immortal’s Vow In The Quiet Hours
The night settled over the deserted village like a suffocating shroud, its silence almost as oppressive as the lingering destruction. Shadows danced on the crumbled walls as the faint glow of a makeshift fire flickered in the shelter. Viana, Tharion, and Lyra sat in a loose circle, their voices hushed but tense, as if afraid the ruins themselves might overhear their words.“People lived here,” Viana murmured, her gaze scanning the broken remnants of homes. Her voice carried a sadness that made the silence heavier.“Not anymore,” Tharion replied, leaning back against the wall. His tone was deep and heavy and sounded exhausted and a little hopeless, as if he had witnessed this kind of devastation countless times before.Lyra gazed into the flames, which reflected the confusion in her own head.She whispered, as if afraid of the sound, “Where are they?”Viana shook her head and waved her hands as if to say she didn't know."Who knows?" she replied.At that moment, the only noise was th
The Immortal’s Vow Lost in the Void
꧁༒☬𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮☬༒꧂In ancient times before mortals recorded the world in memory, the gods emerged from the primordial void. Born of creation’s first breath, they were more than beings—they were power incarnate, shaping the raw chaos of the Cosmos into form and purpose. Among the pantheon was Aureon, god of light and justice, whose radiance illuminated the heavens and brought order to the shapeless expanse.Yet, creation was not enough. The gods sought something fragile yet enduring, something to reflect their magnificence. From their divine will came the mortals, fragile beings bound by the chains of time, created to live, love, and perish.Thus was born Nerathia, a realm where the immortal and the mortal coexisted. Aureon and his kin bestowed gifts upon this fledgling world: light, wisdom, protection, and the inevitability of change. For a time, harmony prevailed. The gods watched their creation flourish, and mortals grew under their guidance.But where light prevails, shado
The Immortal’s Vow Before The Fall
꧁༒☬𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝔂☬༒꧂The hacking shrill, relentless frenzied alarm from Lyra's room pierced early morning silence as if fingernails were being dragged down a chalkboard. It filled the room with that unmistakable sound of dread as it woke her from the bottom of her sleep into unwanted consciousness. Groaning, she fumbled for the snooze button, blind to shed herself from the warmth cocooning her beneath the blankets. The soft embrace of her bed was holding her tightly and didn't want to let her go, luring her into stealing at least some minutes more of the valuable sleep.But reality had other plans. Today was the first day of her final year at Evervale University. The weight of the realization hit her hard. She felt terrible. Of course, Ivy wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if they were late for class.As if on cue, Ivy’s voice cut through the apartment, sharp with annoyance. “Lyra! We’re going to be late!”There was a gentle clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen and a ra
The Immortal’s Vow Echoes of Normalcy
The autumn chill wrapped itself around the Evervale campus, crisp and biting, as Lyra Donovan walked alongside her friends. Ivy’s laughter rang out in the cool air, echoing off the brick buildings that had stood the test of time. Though familiar, the atmosphere carried an energy, a charge, as if the start of their final year was heralding something new, something about to shift.Clusters of students buzzed around them, engaged in animated conversations about summer adventures or already lamenting the workload ahead. Skateboarders zipped by, expertly dodging a group of wide-eyed first-years who huddled together, trying to make sense of the campus map clenched in their hands.Lyra glanced sideways at Ivy and Harrison. Ivy’s arm was looped around his, her auburn hair bouncing with every step, while Harrison looked at her the way only someone madly in love could—like she was the center of his universe. They were that couple. The ones everyone admired, sometimes envied. High school sweethe
The Immortal’s Vow A History Unwritten
The hallway was gently buzzing with the low hum of talking students, soft thud of closed books, and footsteps echoing against the old tiled floor. There was something about this building, reeking with a feel of being from another era. Or, perhaps, the walls panelled in ancient wood, with dusty portraits lining every corridor of professors long forgotten, their eyes seeming so very stern, far away, and passing in silent judgment on the present.Ivy shivered, hugging her cardigan closer as she walked beside Lyra. "Ugh, I wish we could skip this class," she muttered. Ivy was worn out, and it showed in the lacing of tiredness within her voice. Surprisingly warm October weather outside hadn't stopped the chill of autumn from seeping into the building. "I'm already tired from the first class of the day. A nap sounds perfect right about now.”Rhett, striding ahead of them with his usual relaxed swagger, ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’re already here,” he pointed out, his tone resigned
The Immortal’s Vow Beyond the Warning Signs
The cafeteria was filled with the regular lunchtime excitement—students talking, trays being moved, and the smell of fatty French fries and suspicious pizza in the air. At the regular table, Lyra leaned into her chair, listening to Harrison going on about the history project with some of her attention while she looked around the busy cafeteria.The conversations around them blended into a dull hum, the world moving on blissfully unaware of the forty-percent history project looming over their heads.“Why couldn’t we have gone for something normal?” Lyra asked, interrupting Harrison’s passionate monologue about Nerathia’s forgotten gods. “You know, like Greek mythology? Zeus, Athena… all that Mount Olympus stuff. Everyone knows it, and we could probably churn out a paper on Zeus’ love life in our sleep.”Harrison’s eyes gleamed with that familiar light—the one he always got when he was about to dive into an explanation none of them had asked for. He rested his elbows on the table, his g
Latest Chapter
In The Quiet Hours
The night settled over the deserted village like a suffocating shroud, its silence almost as oppressive as the lingering destruction. Shadows danced on the crumbled walls as the faint glow of a makeshift fire flickered in the shelter. Viana, Tharion, and Lyra sat in a loose circle, their voices hushed but tense, as if afraid the ruins themselves might overhear their words.“People lived here,” Viana murmured, her gaze scanning the broken remnants of homes. Her voice carried a sadness that made the silence heavier.“Not anymore,” Tharion replied, leaning back against the wall. His tone was deep and heavy and sounded exhausted and a little hopeless, as if he had witnessed this kind of devastation countless times before.Lyra gazed into the flames, which reflected the confusion in her own head.She whispered, as if afraid of the sound, “Where are they?”Viana shook her head and waved her hands as if to say she didn't know."Who knows?" she replied.At that moment, the only noise was th
Ruins of Despair
The plains eventually gave way to a small village—or what was left of one. What had once been a thriving community, a vibrant setting of homes, lay transformed into nothing more than a scorched expanse of rubble and decay. Roofs bobbed like wilted flowers, doorway entrances gaped like dark mouths, and the ghost of charred wood mingled with the faint hint of lingering odorless smoke. Lyra gradually tempered her pace, her fingers coolly squeezing her bow instinctively as she took in the scene.“What… what happened here?” Her voice was soft, almost lost in the stillness.Tharion came up beside her, his expression unusually somber. “It just keeps getting worse,” he muttered, his usual humor absent.Viana moved ahead of them, her curved knives drawn. She walked cautiously, scanning the remains of the village. “Not even a soul left,” she said grimly, her tone carrying a weight that silenced them all.Zarekth paused at the edge of the ruins, his silver eyes focused on the devastation a
The Whispering Dark
The plains stretched endlessly, beneath a pale and dull sky. The air was eerily still, as if the land itself was holding its breath. Far behind them, Emberfall was a distant memory, its warmth and safety now replaced by the vast, silent openness.Zarekth led the group, his steps purposeful but his silence heavier than usual. The sword of equilibrium rested on his back, his grip on its hilt tight. The muscles in his jaw flexed, a sure sign of unease.Lyra trailed close behind him, her gaze flickering to Zarekth’s rigid stance. His unease was contagious.Lyra’s hand unconsciously brushed against the quiver of arrows strapped to her back.Tharion froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. Something large moved in the corner of his vision, a ripple through the shadows of the grasslands. Slowly, he turned his head, and there it was—wolf-like, massive, and made of writhing darkness. Its crimson eyes burned like embers, locked on him. He blinked, his throat dry.The creature was gone.“Uh… guy
Farewell to Emberfall
The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the city of flames in hues of gold and crimson. The embers of countless fires still smoldered from the night before, their heat lingering in the air as if Emberfall itself refused to let go of the celebration. Lyra stood at the edge of the central courtyard, the weight of her pack resting on her shoulders. Her eyes drifted across the scene—Viana adjusting the strap of her bag, Tharion muttering about his sword, and Zarekth standing tall, his presence as unshakable as the mountains beyond.The dwellers of Emberfall had gathered in clusters, their somber faces marked by both pride and farewell. Warriors lined up beside Ignir, their weapons glinting under the rising sun. Ignir stood at the forefront, a pillar of fire-forged strength, but it was Zarekth who naturally drew the eye. Even here, surrounded by flame and iron, Zarekth’s presence was unmatched, as if the dawn itself bent to acknowledge him.Ignir turned his head and s
Flames of Celebration
The city of Emberfall had transformed into a spectacle of light and shadow. As twilight deepened and bled into full night, flames roared to life in every corner of the city—pyres that reached for the skies, torches that lined every walkway, and bonfires that bathed the streets in gold and orange. Emberfall glowed like a city born of fire itself, and as the first notes of distant drums rang out, the celebration began.Lyra stood with Tharion and Viana at the edge of the central plaza, taking in the scene. The heat shimmered in the air, a visible wave that made the flames dance twice over, their golden glow mirrored across the stone streets. Long wooden tables groaned under the weight of feasts fit for warriors: roasted meats glistening with juices, steaming bowls of spiced stews, baskets of bread still hot from the oven, and mugs of firewine that caught the firelight like molten rubies.“Now this,” Tharion said, eyes gleaming as he surveyed the spread, “is the kind of celebration I
A Dance of Embers
The air in Emberfall carried a heat that clung to the skin, a heavy warmth that never truly dissipated. Flames burned endlessly in braziers scattered across the training grounds, illuminating the dark edges of the volcanic city. The crack of wooden swords clashing echoed in sharp, rhythmic bursts as Lyra, Viana, and Tharion sparred alongside Emberfall’s warriors.Lyra gripped the wooden hilt of her practice sword tightly, her muscles burning with effort as she parried the strikes of her opponent—one of Ignir’s people, tall and lean, with a sharpness to his movements that forced her to stay focused. She ducked under an arc, swung back, and caught him just barely in the ribs. The warrior stumbled back, grinning.“Nice,” he said, nodding at her with approval.Lyra stepped back, chest heaving. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fought so hard—or at all, for that matter. But something about this time, this place, demanded strength.A few feet away, the sound of a sharp thud t
The Path to Discovery
Above, the sky stretched vast and endless, littered with stars that gleamed like scattered fragments of shattered glass. Zarekth sat on a weathered stone, his silver eyes fixed on the heavens. He had been drawn here by the stillness, by the need to think without the noise of questions or expectations pressing down on him.The soft squeak of a creature in distress pulled his attention away from the sky. Turning, he saw it—a small, trembling thing, no bigger than his hand. Its body was slick with blood, one of its wings bent at an unnatural angle. It looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.Zarekth tilted his head, studying the creature in silence. Its pain seemed to echo within him, though he didn’t understand why. Once, he would have ignored it—dismissed its struggle as insignificant in the vastness of existence. Yet now, something stirred.He knelt, his movements slow and deliberate, and extended a hand toward the trembling creature. His fingers stopped above it for a mome
Umbravus: Echoes of Malice
The air grew colder as they stepped into the ancient ruins, the stone underfoot slick with moisture and shadow. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the canopy of dark trees, casting fractured beams across ancient stones worn by centuries of wind and time. A feeling of weight pressed upon them, as though the very air had become thick with forgotten whispers. These ruins were buried deep in the shadowed lands—remnants of an age that predated the gods’ imposition of order upon Nerathia, ancient relics abandoned and now claimed by darkness.Kaelen’s breath came slow and deliberate as he took another step forward, his shadow whip coiling behind him like a serpent eager to strike. His hand was steady, but his chest felt tight, as though the ruins themselves were alive, watching, judging.“You can feel it, can’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and sharp, an echo carried by the wind. His dark hair shifted as he turned his gaze toward the swirling, restless shadows that danced an
Whispers of Chaos
Thaloria was a forgotten city, its ancient stone walls and towering spires standing as a testament to the age of gods and power long past. The air was cold here, clinging to the shadows and the mist that twisted between the narrow cobblestone paths. Once, this had been the heart of order—the seat of Aureon’s dominion in Nerathia. Now, it felt abandoned, a hushed whisper of history.Vaeryn stood in the center of an opulent chamber, the pale light of distant stars glinting through stained glass windows depicting scenes of ancient gods and their victories. Her golden hair glimmered faintly as it cascaded like molten light over her slender shoulders. The air felt sharp, a faint breeze stirring the sheer, elegant folds of her robes—robes that shifted colors like liquid silver, reflecting the movement of the mist outside.She was beautiful. Exquisite, even. Ethereal and untouchable in a way that suggested divinity itself. But as her emerald eyes stared into the space before her, they
