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The Immortal’s Vow The Forgotten Ruin
They stood at the threshold of the ruin where fragments of what had once been a towering structure now lay in crumbled heaps, overtaken by wild shrubs and moss. The air was colder here, sharper, as if the ruin itself carried the chill of its ancient past. Lyra instinctively pulled her jacket tighter around her body, trying to fend off the cold that bit through to her bones.Rhett, standing next to her, seemed unaffected by the wind. At six feet three, he loomed tall against the darkening sky, his broad frame almost motionless despite the gusts. Harrison, looking somewhat impatient as he bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets. He surveyed the wreck excitedly, almost oblivious to the cold breeze that was blowing around.“Where’s the crew?” Lyra’s voice barely carried over the wind.Harrison shrugged, his gaze fixed on the ominous stone structure ahead. “Packed up for the night, probably,” he replied. “Not like they’re expecting company out here anyway.”R
The Immortal’s Vow The Unseen Watcher
Every step seemed an intrusion, as if they were treading a sacred floor that had not seen living souls in centuries. Lyra's boots crunched over the gravel-strewn floor, every sound sharp, far too loud against the eerie stillness of the ancient ruin. She stuck close to Ivy and Rhett, taking comfort in the nearness of the others, yet the weight of the ruin bore down upon her. It was as though the air had thickened with the history of the place, clinging to her skin and seeping into her lungs with every breath.Harrison led the way, practically buzzing with excitement. He moved with a reckless energy, the same kind that had gotten them into countless risky situations before. His flashlight beam cut through the darkness ahead, momentarily distracting Lyra from the oppressive weight of the place. But only for a moment.“Anything yet?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence that had settled over the group like a suffocating fog.Harrison turned, his grin flashing in the dim light
The Immortal’s Vow The Watcher in the Ruins
An unbearable iciness stood heavy in the atmosphere around the group who were petrified in front of the monumental figure of Zarekth, shrouded in all directions. The sculpture remained dilapidated but there was a strong feeling, a force, which made the very ground and the rocks they stood and walked in vibrate with the ancient eldritch energy that had long been erased from time. Lyra found it rather hard to ignore how it was working its way towards her epicenter, an irksome oscillation that brought all kinds of creeps to the back of her neck.Harrison shone his flashlight on the inscription carved into the pedestal of the statue. He wore a frown as if concentrating hard on something. His fingers ran over the other symbols as if trying to make sense of the hundreds of years that lay in the past. The first mechanism in his breath spoke about hope inside which a strange excitement girth had wrapped around it. Generally, it looked like that of a person who became an area in which people
The Immortal’s Vow Fury of the Forgotten
Rain lashed down in relentless waves, drenching them all as they fought their way through the ruins. Lyra's clothes were slick on her; her skin prickled with the cold as the storm strengthened. Each raindrop seemed to be a needle, sharp and unyielding, piercing her skin. The wind whipped through the crumbling stone structures, howling between the ancient columns and shattered walls. The noise was something that resonated not just in the ethers, but the very ground, sending vibrations down to the rocks around them, as if something underground was moving back and forth uneasily, waiting. Rhett was leading the way, water dripping from his hair which was sticking to his forehead, and was narrowing his eyes against the rain. “I can't see a damn thing!” he voiced out, annoyance beginning to show in his tone. He turned back to look at Lyra and shook his head. "This is insane! I never signed up for this."Lyra found herself struggling to keep up, her boots sinking into the mud on every st
The Immortal’s Vow Echoes of Chaos
Lyra groggily awoke, her voice muffled by a crushing weight compressing her chest. Eyelids flailed open against the encroaching shadows, pierced by thin slivers of light. All was a blur—a diffused haze of shapeless something and indistinct shadows that seemed to twist about her vision. She blinked, fighting for clarity, and yet her body felt impossibly heavy, as if iron weights had been tied to her limbs.She took a sudden, sharp breath in, clenching her teeth, and heaved herself upright. Pain exploded through her muscles like fire, sharp stabs radiating from every inch of her body. She winced, bit back a curse, forcing herself to sit. Her breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps, and she glanced around, disoriented. One question plagued her mind, insistent, chilling.Where am I?It struck her like a thousand-pound weight, expelling the breath from her chest.Her friends were gone. Panic clawed up her throat as she yelled hoarsely and desperately, "Ivy? Rhett? Harrison?"The greeting s
The Immortal’s Vow Breaking the Seal
There was a striking attraction that pulled her towards the tomb, and it was similar to how a moth would be drawn to a flame. Every single one of Lyra's instincts screamed at her to back away, but she turned her mind off and her feet began to move, taking her into the dark. The closer she got to the stone structure, the more she could feel something like a current vibrating in her body, as if it were beating in time with her heart. It was getting heavier, the dark of the night settling in, yet something in her gut—something old and primal—pushed her on.The tomb loomed before her, its presence overwhelming. Its massive stone surface seemed to breathe with life. The carvings etched into it appeared to move in the dim light, as though frozen in time, waiting for someone like her to release their secrets. Lyra hesitated, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the worn stone. The rough surface felt ancient, pulsating beneath her fingertips, as if it held a life of its own.What lay
The Immortal’s Vow Awakening the Tempest
The moment Zarekth returned to the world, it became immediately clear that this was no ordinary event. He wasn’t just any being—he was a god, stirring from a sleep of a thousand years. Laying eyes on him for the first time was a shock to Lyra’s system. Towering at six feet eight inches, he made her feel minuscule, insignificant even, at her five-foot-seven frame. Standing next to him was akin to standing beside a force of nature, rather than flesh and blood. The darkness seemed to churn around him, enhancing his imposing presence, a reminder that she was now in the presence of a god.Muscles adorned every single part of him, and he emanated strength from his core. His silver hair fell over his hefty shoulders, framing a face that was stunning yet frightening simultaneously. His lobes were pierced and he sported ear-rings. Thick, dark brows shadowed sharp, sculpted features that seemed almost too perfect, as though the gods themselves had chiseled him from marble. Even in the dim lig
The Immortal’s Vow Torn Between Worlds
Zarekth’s gaze was unwavering, cold and detached as Lyra’s words hung in the air. The weight of his skepticism pressed down on her, making her feel as though the very concept of friendship was somehow trivial, unworthy of his understanding. His expression remained impassive, and for a brief moment, Lyra felt the sting of his indifference.“Your friends?” he echoed, his voice laced with disdain, as if the idea was beneath him.Lyra’s frustration surged. She stood straighter, trying to push back against the god’s towering presence. “Yes, my friends,” she repeated, sharper now, anger flaring in her chest. “We were exploring some ancient ruins for a history project. None of us were trying to summon gods or meddle with forces we didn’t understand. We were just—” She hesitated as the memory of the storm returned to her mind ever so vividly. "A storm occurred," she managed to say, although the peg of her voice quivered as that image played out in her mind.“The ruins started collapsing. D
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
