Bloodline of Blades

The mountain wind howled between the crags, tugging at cloaks and banners. Dust swirled around Caelum and Lyria, as they faced the warrior standing in their path.

Caelum’s sister.

Lyrielle of the Ashen Vanguard.

Her silver hair was tied in a warrior’s braid, face carved from stone, her halberd resting against one shoulder like it weighed nothing. But the air around her trembled—a suffocating presence, a pressure that bent the very light.

Aura.

Not the kind found in legends. No, this was real. Feral. Refined through war, betrayal, and vengeance.

Caelum clenched his jaw. “You’re alive.”

She raised her chin. “Disappointed?”

Lyria stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “You said your sister died in the Obsidian War.”

“She did,” Caelum said quietly. “The girl I knew died there. What stands before us now… is someone else.”

Lyrielle’s voice was sharp as steel. “You betrayed the Realm, brother. Sided with the Forsworn. Abandoned your oath. I saw the pyres with my own eyes.”

“I did what I had to do,” Caelum replied. “And I would do it again.”

“So would I,” she said, her voice softening. “Even if it means killing you.”

With a twist of her hand, the ground beneath them cracked. Glyphs glowed in red beneath her boots, searing through the earth in a perfect circle.

Lyria drew her sword. “She’s activating a binding field—!”

Too late.

Chains of magic snapped up from the dirt, locking around Caelum’s legs, pulling him down.

Lyrielle charged.

The halberd came in a blur. Caelum ducked, rolled, his bindings breaking from a burst of raw power. He rose with one hand blazing in blue flame, the other forming a barrier around Lyria.

“She’s not holding back,” he growled.

“I didn’t think she would,” Lyria replied. “Can you beat her?”

A pause.

“Maybe.”

They clashed beneath the cliff arch.

Brother against sister.

Sparks rained from their blades. Halberd against sword, fists against flame. Every strike shook the mountain pass. Lyria tried to assist—only to be knocked back by a psychic pulse from Lyrielle’s armor.

“She’s marked by the High Order,” Caelum shouted. “Their sigil’s empowering her!”

Lyria wiped blood from her lip. “I noticed!”

Lyrielle launched a spinning strike that split the earth in a wave of energy. Caelum parried, countered, and leapt above her, delivering a flash-kick enhanced with his internal aura. It sent her skidding back—just inches—but her expression didn’t falter.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” she admitted.

“So have you.”

“I had to.”

She threw her halberd down. It hit the ground and detonated, releasing an explosion of radiant energy that blew Caelum across the cliffside. He slammed into stone, coughed blood—and rose again.

But not before Lyrielle stood over him, blade now drawn, its tip at his throat.

“This is mercy,” she whispered.

But her blade trembled.

Caelum’s hand moved slowly to his belt—grabbing the sigil Lyria had given him days ago.

“Do it,” he said. “But know this—if you kill me, the only person who ever knew the truth about the Obsidian War dies with me.”

She froze.

Lyria appeared behind her, sword drawn. “Back away.”

Lyrielle stared at her brother.

Then lowered the blade.

“You were always too good at playing games,” she muttered, stepping back.

“Not a game,” Caelum said. “I have a mission. One that you should be part of.”

Lyrielle’s eyes burned with uncertainty.

“...You were the only one who tried to stop the massacre,” she said. “I remember now. You screamed at the Generals. Tried to destroy the gate.”

Caelum nodded. “They blamed me. But the truth—the real truth—is buried. Help me dig it out.”

A long silence.

Then Lyrielle turned away. “I’ll give you one chance. Don’t waste it. There’s someone who might help you—an Oracle. Lives in the Twilight Dunes.”

She tossed Caelum a small orb, glowing with starfire.

“Show this to her. She’ll know you’re under my protection.”

And with that, Lyrielle vanished into the shadows.

The two continued their journey in silence for hours.

Lyria finally spoke. “That could’ve ended badly.”

“It still might,” Caelum said. “My sister… isn’t someone to be trusted. But she’s not beyond saving.”

They stopped at a riverside outpost. It was quiet, empty, save for a few broken lanterns and whispering wind. Lyria sat on the edge of a fallen statue, rubbing her temples.

“You okay?” Caelum asked.

She gave a tired smile. “I’m fine. Just… this war. These powers. You. Her. Everything’s spinning.”

He sat beside her. “It gets worse.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “You really know how to cheer a girl up.”

For a moment, she leaned into him.

Not as a warrior. But as someone who had been fighting for too long.

And Caelum didn’t pull away.

That night, they lit a fire and shared dried rations beneath the stars.

Lyria looked up. “You think we’ll live through this?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

She smiled. “Bold promise.”

Then she pointed up. “That constellation. See it?”

He followed her finger. A line of stars shaped like a blade through a heart.

“They call it the Lover’s Betrayal,” she whispered. “A legend says two souls were destined to fight forever, trapped by love and war.”

Caelum’s gaze lingered.

“That sounds familiar.”

Lyria chuckled softly. “Maybe we’re cursed, too.”

He didn’t laugh.

Because something in the distance had changed.

The stars were blinking.

One by one.

Lyria noticed. “What… what is that?”

Caelum stood. “That’s not natural. Something’s blocking the sky.”

And then it came.

A black storm. Silent. Rapid. Like a living shadow moving across the sky. Not clouds. Not magic.

A swarm.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of winged creatures, their eyes glowing red. Descending from the heavens like a plague.

Lyria’s face turned pale. “What the hell are those?”

Caelum’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Sky Reavers.”

And at their center—a figure cloaked in voidlight. Unseen. But felt.

A presence that dwarfed all before.

The true enemy.

Watching.

Waiting.