The night had barely faded when Arin opened his eyes.
Crimson light flickered gently across his skin. Lyra lay beside him, her head nestled in the crook of his arm. She stirred slightly, her breath steady and calm. Even in sleep, she radiated purpose—a quiet storm hidden beneath silk and secrets.
But Arin felt it.
A disturbance in the threads of fate.
He slipped out of bed, draped a cloak over his shoulders, and stepped onto the high balcony. Below, the castle slept—but far beyond, in the dead forest near the borders of the forgotten lands, something ancient had awakened.
He wasn't alone for long.
Freya appeared behind him, a sheer silver robe barely covering her. Her bare feet made no sound as she walked up and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
"You felt it too," she murmured, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.
"Something old," Arin said, his voice low. "And angry."
Celestia joined them, dressed in golden threads that shimmered in the wind. "It's called the Whispering Blade. A cursed sword buried in the ruins of El'Tharion."
"And now someone has unearthed it," Seraphina added, stepping from the shadows with Lilith at her side.
Evelyn, yawning as she walked in with a teacup, muttered, "Can we at least get breakfast before chasing haunted swords?"
Before Arin could answer, Lyra appeared—already dressed in ceremonial red.
"It's worse than you think," she said. "The Blade is not just a weapon. It is a key… forged by the gods to lock away something far darker. And now, it's in the hands of a woman who calls herself the Void Queen."
Freya tensed. "That name hasn't been heard for centuries."
Celestia clenched her fists. "If she awakens what's sealed beyond the Shattered Gate…"
Lyra stepped toward Arin and knelt. "You'll need all of us. And more."
Just then, a sudden surge of divine aura enveloped the room. A portal opened behind Lyra, revealing a woman stepping through—dressed in robes of midnight, eyes gleaming with starlight, and a long spear strapped across her back.
She had horns.
Not demonic—but celestial.
"Arin," she said softly, her voice echoing like a lullaby and a warning. "I am Astra. Daughter of the Void Queen… and your final wife."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Arin met her gaze. He felt no malice. Just sadness… and love that hadn't yet been written.
Later that night, beneath the twin moons again, Arin found himself beside Astra. Her celestial markings glowed as she rested her head on his lap. She was cold like Freya, glowing like Celestia, mysterious like Lyra—yet completely her own.
When she pulled him down for a kiss, the stars above shimmered.
And the final thread of fate began to weave.
But in the distance, the ground split open with a scream, and the Whispering Blade sang.
War was coming.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]