Chapter Thirty-Four-Shadow's Judgment
The council had ended in fragile unity, but the air inside David's fortress was still thick with distrust and bitterness.
Kael sat quietly near Lira, her presence his only calm amid the storm. His hand rested on hers, but his eyes scanned the room. The tension hadn't left—only smoldered under the surface like dying embers waiting for a gust to reignite them.
And it didn't take long.
"I still don't understand how a boy like him was chosen to carry the legacy of Andrew," muttered a grizzled voice from across the hall.
"Or why we're even letting him sit among us," another added, his armor clanking as he stood. "He's too soft. And that girl? She's the only reason half of you even listen to him. Just look at her… she looks more like a concubine than a strategist."
Lira stiffened. Kael's grip tightened. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
"Oh, the boy stays quiet," came another voice, this time from a heavy-set general named Branok, who had once served Andreas. "I've seen his kind before. Hides behind love and tears until the real blades start swinging. Then he'll beg for mercy."
Kael stood now, fists shaking. "Say another word, and—"
"You'll what? Cry again?" sneered Tudor, a tall, broad-shouldered man with deep scars running across his cheek. His presence was darker than the others, something brewing in his gaze—a deep-set hatred, quiet and patient.
"And besides," Tudor went on, smiling grimly, "we all know she's a distraction. A body like that, on the arm of a weakling like you? You're more of a disgrace to Andrew's bloodline than Andreas ever was."
At that, a clatter of swords erupted across the room. Half of the generals drew steel. Others rose in protest, yelling, trying to stop what was coming. The council, once an effort to unite, had collapsed into chaos.
Suddenly, Branok lunged at Alex, blade high. Alex raised his hand to cast a shield, but it was too late—Tudor, moving with terrifying speed, struck the side of Alex's head with the pommel of his sword. The commander of magic fell in a heap, unconscious.
Cries of "Traitor!" echoed as Tudor barked to his loyalists. "Cut down the cowards! Kill David! End this illusion of unity. The traitors of Dream Land must die!"
Mario rushed to Kael's side, but was quickly overpowered by two generals and slammed against the council wall. Shackles appeared around Kael's wrists, enchanted steel that resisted even his strongest pull. His sword was taken, and Lira was forced to the back of the hall under the leering gazes of the rogue generals.
Tudor stalked forward. "You always were just a child, Kael. A shadow of a shadow. And now, the girl will scream for mercy while you watch. That's what your father would have done, isn't it? Your blood—it's cursed."
Kael shouted, trying to break free, but the bindings held firm. Lira stood tall despite the approaching traitors, her magic sparking to life in her palms.
And then—
The torches flickered.
The walls trembled.
A cold, unnatural wind swept through the fortress, extinguishing every light but one—casting long, terrifying shadows across the floor.
And from those shadows…
Andrew emerged.
No longer the man they once knew.
Clad in pitch-black armor etched with flowing red runes, his long dark hair floated in the air like smoke. Behind him, Mihai followed silently, his own presence like a dark flame at Andrew's side. But it was Andrew's eyes—glowing a haunting violet—that silenced the room.
The power that came with him sucked the breath from every man present. The corrupted aura around him thickened the air, making it hard to breathe. Two generals, standing near Lira, raised their weapons in fear.
Andrew raised his hand.
And with a flick of his fingers—
SLASH.
They were cut in half before they could blink. No sword drawn. No time to react. Just death.
Everyone froze.
Andrew's voice was a growl. A low, thunderous echo.
"Nobody touches my family without my permission."
He stepped forward. The floor beneath him cracked.
"You foolish generals. Swordsmen." He looked over them with disdain. "There is no Dream Land anymore. And with me here… it will never revive again."
Gasps.
The hall fell to its knees. Some generals backed away in terror. Others stared in disbelief.
Tudor stood, shaking, though still defiant. "Andrew… this isn't what you fought for. Dream Land—"
"Died the moment Andreas betrayed me."
Andrew's voice cracked the very walls. "And you… you stand here plotting like rats, trying to pick scraps off a dead kingdom while pretending to be noble?"
He turned to David. "I warned you… this alliance would not hold. The weak always fall to their own pride."
Then he walked to Kael, who was still bound. Andrew's eyes met his son's.
Kael flinched—but then, the bindings melted away, consumed by Andrew's aura.
"You've seen the truth now," Andrew said quietly. "You've seen what this world does to loyalty. What it does to love. And what it deserves."
Kael looked up, chest rising and falling fast.
"What… are you planning?"
Andrew turned his back.
"Balance," he whispered. "Balance through fire. I will destroy the continent… and from the ashes, the worthy will rise."
He walked toward the council doors, with Mihai following.
Behind them, silence. Every man too scared to move. Too broken to speak.
But Kael stood.
"No," he said.
Andrew paused.
"I may carry your blood… but I am not your shadow. If you want to bring fire to this world, you'll have to go through me."
Andrew looked over his shoulder. There was a flicker in his eye—pain? Pride? It vanished.
"So be it," Andrew said.
Then he was gone, vanishing into shadow.
Leaving behind only fear… and the quiet resolve of a son, finally stepping out of the legacy that had nearly consumed him.