Chapter 50: A World Set to Burn
The banners of the Luther Clan soared high over the obsidian spires of Luther Citadel. Jean stood alone upon the high balcony of the Grand Hall, the storm-winds brushing through her silver-white hair as thunder rumbled low across the mountains.
Below, thousands knelt—not just swordsmen of the Clan, but emissaries, knights, and envoys from across the fractured alliances of the world. All bore witness to the coronation of a new era.
Not merely as the final heir.
But as the Emissary of Light, bearer of the First Spell, and Warden of the Word of Unmaking.
Jean Luther.
She no longer needed to contest her place.
She was the future.
And the world would shape itself around that truth—or burn.
---
In the hidden heart of the Iron Empire, Empress Valeria Durnstahl stared into a darkened mirror. Her golden armor shone dimly in the torchlight, her eyes narrowed as visions swam through the scrying glass.
"She unlocked it," she muttered.
Behind her, Duke Helbrecht of the Fourth House bowed deeply. "Should we initiate the Dragon Accord?"
Valeria turned. "Yes. Summon the Obsidian Pact. The dragons stir again, and if we do not rise now, the world will belong to fire."
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Across the wastes, deep in the ruins of a broken citadel swallowed by sand, the first tremors began.
The Dragons were waking.
Not just Antares.
But the Ancient Brood—those long hidden beyond the veil, sealed during the first war.
Their scales were obsidian.
Their eyes were stars.
And their roars echoed across the ley-lines, setting the world's bones to shiver.
---
At the Luther Academy, now a war council and sanctuary, Silvia Luther stood over a table of maps. Formerly withdrawn from battle, she had returned—not for the throne, but for the fight.
"She's no longer just our kin," she whispered to a gathered conclave of Grand Masters. "She's the last star before the fall."
---
Jean descended from the tower into the inner sanctum. Whitney walked beside her, silent and solemn. The runes over her heart pulsed as though the world itself were speaking through her veins.
There was no longer time for politics or rivalry.
Not while the Ancient Fire moved again.
Her voice rang out to the gathered Envoy Knights.
"The dragons rise," she said. "And with them, the end of this age. We march not for dominion, but for survival."
Her blade ignited.
Eclipsion shone like a newborn sun.
"We end this war… or we end."
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