The sky over the Swiss Alps had turned an eerie, bone-white gray.
The world held its breath as a new king took his first step into the ashes of the old one.
Inside the ruins of the Blake fortress, flames licked the walls like the tongues of ancient beasts awakening.
Yet amidst the ruin and cinders…
The boy stood untouched.
Flames didn't dare come close.
Smoke curled around him, swirling like it recognized him.
Like it obeyed him.
The crimson-cloaked woman knelt before him, her head bowed, her voice reverent.
"All systems obey you now, my King. Ethan is gone. But your command… shall echo louder than his ever did."
The child tilted his head, that unnerving half-smile playing on his lips again.
Not a child's smile.
A ruler's smirk.
One born from centuries of blood, secrets, and betrayal—all encoded in his DNA.
"She's coming for me, isn't she?"
The woman nodded slowly.
"Your mother always returns. But this time… she does not come to protect you. She comes to stop you."
The boy's eyes flashed like steel drawn under moonlight.
"Then I'll give her a choice."
He turned and walked down the hall, his small frame casting a shadow longer than the corridor itself.
"Bend… or break."
🔥🔥🔥
On the other side of the world, in a remote underground safehouse, Amelia watched the footage.
Her son's face.
Older.
Hardened.
Not the baby she once held in her arms.
But the boy forged in Ethan's final lie.
Her chest constricted, every breath heavier than the last.
My child. My blood. But not my son… not anymore.
Damian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight.
"We go now. Before he builds an army around him."
Amelia's fingers grazed the edge of the monitor, her voice a whisper fractured by grief and steel.
"He's already built one. He carries it in his name."
She closed her eyes for a moment, a flood of memories crashing down.
The first time she felt him kick.
The lullabies she never got to sing.
The night she nearly died, not knowing he was taken from her womb… to be turned into a weapon.
Her tears burned, but she wiped them away.
"No more running."
She stood slowly, each movement deliberate.
No longer a victim.
No longer just a mother.
But a queen.
"I will bring him back." Her voice did not tremble.
"Or I will end the bloodline myself."
As they boarded the stealth jet bound for the ruins, the encrypted screen on Amelia's wristband lit up.
A private, direct transmission.
From him.
"Hello, Mother. I heard you're coming. Shall I prepare your crown?"
And as the engines roared to life, Amelia stared into the horizon, her voice cold as the storm she carried within—
"Prepare my sword."