Adrian Valorian's heart thundered, the infirmary's sterile walls closing in as the serpent-sigil man's blade gleamed, its edge pulsing with the Heart of Eldoria's stolen light. His words—The network's heart is Eldoria's end—were a death sentence, his magic a storm pinning Adrian, Lira, and Eryn in place. The veiled woman, Lysara, was gone, her vial of Adrian's father's blood shattered, but the network's shadow lived, and this man was its blade. The void's voice, sharp and human—Valorian, you're mine—echoed, a promise of annihilation.
Lira Vey's scream cut through, her dagger flashing despite the blood on her lip and the bruise darkening her cheek. "Adrian!" she shouted, straining against the man's magic, her eyes fierce but desperate. Princess Eryn's dagger was raised, her arm trembling, while Professor Elara's spell fizzled, her hands sparking uselessly. King Alaric's guards were frozen, their armor clattering, as the relic blade descended toward Adrian's chest.
His bandaged palm throbbed, the sacrifice of shattering Lysara's shard a fresh wound, his spell-burned arm a map of scars. The Draven ring, tight on his finger, pulsed, its sigil a faint beacon in the chaos. His cloak was in tatters, his weak magic a dying ember, but his mind was a forge, hammering out survival. "Not today," he growled, his voice raw, rolling to the side as the blade grazed his shoulder, searing flesh.
The man's eyes narrowed, his cloak's serpent sigil—older, primal, not Draven's—glinting with malice. "Valorian blood," he hissed, his voice a blade, "ends with you."
Adrian scrambled to his feet, pain a distant roar, his eyes locked on the relic blade. The Heart's power, scattered in remnants, was alive in that blade, tied to his blood, his father's blood. The journal's torn pages, clutched by Elara, named a network spanning continents—merchants, mages, priests—but this man was no pawn. He was the network's heart, and Morna's absence was a shadow in Adrian's mind.
"Lira, the blade!" Adrian shouted, dodging another strike, the infirmary's cots overturning in the man's storm. Lira dove, her dagger aimed at the man's wrist, but his magic hurled her back, her cry piercing Adrian's heart. Eryn lunged, her dagger sparking against the relic blade, but the man's strength was inhuman, knocking her to the ground.
Elara's voice broke through, strained but fierce. "The blade's a conduit!" she shouted, her hands glowing with a desperate spell. "Break it, Corveth—your blood's the key!"
Adrian's blood sang, the guardian's hum faint but defiant, its whisper—Claim it—a call he couldn't ignore. His father's blood, the vial's truth, was a fire in his veins, a question unanswered. Was his father dead, or something worse? He tackled a fallen guard's sword, its weight clumsy but better than nothing, and charged, his weak magic flaring, a spark against the man's storm.
The serpent-sigil man laughed, his blade flashing, runes pulsing like the Heart. "You're weak, Valorian," he said, his magic a wave that staggered Adrian, pain lancing through his scars. "Your father begged, too."
The words hit like a spell, rage boiling in Adrian's chest. "Liar!" he roared, his sword clashing with the relic blade, sparks flying. The guardian's hum surged, its voice a thunderclap: Bind or break. His blood answered, pain blinding, but he held on, the Draven ring burning, its sigil a desperate hope.
Lira scrambled to her feet, her dagger slashing the man's cloak, tearing the serpent sigil. The man snarled, his magic faltering, and Eryn's guards rallied, their blades a chorus. Elara's spell hit, a net of light that staggered the man, his relic blade wavering. Adrian dove for it, his bandaged hand screaming, his fingers brushing its hilt, cold as death but alive with power.
The man's magic roared, a storm that knocked Elara and the guards back, but Adrian held on, his blood pouring into the blade, a spark against its might. The guardian's voice was clear: Sacrifice. His eyes met Lira's, her scream a distant echo, and he drove the blade into the floor, runes shattering, the Heart's light exploding.
The man screamed, his form dissolving into shadow, the relic blade crumbling to dust. The infirmary stilled, the void's voice gone, but Adrian's strength failed, his knees buckling. Lira caught him, her arms trembling, tears streaking her face. "You're impossible," she gasped, her voice breaking, blood trickling from her lip.
Eryn helped Elara stand, her face grim but grateful. "He's gone," she said, her voice low. "But the network's still out there."
Alaric's voice cut through, steady but shaken. "Seal the infirmary. We hunt the remnants—now."
Adrian's chest heaved, the Draven ring cool but alive, his blood a fading heartbeat. The man's words—Your father begged—were a noose, tightening with every breath. He scanned the infirmary, spotting the journal's pages, their runes dim but damning. A new page caught his eye, its script faint but chilling—a name, not an envoy or mage, but a Valorian: Kael Valorian, bound to the Heart.
His heart stopped, the ring's pulse surging. Kael, his uncle, long thought dead with his father, named in the journal as a traitor. "Elara," he rasped, pointing at the page, "what is this?"
Elara's face paled, her hands trembling as she lifted the page. "It's… a record," she said, her voice low. "Kael wasn't framed like your father. He joined the network, bound his blood to the Heart's forging. He's alive, Adrian—and he's their leader."
The world tilted, pain and rage warring in Adrian's chest. His father's death was a lie, his uncle a traitor, and the Valorian name was a curse, its blood a battlefield. Lira's hand tightened, her voice urgent. "We'll find him. Together."
But the infirmary's walls trembled, a low hum rising—not the guardian's, not the void's, but something new, a voice cold and familiar: Nephew, you're late. A shadow moved, not the serpent-sigil man, not Lysara, but a figure in a crimson cloak, his face scarred, his eyes gleaming with the Heart's light. Kael Valorian, alive, his presence a storm, a relic in his hand—not a blade, but a crown, its runes pulsing with the Heart's power.
"Adrian," Kael said, his voice a velvet blade, "your father's blood was weak. Yours will serve."
The crown flared, its magic a tide, pinning Adrian, Lira, and Eryn. Guards screamed, Elara's spell fizzled, and Alaric's shout was lost in the chaos. Lira's dagger flashed, but Kael's hand caught it, twisting her arm with a smile. "You're brave, girl," he said, "but this is family."
Adrian's blood roared, the guardian's whisper faint but defiant: Fight. He staggered to his feet, his weak magic flaring, a spark against Kael's storm. The ring burned, its sigil a beacon, and he lunged, his bandaged hand reaching for the crown, pain blinding. Kael's magic was relentless, a wave that knocked him back, but Adrian's blood was the Heart's anchor, his will its key.
"Stop him!" Eryn shouted, her guards charging, but Kael's crown pulsed, runes flaring, a portal opening behind him—a void, dark and endless, its pull a maw. "The network's mine," Kael said, his eyes locked on Adrian. "Eldoria's mine."
Lira dove for Adrian, her arms shielding him, her voice raw. "You're not taking him!" Elara's spell hit, a desperate flare, but Kael's magic deflected it, the portal's pull intensifying. Adrian's hand found the journal's page, its script a desperate hope, and he tore it, runes fading, Kael's crown flickering.
Kael's scream was fury, his magic surging, but the guardian's hum surged, its voice a thunderclap: Traitor. Tendrils lashed from the void, piercing Kael, his crown wavering. Adrian dove again, his hand closing around it, pain blinding, his blood pouring into its runes, a spark against its might. The portal destabilized, Kael's form faltering, but he laughed, a chilling sound, and vanished into the void, the crown gone with him.
The infirmary stilled, the hum gone, but Adrian's strength failed, his vision darkening. Lira's arms held him, her tears hot against his cheek. "Stay with me," she sobbed, her voice breaking. Eryn's guards swarmed, sealing the room, while Elara knelt beside Adrian, her face grim. "He's alive," she said, her voice urgent, "but Kael's not done."
Alaric's voice was steel, his eyes dark. "We hunt him. The Heart's power ends tonight."
Adrian's chest heaved, the Draven ring cool but alive, Kael's words—Your father's blood was weak—a knife in his heart. His uncle was the network's heart, his father's fate a mystery, and the Valorian name was a battlefield. He scanned the infirmary, spotting a healer's satchel, its contents gleaming—a locket, etched with Valorian runes, glowing faintly like the Heart.
"What's that?" he asked, his voice hoarse, pointing at the locket.
Elara's face paled, her hands trembling as she lifted it. "A relic," she said, her voice low. "Found in the temple. It's tied to the Heart, but… it's your father's. His memories, his will."
Adrian's heart stopped, the ring's pulse surging. His father's memories, preserved, a key to the Heart's truth—or a trap. "Open it," he demanded, his voice raw.
Elara's hands shook, the locket flaring, runes glowing, and a voice—not the guardian's, not Kael's, but his father's—whispered: Adrian, I live. The locket opened, light spilling, a vision forming—a man, scarred but unbroken, his eyes Adrian's own, standing in a void, a prisoner of the Heart's power.
"Father," Adrian gasped, his blood a fading heartbeat, Lira's arms his anchor. The vision flickered, a shadow moving behind his father—not Kael, but Morna, her silver cloak gleaming, her eyes cold. "Valorian," she whispered, her voice a blade, "your father's mine."
The locket snapped shut, the vision gone, and the infirmary's walls trembled, a new hum rising—not the guardian's, but the Heart's, sharp and relentless: The blood binds. A portal opened, a sliver of darkness, and Morna's laughter echoed, chilling and final. Adrian's scream was silent, his strength failing, the Heart's power awake, his father alive but lost, and Eldoria's fate a knife's edge.