Chapter 13 - Shadows in the Rising Storm

The world was not quiet after the throne chose its king, no, the silence was a lie hiding a storm waiting to explode, the lands cracked and scarred, rivers running dark with blood and twisted magic, skies heavy with thunder that grumbled like the roar of a beast locked inside the clouds, and Ceyr walked through the shattered remains of what once was, every step a promise of change, the cursed runes on his skin pulsing bright like the heartbeat of a sleeping god waking from a thousand years of sleep, his breath slow but full of fire, and behind him, the army of forgotten souls grew with every passing hour, a twisted legion made of broken beasts, lost spirits, and cursed children, all drawn by the hunger in his eyes and the power spilling from his veins, they moved like shadows merging into one unstoppable tide ready to drown the old world in blood and ash, but far away, the kingdoms felt the shift, the towers of the Archlords shook with fear as whispers of rebellion and doom spread like wildfire through their halls, desperate plans formed behind locked doors, assassins were sent cloaked in silence, warriors with blades dipped in poison stalked the night, and sorcerers of forgotten arts prepared curses older than time itself, all to stop the rise of the Devourer King before he could plunge the world into eternal darkness, but Ceyr was no longer the boy they once hunted, no, he was a storm made flesh, a king forged in fire and pain, and every attack only fed the burning hunger inside him, he fought with fists that shattered mountains and voices that commanded shadows to obey, his eyes burned like twin suns piercing the deepest night, and every fallen enemy made the curse inside him roar louder, pushing to take full control, but Ceyr fought back with everything he had, reminding himself he was more than a vessel, more than a curse, that he was the one to break the chains and build a new world, the sky above cracked open with lightning bolts that split mountains and set forests on fire, and in the chaos, he heard a voice, sharp and clear like a blade cutting through the storm—it was Caelina, the Saintblade, once his enemy, now something more, her silver armor gleaming even in the darkest night, her voice carrying a desperate hope, promising a path to redemption if only he could trust her, and for a moment, time slowed, the king of shadows and the blade of light standing on the edge of war and peace, the future hanging by a thread between them, but the storm was not done yet, for beneath the earth, deeper than any eye could see, ancient forces stirred, old gods and forgotten beasts awakening to the call of the Devourer's will, ready to tip the balance and change the world forever, and Ceyr knew that his fight was only just beginning, that the rising storm was not just outside, but inside him, the hunger, the power, the choice between destruction and salvation, and as the thunder rolled and lightning danced across the sky, the world waited, holding its breath, for the war that would decide its fate.