Chapter 31: The Rise of the Black Sun
A deep silence fell over the battlefield.
Every soldier—whether Vaelthorne's knights or Kaelen's warriors—stood frozen, watching the aftermath of the battle between kings.
Kaelen stood at the center of the field, his body radiating power, the Black Sun Fragment now fully merged with him. The air around him shifted, the very shadows bending at his will.
Across from him, Aldric Vael knelt in the dirt, his black-bladed spear shattered at his side. His golden armor was dented, his breaths ragged.
He had lost.
And the soldiers of Vaelthorne knew it.
---
The Weight of a Fallen King
Aldric stared at his trembling hands.
He had ruled Vaelthorne for years, believing himself to be the rightful king—the one chosen to hold the power of the Black Sun.
But now, the Fragment had chosen Kaelen.
He clenched his fists. His pride screamed at him to fight, to refuse defeat.
But his instincts whispered the truth.
This battle was already over.
His eyes lifted to Kaelen's. "What now?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Kaelen took a step forward. "You tell me."
Aldric's soldiers gripped their weapons, watching, waiting—if Kaelen made a move to execute their king, they would fight. Even if it meant death.
But Kaelen didn't raise his sword.
Instead, he extended his hand.
"I don't need your corpse," he said. "I need your surrender."
Aldric's jaw tightened. He had spent years believing the Black Sun was a myth, a relic of the past. Yet here stood a man who wielded its true power, a man who had defeated him in open battle.
A king who had proven his right to rule.
Slowly, painfully, Aldric bowed his head. "Vaelthorne… is yours."
---
The Black Sun Rises
A murmur rippled through the gathered soldiers.
Then—one by one—Vaelthorne's knights knelt.
Even those who had fought to the death just moments before lowered their weapons.
Lirien watched from the side, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well," she muttered, crossing her arms, "that's one way to take a city."
Kaelen let out a slow breath. His first victory.
But he knew this was just the beginning.
A single Fragment of the Black Sun had returned to him.
But there were more.
And there were those who would stop at nothing to keep him from reclaiming them all.
Kaelen turned his gaze toward the horizon, where dark clouds gathered.
A new war was coming.
And the world would soon remember the true power of the Black Sun.
Shadows of the Past
A City in Transition
The city of Vaelthorne, once a fortress of defiance, now stood under Kaelen's rule.
The banners bearing Aldric's Crowned Wolf insignia were ripped down from the castle walls, replaced with the sigil of the Black Sun—a midnight-black disc, wreathed in flames. The streets, still littered with the remnants of battle, were filled with whispers of uncertainty.
Would Kaelen rule as a conqueror or a king?
Lirien, standing on the castle's eastern balcony, surveyed the city below. Fires still smoldered, and the cries of the wounded echoed in the distance.
She turned as Kaelen approached, his cloak billowing behind him.
"Well," she said, leaning against the stone railing, "you've got a kingdom now. How does it feel?"
Kaelen exhaled slowly. "Like the beginning of something far greater."
His gaze was distant, fixed not on the present but on the challenges ahead.
"I need to secure control," he muttered. "Aldric's forces may have surrendered, but the nobles, merchants, and scholars—they will resist in their own way."
Lirien smirked. "You mean poison, betrayals, and secret plots? Sounds like a fun challenge."
Kaelen didn't smile. "It's not just them I have to worry about."
His hand tightened into a fist. "The other kingdoms will see this as a threat. The moment they realize the Black Sun has returned, they'll move against us."
Lirien tilted her head. "Then what's our next move?"
Kaelen's eyes darkened. "We find the next Fragment."
---
The High Magus's Secret
Deep within the dungeons of Vaelthorne, a single torch flickered against the damp stone walls.
The High Magus, once a respected advisor to Aldric, sat bound in chains, his once-pristine robes tattered and bloodstained.
The doors creaked open, and Kaelen stepped inside, his shadow stretching long across the cold floor. Lirien followed, arms crossed, watching the old man with curiosity.
Kaelen stopped before the captive. "You knew the Black Sun Fragment was never meant for Aldric."
The High Magus chuckled weakly. "I suspected. But knowledge is dangerous in a king's court." He lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "And now that you have it… I imagine you'll want to find the others."
Kaelen's expression remained unreadable. "Where is the next one?"
The Magus's lips curved into a faint smile. "Far beyond these lands. In the Ruins of Varethis."
Lirien frowned. "Varethis? That's—"
"An ancient kingdom lost to time," Kaelen finished. "One that fell when the Black Sun Empire was destroyed."
The High Magus laughed softly. "Then you know the danger that awaits. Varethis was not merely abandoned. It is a graveyard, a place where the dead do not rest."
His chains clinked as he leaned forward. "If you seek the next Fragment, you will have to face the Forgotten Guardians."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. He had heard the legends—warriors cursed to protect the ruins, bound by an oath that transcended death.
But legends would not stop him.
He turned sharply. "Prepare the men. We march for Varethis."
---
Aldric's Last Play
As Kaelen prepared for his next conquest, Aldric sat alone in his former throne room, his wrists bound in enchanted shackles.
The weight of his failure pressed down on him, but his mind was already working.
Kaelen had spared him—but that didn't mean he had to accept defeat.
A shadow stirred in the corner of the chamber.
A hooded figure stepped forward, their cloak blending into the dim candlelight. "You have lost your throne, Aldric."
Aldric smirked. "For now."
The figure hesitated, then extended a small obsidian shard, its surface pulsing faintly.
"The Black Sun's return has stirred old powers. There are those who wish to see Kaelen fall—and they are willing to offer you the means to do so."
Aldric reached for the shard. As his fingers brushed against it, darkness surged into his veins.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"Then let's see if Kaelen can hold what he has taken."
The Road to Varethis
A Kingdom in Unrest
Vaelthorne was no longer Aldric's city, yet the air still carried whispers of his rule. The transition of power had been swift, but Kaelen knew it would not be seamless.
Even now, as he walked through the marble halls of the castle, he could feel the eyes of nobles, guards, and servants alike watching him. Some with fear, some with resentment, and a few with calculating silence—waiting to see if he would prove stronger or weaker than the king he had unseated.
Lirien stood beside him, her keen eyes flicking between those who lowered their gazes at Kaelen's passing.
"They fear you," she murmured. "Good."
Kaelen didn't reply. He was focused on something far greater than courtiers and scheming nobles.
His true battle lay ahead.
In the depths of Varethis, where the next Fragment of the Black Sun awaited.
---
The Council of Shadows
In the war chamber, the leaders of Kaelen's forces gathered—knights, strategists, and commanders. A map of the continent lay spread before them, marked with rivers of ink showing Kaelen's territory, enemy strongholds, and the route to Varethis.
Captain Orik, a grizzled veteran, leaned forward. "The ruins lie beyond the Eastern Wastes. No man has set foot there in over a century."
"Not one who lived to tell about it, anyway," muttered Veylan, Kaelen's spymaster. The pale, scarred man stood at the edge of the room, watching everything with sharp, unblinking eyes.
Kaelen's gaze remained steady. "The Forgotten Guardians will be a challenge," he admitted. "But we have no choice."
The High Magus, still weak from his captivity, cleared his throat. "If you wish to claim the Fragment, you must prepare for more than just warriors."** His voice was grim. "The ruins of Varethis hold something far worse than the dead."**
Lirien arched a brow. "I'm guessing you're not talking about ghosts."
The Magus shook his head. "The Fallen King still lingers there."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber.
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "Explain."
The Magus hesitated before speaking. "Before the fall of the Black Sun Empire, Varethis was ruled by King Deymaris. When the Empire collapsed, he refused to surrender the power he held. He was cursed… bound to the ruins for eternity, his soul and body twisted into something unnatural."
Veylan exhaled sharply. "So we're marching into a tomb guarded by an undying king?"
Kaelen's expression was unreadable. "If he stands in my way, then he will fall."
His words sent a ripple of unease through the room, but no one dared challenge him.
He had already defied fate once—who was to say he couldn't do it again?
---
Aldric's Secret War
Far from the castle, deep within the underground chambers of Vaelthorne, Aldric knelt before a circle of cloaked figures. The obsidian shard he had been given pulsed in his palm, its darkness sinking deeper into his veins with every passing second.
A raspy voice spoke from the shadows.
"You have lost your throne. But you have not lost your purpose."
Aldric's fingers tightened around the shard. "Kaelen took everything from me." His voice was laced with fury. "I will take it back."
The air in the chamber grew heavy. A swirling presence—a force ancient and hungry—seemed to press against Aldric's very soul.
"Then rise, Forsaken King," the voice whispered. "And let the true war begin."
Aldric gasped as black veins erupted beneath his skin, his body wracked with searing pain. But he did not scream.
He only smiled.
---
March to the Ruins
Three days later, Kaelen and his army rode out of Vaelthorne.
A force of five hundred elite warriors—knights, battle mages, and scouts—accompanied him. The banners of the Black Sun flew high, their dark sigils glinting beneath the overcast sky.
Lirien rode at his side, her expression one of anticipation. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" she asked.
Kaelen's grip tightened on the reins. "No. What I want lies ahead."
As they crossed into the Eastern Wastes, the first signs of Varethis's curse became clear.
The land was unnatural—the air thick with a presence unseen. The trees stood blackened and dead, yet their twisted branches seemed to reach for the sky like skeletal fingers.
The deeper they traveled, the stronger the whispers became.
Faint voices, calling from beyond the grave.
Kaelen closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel it—the Fragment of the Black Sun, somewhere ahead.
Waiting.