Page 167 of Haunted Crowns
Teeth. Claws. Judgment. His spine was torn from his body.
Silence fell, and then the howl came. It tore the sky open like a divine war cry. It was a sound so primal it split the battlefield. It was a howl of dominion, of vengeance fulfilled.
Kareon heard it; it thundered through his chest like a second heartbeat.
His eyes snapped to the ridge. She still stood. His wolves had done their duty. A slow smirk touched his lips.
The assassins had come to hunt her, but they had become the hunted. Now the end would begin.
The battlefield had teetered on the edge of ruin. Now it burned with something else: hope and faith. That force moved like fire, surging through the blood of every warrior like a divine second wind.
They felt it. The Dragov legions. The Lycans. Every soldier who had bled and refused to fall felt her—not just her power, but her purpose.
She had not given them strength. She had given them reason. To the Firstbloods, she was their queen, living proof that the blood of their ancestors still spoke. To the Lycans, she was the storm-forged flame who would break chains and awaken ancestral power. To all of them, she was the reason they still breathed.
The Obsidian Order had numbers and mercenaries trained in death, but they had no belief, no faith. And those who fight for nothing are always the first to fall.
Kareon stood at the front with his warriors behind him, Lycans forged for battle, fire burning in their chests louder than the storm above.
He raised his claws high, and his voice cracked like thunder across the valley. "BROTHERS! THE SPIRITS WALK WITH US!"
A growl rippled through the ranks. It carried no fear or hesitation, only certainty.
Kareon’s golden eyes burned. "FOR CENTURIES, THEY CALLED US BEASTS. THEY KEPT US IN CHAINS. BUT TODAY, WE BREAK THEM. TODAY, WE RISE!" The ground trembled. The air recoiled. Varis spun his blade with a sharp smirk. "FOR ERIS!" Taric struck his chest, fangs bared. "FOR FREEDOM!"
Their growl rose into a roar, the roar into a battle cry.
Kareon howled, and the sound split the sky. It pierced the soul and planted fear in warriors who had never feared before.
The Lycans howled with him, a declaration, a promise fulfilled. They charged, and crashed into the Obsidian line with claws, steel, and divine purpose.
The front ranks collapsed before they were touched. Kareon moved with mythic force. He caught a blade mid-strike and tore the arm away in one motion. Varis deflected the next attacker and drove his sword through armor and bone. Taric met an assassin mid-air and shredded his throat with a single arc.
Together, they advanced across the battlefield. They did not move as men or monsters. They moved as one.
The storm churned above, but Stephan Dragov didn’t look up. His focus stayed fixed on the enemy ahead, on the warriorsbehind him, and on whether the name Dragov would be etched into history or erased from it. Today, he fought for his people, for his queen, and for the throne. But he also fought for the bloodline that shaped him—for the kings before him and the father whose death had left fire in his hands.
He tightened his grip around Sanguine Oath. The blade shimmered with blood, drawn from his enemies and sealed by legacy.
He leaned forward and whispered low, "I swore to you…Dragov will not fall." He exhaled, steady, and lifted his head. His voice rose, not as a king, but as a man standing with his brothers. "FOR DRAGOV!" Adrian’s blade tightened in his grip. "FOR OUR FALLEN BROTHERS!" Theon spun his dagger, eyes sharp, grin fierce. "FOR THE KING WHO WILL LEAD US INTO LEGEND!"
Cassiel stepped forward and struck his sword against his shield, the sound echoing like a war drum. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Stephan raised Sanguine Oath high. His voice cut through wind and thunder. "WITH ME!"
The Dragov army answered. They advanced together, fury and loyalty in motion. They moved not as many, but as one blade drawn by gods.
The first wave of Obsidian warriors surged forward, their formation precise. Merciless. Stephan met them not as a man, but as steel driven by purpose. One cry rang out as blood burst into the air. The enemy fell before realizing they had already lost.
To his left, Adrian advanced with ruthless precision, his blade cutting down attackers without pause. To his right, Theon slipped past a spear and opened a throat in one swift movement.Cassiel moved behind them, silent and controlled, each strike exact and unyielding.
An Obsidian soldier lunged at Stephan, but Adrian intercepted the blow. "Stay on your feet, my king."
Stephan turned, driving Sanguine Oath into the ribs of the next soldier. "Then fight harder, Valcairn."
Theon slashed through a mercenary, his grin sharp beneath the blood. "Just don’t slow us down."
Cassiel brought down another enemy and spoke without pause. "No more words. We finish this."
A horn blared from the Obsidian lines, a sharp and desperate call to regroup. But regrouping couldn’t undo what had already begun.
