Chapter 4 Blood and Fame

Chaos erupted in the clearing as the Blackthorn priests surged forward, their cloaks trailing shadows like smoke, their chants rising in a low, ominous drone. The symbols etched into the earth flared bright crimson, casting a demonic glow over the battlefield.

Elowen didn't hesitate.

With a primal roar, she launched herself forward, blade drawn, her aura flaring with moonfire- pure, radiant energy that burned through the encroaching darkness. Every fiber of her being screamed one truth: protect Calen.

The first priest lunged for her, claws bared and teeth elongated in a grotesque snarl. She ducked low, spun, and drove her dagger upward through his ribcage. His screech cut the air, but the body dissolved into black mist before it could hit the ground.

More came.

Kieran and Lucien flanked her, fending off attackers with ruthless precision. Kieran's twin blades danced like silver lightning, slicing through two priests at once. Lucien summoned pure spirit fire, lashing it in great arcs that incinerated foes in a blaze of violet heat.

Still, they were surrounded. For every priest they downed, two more emerged from the twisted forest.

"Elowen!" Lucien shouted, catching a spear hurled from the shadows and deflecting it with a wave of fire. "Go! Get to Calen! We'll hold them!"

Her eyes snapped to the stone altar.

Calen had not moved.

He was limp, head bowed, lips parted slightly. A faint golden glow pulsed beneath his skin, like light trapped beneath flesh. The chains binding him sparked with ancient glyphs-powerful sigils designed to suppress, to contain.

Theron stood beside the boy, calmly watching the battle with a look of dark amusement.

"I warned you," he said, stepping toward her as she advanced. "You could've ruled at my side. Instead, you allied yourself with the very wolves who betrayed your bloodline."

She didn't speak.

Words were meaningless now.

She lunged.

Theron met her blade with his own, the clash of steel against steel ringing across the clearing. Sparks flew as they struck again and again, faster than mortal eyes could follow. Her rage fueled her strength, but Theron was stronger than she remembered-faster, darker. Corrupted by years of dark rituals and forbidden power.

"You've grown fierce," he said, blocking a blow and twisting to slam the hilt of his blade against her side. Pain burst through her ribs, but she didn't falter. "But you're still too soft."

Elowen gritted her teeth. "You're a coward."

She struck low, then high-feinting, twisting, driving him back. Behind them, Lucien's fire flared higher, Kieran's war cries ringing like thunder.

Then she saw it.

A crack in Theron's stance.

She pivoted, sliding under his guard, and slashed his thigh.

He stumbled.

But before she could press the advantage, a shockwave pulsed from his hand. It wasn't fire or wind-it was raw darkness, and it hit her like a wall. She flew backward, slammed into a tree with a bone-jarring crunch.

"Elowen!" Kieran shouted, but three priests cut him off.

She gasped, struggling to rise. Her vision swam. Blood trickled from her temple.

Theron approached, breathing hard, bleeding from his leg.

"You're too late," he said, lifting a blackened crystal from beneath his cloak.

At his side, Calen stirred.

Elowen's heart stopped.

The boy's eyes opened.

But they were not the soft hazel she remembered.

They were glowing gold.

The glyphs on his chains pulsed brighter, reacting to the crystal. The ground trembled. A gust of cold wind howled through the trees as power began to gather around him-massive, ancient power that made even the priests pause.

"He's the key," Theron said softly. "Born of a hybrid bloodline. Destined to open the gate between realms."

"You'll destroy him," Elowen growled, forcing herself to her feet. "That much power will tear him apart."

Theron smiled. "Sacrifice always comes with pain."

And then he thrust the crystal toward the boy's chest.

"NO!"

Elowen launched herself forward, but before she could reach them, the altar exploded with light. A pillar of gold and black energy shot skyward, splitting the clouds. The forest howled. Birds scattered. The trees groaned as if alive.

Everyone was thrown back-priests, warriors, even Theron.

When Elowen landed, she tasted blood. The world rang like a struck bell. And then- silence. She lifted her head slowly, painfully. The altar was gone. In its place stood Calen. Unbound. Glowing.

The boy's eyes flickered, and the last of the chains crumbled into dust. The air around him shimmered with raw, unstable energy. Leaves twisted in the windless air. The earth itself seemed to breathe.

Theron stood, staring at the boy in awe. "Yes... yes..."

But Calen turned- not to him.

To Elowen.

"Mama?"

It was his voice. Small. Frightened.

"Calen," she whispered, stepping forward.

He took a shaky step toward her... Then another, but Theron moved too fast.

"No," he snarled, grabbing the boy's arm. "You belong to me now."

The moment he touched Calen, the boy screamed.

A blast of energy surged out from him, knocking Theron away like a ragdoll. The crystal in his hand shattered into a thousand pieces, and the glow in Calen's eyes flickered-unstable now, like a storm barely held in check.

He clutched his head. "Too loud... too loud..."

Elowen reached him, pulling him into her arms. His skin was burning hot, and the magic writhing inside him threatened to lash out again.

"I've got you," she whispered, cradling him. "I'm here. I'm here, my baby."

The boy trembled against her.

Lucien and Kieran closed in behind them, eyes scanning for more threats.

The surviving priests had fled into the woods, and Theron lay sprawled near the edge of the clearing, unmoving.

"It's not over," Lucien said grimly. "This was just the beginning."

Kieran nodded. "The ritual may have failed, but Calen's powers have awakened. Others will come."

Elowen looked down at her son.

He had fallen asleep in her arms, utterly drained.

But his power still shimmered beneath the surface-dangerous, beautiful, and vast.

She tightened her hold on him.

"They'll have to go through me first."

Later that night, back at the war camp, the healers tended to the wounded. The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, casting pale light over the battered tents and bloodied warriors.

Elowen sat beside Calen's cot, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He was safe-for now.

But nothing would ever be the same again.

Lucien approached quietly, his robes still singed from battle. "The boy will need training. Containment. We have no idea what that ritual awoke."

"I'll train him," she said without hesitation.

"You may not be able to. The kind of power he holds-it's ancient. There may be knowledge even I don't possess."

Kieran joined them, arms crossed. "So we find someone who does."

Elowen looked at them both. "I don't care if I have to cross continents or break into ancient libraries. I won't let anyone use him again."

Lucien's gaze softened. "Then we start at dawn."

She nodded and looked back at her son.

For years, she had fought alone. For survival. For truth. Now, she would fight for him. For Calen. For the future. And this time, she wouldn't fail.

As the quiet of the night deepened, the camp settled into uneasy stillness. The air still vibrated faintly with residual magic. Though the fighting had stopped hours ago, the memory of the chaos still clung to every tent and tree like a ghost refusing to leave.

Elowen didn't sleep.

She sat beside Calen, brushing his damp curls from his forehead, watching every shift of his breath. A golden shimmer still pulsed beneath his skin-faint, but constant. The healers had done what they could, but no poultice or incantation could touch what stirred inside him now.

Lucien had given her a single word before retreating to his study tent: "Prophecy."

But she didn't want prophecy.

She wanted peace.

Soft footsteps approached behind her.

Kieran's voice was quiet. "He's strong. Like you."

Elowen nodded but didn't take her eyes off Calen. "Strength is a burden when you're only a child."

Kieran crouched beside her, arms resting loosely on his knees. "He needs anchors. You. Us. A place to be a boy before the world turns him into a weapon."

"He won't be a weapon," she said sharply.

Kieran tilted his head. "If we don't prepare him... someone else will."

A long silence stretched between them.

She hated how right he was.

A soft murmur came from Calen, and he shifted in his sleep. His lips parted, and a name escaped on a breath:

"Theron..."

Elowen tensed.

Kieran caught it too. "He remembers?"

She gently touched the boy's cheek. "Flashes. Nothing clear, yet. But the bond Theron tried to forge wasn't just physical. He was trying to imprint on Calen's soul."

"Can it be undone?"

"I don't know." Her voice was hollow with guilt. "But I'll spend the rest of my life trying."

Kieran leaned closer. "He's not alone, Elowen. Neither are you. You don't have to carry this all by yourself."

For a moment, her shoulders sagged under the weight of years-secrets, loss, isolation. But then she straightened, exhaling slowly.

"No. I don't. Not anymore."

A faint tremor ran through the earth beneath them. Both warriors stilled, senses sharp.

"It's not over," Kieran muttered.

Elowen rose instantly. "What was that?"

Lucien burst into the tent moments later, his violet cloak swirling behind him. His face was pale.

"You need to see this. Now."

Elowen followed without question, Kieran on her heels.

They crossed the camp to the edge of the forest, where warriors stood in tense silence, staring at the sky.

And there it was.

A rift.

High above the trees, barely visible through the night sky, a crack shimmered across the stars like glass fractured from within. Silver light bled from the edges, rippling in waves, warping the sky.

Elowen's blood went cold.

"No..."

Lucien spoke grimly, "It wasn't just a ritual. Theron succeeded in part. The gate between realms-it's beginning to open."

Kieran clenched his fists. "We stopped him."

"We delayed him," Lucien corrected. "But Calen's awakening sent out a pulse. Every dark coven, every blood cult, every realm-touched creature-they felt it. They know a source has awakened."

Elowen's voice was hoarse. "So what happens now?"

Lucien turned to her.

"We prepare for war."

Back in her tent, after hours of strategy and council, Elowen knelt beside Calen again.

He was awake.

"Mama?" His voice was weak, but lucid.

"I'm here," she said, brushing his hair again. "You're safe now."

His lip trembled. "I saw him in my head. The bad man. He told me I was... a door."

She fought the urge to cry. "You're not a door. You're my son. That's all that matters."

"But I heard voices. Screaming. Like... from behind a wall."

She swallowed hard. "That wall is closed. And we'll keep it that way."

He reached for her hand, and when she took it, she felt a flicker of his power-wild, afraid, but seeking her comfort like a moth to a flame.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"So am I," she admitted. "But we face it together."

He nodded, curling into her side. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

She tightened her arm around him. "Then we teach you to control it. To protect, not destroy."

And as Calen finally drifted to sleep again, Elowen stared into the dark horizon, where the sky still shimmered faintly with silver cracks. The gate wasn't fully open. But it was no longer sealed. And the world had just changed forever.