Chapter 18: Bloodlines and Black Flames
The snowstorm outside Luther Keep had worsened, swirling into a tempest as if the world itself reacted to the awakening beneath its stone bones. Within the keep, the Luther siblings gathered—Jean, Adam, and Sylvia—summoned not by Charles, but by instinct.
Something was coming.
Something familiar.
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Adam Luther stood with arms folded in the great hall, eyes narrowed. "I felt it," he said. "So did you."
Jean nodded. "Raven broke the Vault."
Sylvia, silent for most of the meeting, finally spoke. "The Black Fang Doctrine... I saw Father study it once. It nearly killed him. He sealed it again with his own blood."
Adam looked at her. "And now Raven holds it."
"She won't stop," Jean said. "She never cared for honor or duty. She just wanted to prove herself—to make her name matter."
Adam scoffed. "She'll prove herself dead if she tries using that thing against me."
Jean turned to him, eyes cold. "You think this is about you? She's not fighting for the throne anymore. She's fighting to burn the whole system down."
Sylvia walked toward the windows, watching the storm. "It's begun. We should have seen it coming. All of us."
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Deep beneath the mountain, Raven emerged from the Vault.
Her armor was cracked and scorched. Her aura shimmered like tar laced with embers. And the sword she carried—the Black Fang Blade—left trails of black fire with every step.
Velin soared above her, its feathers now singed with ash.
As she entered the lower corridors, the guards stationed there drew weapons—then froze.
They felt it. Her presence.
It wasn't just fear. It was submission.
Raven smiled faintly.
"Tell Charles Luther," she said, "that his outcast daughter has returned from the dark. And I bring with me the blade his father sealed in terror."
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Atop the Tower of Ancients, Charles watched the snow melt in patches around the keep as Raven approached, every step warping the aura around her.
"She's not the same," whispered the elder beside him.
"No," Charles replied, voice grim. "She's become the thing we swore never to unleash."
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Jean, now in the Hall of Blades, was donning her training robes when Whitney growled.
Raven entered the chamber.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Raven tossed something at Jean's feet.
A Luther Clan insignia—charred and cracked.
"I reject them," Raven said. "The bloodline, the rules, the oaths. I came here to be their equal. Now I'll surpass them all."
Jean stood, sword already in hand. "You've corrupted yourself."
"I've freed myself."
Their auras flared—gold light and black flame clashing midair like twin suns in conflict.
But Jean didn't move.
Not yet.
"Why come here, Raven?"
"To declare war," Raven said, lifting her blade. "I won't wait for the succession. I'm taking the throne now. And you—"
She pointed the blade at Jean's heart.
"—are in my way."
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