Chapter 39: Embers Beneath the Mountain
The night after her ascension, Jean Luther stood alone atop the high terrace of the Luther stronghold. The wind was cold and sharp, brushing against her skin like the whisper of an old enemy. Below, the mountain fortress burned with celebration—flames, song, and steel all honoring her victory.
But Jean's thoughts were heavy.
Whitney approached in silence, paws quiet on the stone. The dire wolf's fur shimmered beneath the moonlight, eyes golden and alert.
"Do you feel it too?" Jean murmured.
Whitney growled low—a sound of warning.
Something stirred beneath the mountain.
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Deep in the ancient catacombs below the Luther estate, a door trembled.
It was older than the clan itself—sealed with aura sigils and divine glyphs carved by Martin Luther in an age long past. Only the Patriarch's aura could break the seal.
And now, Jean's victory had awakened it.
Within the chamber, something slept.
A sword.
A heartbeat.
A warning.
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Meanwhile, across the sea, in the frostbound capital of the Iron Empire, Valeria Durnstahl stood on a frozen balcony, her arms crossed as a raven landed on the railing beside her. Its eyes gleamed unnaturally.
"So the Luther girl has claimed the throne," she said.
A figure stepped out from the shadows. A man clad in red and silver, with aura smoldering like molten steel.
"She defeated Charles Luther himself," he said.
The Empress's lips curved.
"Then she's more than a threat. She's an opportunity."
She turned.
"Prepare the Imperial Envoy. Tell them we will honor her succession—with a duel."
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In the Magistery, high above the Crystal Spire, Erin Magus stirred from meditation. Her son, Ryan, stood nearby, a scroll in hand.
"She's risen faster than I expected," Erin said without looking.
"She's dangerous."
"No," Erin replied. "She's necessary."
She turned her sharp green eyes to Ryan.
"And if she falls… the world falls with her."
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Back in Luther lands, Jean descended into the depths of the catacombs. She followed the pull in her soul—a quiet calling that came with her bloodline. Torchlight danced on walls engraved with history, battles, and the oaths of their ancestors.
She reached the sealed door.
It pulsed faintly as she stepped forward. Her aura touched the stone, and the glyphs shuddered.
With a deep groan, the seal broke.
A cold wind surged from within, and the chamber beyond revealed itself.
A sword, black as void and veined with veins of crimson light, hovered above a stone dais.
Not Solstice. Something else.
A voice whispered inside her mind.
> "You carry the light. But can you bear the fire?"
Jean stepped forward.
And the door slammed shut behind her.
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