The second trial had been brutal. A maze of shifting corridors, traps that killed without warning, and worst of all—other participants who saw them as competition to eliminate. Madison had lost count of how many she'd fought, how many had fallen. The Sword of Fury had sung in her hands, its hunger driving her forward, its darkness spreading through her like a poison.
But she'd survived. They'd all survived. Puli, Taiba, and her. Three friends from Jul, three participants who'd started this journey together, and three who'd made it through both trials.
"Madison!"
The voice cut through the haze of exhaustion, and Madison turned to see Puli and Taiba approaching, their faces pale but determined. They'd made it. They'd survived. They'd proven themselves worthy.
"We made it," Puli said, his voice tight with relief. "All three of us. We're going to be promoted."
"We're going to be elite," Taiba added, though his voice was shaky. "After everything we've been through, we're finally going to be elite."
Madison's hand tightened on her sword. The blade still hummed, still hungered, and she could feel that dark hunger spreading through her. But she'd survived. She'd made it through both trials. And now she was going to be promoted. She was going to become an Elite Knight, just like her father had been.
But the sword was changing her. She could feel it. Her eyes were different now, showing the same hunger that had consumed her father. The darkness was spreading, and she didn't know how much longer she could control it.
"Madison?" Puli asked, his voice concerned. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, though the words felt like a lie. "I'm just... tired. That's all."
"Tired," Puli repeated, though he didn't sound convinced. "Your eyes... they're still different. Like your father's."
"I know," Madison said, though she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. She just wanted to survive. She just wanted to make it through the promotion ceremony. She just wanted to see her family again.
"Participants!" a voice boomed, amplified by magic. "The second trial is complete. One hundred of you have survived. One hundred of you have proven yourselves worthy. You will be promoted tomorrow, in a ceremony presided over by the emperor himself. Until then, rest. Recover. Prepare. Because tomorrow, your new lives begin."
The words hung in the air, heavy with promise. Tomorrow. The promotion ceremony. The emperor. Her family. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd risked, was finally within reach.
But the sword still hummed. The darkness still spread. And she didn't know how much longer she could control it.
The ceremony was held in the grand coliseum, its walls rising high into the sky, its arena vast enough to hold thousands. Madison stood among the one hundred participants who had survived both trials, her hand on the Sword of Fury's hilt, her eyes scanning the crowd.
She found her family first—her mother Elane, her face lined with worry but her eyes bright with pride, and her brother Rapso, now twenty-one, his fisherman's build strong and confident. They'd traveled from Jul to be here, to see her promoted, to celebrate her achievement.
"Madison!" Elane called, her voice carrying over the crowd. "You made it! You survived!"
"I made it," Madison said, pulling her mother into a hug. "I survived. I'm going to be promoted."
"I'm so proud of you," Elane whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "Your father would be proud too."
Madison's jaw tightened. Her father. Maximo. The warrior who'd been petrified by a dragon's breath, who'd become a statue in Jul's central square. The warrior who'd carried the same sword, who'd been consumed by the same darkness.
Would he be proud? Or would he be worried? Would he see the hunger in her eyes, the darkness spreading through her, and know that she was following in his footsteps? That she was making the same mistakes?
"Madison," Rapso said, his voice serious. "Are you all right? Your eyes... they're different."
"I'm fine," Madison said, though the words felt like a lie. "I'm just tired. That's all."
"Tired," Rapso repeated, though he didn't sound convinced. "You look like Father. In the stories. When he was consumed by the sword."
"I'm not consumed," Madison said, though she wasn't sure if that was true. The sword still hummed, still hungered, and she could feel that dark hunger spreading through her. She was losing herself. She was becoming something else.
But she couldn't tell them that. Not here. Not now. Not when they were so proud, so happy. She had to pretend. She had to hide the truth. She had to survive.
"Participants!" a voice boomed, amplified by magic. "The promotion ceremony begins now. Please form a line. The emperor will pass among you, bestowing upon each of you the rank you have earned."
Madison joined the line, her hand on her sword, her eyes fixed on the emperor. He was old now, ninety-three years old, his hair silvered, his face lined with age and power. But his eyes were still sharp, still calculating, and she could feel the weight of his gaze as he moved down the line.
"Puli," the emperor said, his voice resonant with that subtle undercurrent of sorcery. "You have proven yourself worthy. I hereby promote you to Royal Archer. May this spell serve you well."
He placed his hand on Puli's shoulder, and light flared, a warm golden glow that spread through Puli's body. Puli's eyes widened, and he gasped, his body trembling as the spell took hold.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Puli said, his voice shaky. "I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," the emperor said, moving on to the next participant.
"Taiba," the emperor said. "You have proven yourself worthy. I hereby promote you to Royal Archer. May this spell serve you well."
He placed his hand on Taiba's shoulder, and light flared again, the same warm golden glow. Taiba's body trembled, and he gasped, his eyes wide with wonder.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Taiba said, his voice tight with emotion.
The emperor moved on, promoting sorcerers to Master Sorcerers, druids to Elder Druids, warriors to Elite Knights. Each promotion came with a spell, a lifetime gift from the emperor himself, a power that would serve them for the rest of their lives.
"Madison," the emperor said, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Daughter of Maximo. You have proven yourself worthy. I hereby promote you to Elite Knight. May this spell serve you well, and may you carry your father's legacy with honor."
He placed his hand on her shoulder, and light flared, a warm golden glow that spread through her body. But something was wrong. The spell felt... different. Darker. Like it was fighting against the sword's hunger, against the darkness spreading through her.
Madison's body trembled, and she gasped, her eyes widening as the spell took hold. But the sword hummed louder, its hunger growing stronger, and she could feel the darkness spreading, consuming her from within.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Madison said, though her voice was shaky. "I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," the emperor said, though his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, as if he could see the darkness, the hunger, the corruption spreading through her. "Your father would be proud."
Madison's jaw tightened. Would he? Or would he be worried? Would he see what she was becoming, what the sword was doing to her, and know that she was following in his footsteps? That she was making the same mistakes?
The emperor moved on, continuing the promotions, and Madison stepped back, her hand on her sword, her eyes scanning the crowd. She found Puli and Taiba, their faces bright with excitement, their bodies still trembling from the spells. They'd made it. They'd been promoted. They were Royal Archers now, elite warriors of the empire.
But she was an Elite Knight. The same rank her father had held. The same rank that had led to his death. The same rank that would lead to hers, if she couldn't control the sword.
"Madison!" Elane called, her voice excited. "You did it! You're an Elite Knight!"
"I did it," Madison said, though the words felt hollow. She'd been promoted. She'd achieved her goal. But the sword still hummed. The darkness still spread. And she didn't know how much longer she could control it.
The feast was a grand affair, tables groaning under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, and wine that smelled of summer grapes. The prince stood at the head of the main table, his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching as the newly promoted participants celebrated, their faces bright with excitement, their voices raised in laughter and song.
But something was wrong. The prince could feel it, a subtle wrongness that permeated the very air, like a poison seeping into the world. The magic was unstable. Something was interfering. And if his suspicions were correct, it had something to do with his father's... projects.
"Your Highness," a voice said, and the prince turned to see Captain Stompor approaching, his face grim. "We've received reports. Unusual activity. To the east. Beyond the city walls."
"Unusual activity?" the prince asked, his hand tightening on his sword. "What kind?"
"Unknown," Stompor said, his voice tight. "But the scouts are reporting... movement. A lot of movement. Like an army on the march. And the sky... it's getting dark. Too dark. Too fast."
The prince looked up, and his blood ran cold. The sky was darkening, the clouds gathering like a storm, but this was no natural storm. This was something else. Something wrong. Something dangerous.
"An army?" the prince asked, his eyes narrowing. "Whose army?"
"Unknown," Stompor said. "But they're heading this way. And they're moving fast. Very fast. And the scouts are reporting... things. Things that shouldn't exist. Things that haven't existed since the Race Wars."
The prince's jaw tightened. Things that shouldn't exist. Things that haven't existed since the Race Wars. Undead. Necromancy. Dark magic. This was no coincidence. This was planned. This was an attack.
"Sound the alarm," the prince said, his voice tight. "Prepare the guards. Rally the army. And get my father. Now."
"Yes, Your Highness," Stompor said, bowing before moving away.
The prince returned his attention to the feast, watching as the participants celebrated, their faces bright with excitement. They didn't know. They didn't understand. They thought the trials were over, that the danger was past. But the real danger was just beginning.
"Your Highness," another voice said, and the prince turned to see his father's advisor approaching, his face pale. "The emperor is meditating. He says he's trying to understand the situation. But the magic is... unstable. Like something's interfering with it. Something powerful. Something dark."
"Something or someone," the prince said, though he already suspected the answer. His father's projects. The Sudden Death runes. The dark magic from Pyrathis. It was all connected. It was all part of the same corruption.
But he couldn't say anything. Not yet. Not without proof. And even then, what could he do? His father was the emperor. The most powerful sorcerer in the empire. And the prince was just... the prince. The heir. The one who would inherit the throne, and all the corruption that came with it.
"Keep monitoring the situation," the prince said, his voice tight. "And prepare for the worst. If this is an attack, we need to be ready. Sound the horns. Rally the army. Prepare the ships. We may need to evacuate."
"Yes, Your Highness," the advisor said, bowing before moving away.
The prince returned his attention to the feast, watching as the participants celebrated, their faces bright with excitement. But the sky was darkening, the air growing thick with tension, and he could feel the weight of what was coming pressing down on him like a storm.
And then he heard it—the sound of horns, distant but growing closer. The sound of marching feet, thousands of them, moving in unison. The sound of something large, something powerful, something that made his stomach twist with fear.
"Your Highness!" a guard shouted, his voice panicked. "The walls! They're at the walls! And they're... they're not human! They're undead! An army of undead!"
The prince's blood ran cold. Undead. An army of undead. This was no natural attack. This was dark magic. This was necromancy. This was the same corruption that was spreading through the empire.
"Rally the army!" the prince shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Prepare the defense! And get everyone to the ships! Now!"
But it was too late. The attack had already begun.
The feast was in full swing, tables groaning under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, and wine that smelled of summer grapes. Madison sat with the other newly promoted participants, her hand on the Sword of Fury's hilt, her eyes scanning the crowd.
She found her family at a nearby table, her mother Elane laughing with other parents, her brother Rapso talking with other fishermen who'd come to celebrate. They were happy. They were proud. They thought the danger was past, that the trials were over, that she was safe.
But the sword still hummed. The darkness still spread. And she didn't know how much longer she could control it.
"Madison," Puli said, his voice excited. "Can you believe it? We're elite now. We're Royal Archers. You're an Elite Knight. After everything we've been through, we finally made it."
"We made it," Madison said, though the words felt hollow. She'd been promoted. She'd achieved her goal. But the sword still hummed. The darkness still spread. And she didn't know how much longer she could control it.
"Something's wrong," Taiba said, his voice tight. "The sky. It's getting dark. Too dark. Too fast."
Madison looked up, and her blood ran cold. The sky was darkening, the clouds gathering like a storm, but this was no natural storm. This was something else. Something wrong. Something dangerous.
"Something's coming," Puli said, his voice shaky. "I can feel it. In the air. Like... magic. Dark magic."
Madison's hand tightened on her sword. Dark magic. The same kind that had consumed her father. The same kind that was consuming her. The same kind that was spreading through the empire like a poison.
"Participants!" a voice boomed, amplified by magic. "Please remain calm. The royal guard is investigating. There is no cause for alarm."
But the voice was wrong. There was cause for alarm. Madison could feel it. The magic was unstable. Something was interfering. Something was coming.
And then she heard it—the sound of horns, distant but growing closer. The sound of marching feet, thousands of them, moving in unison. The sound of something large, something powerful, something that made her stomach twist with fear.
"Run!" someone shouted. "Run! They're coming!"
The crowd erupted into chaos, people screaming, running in all directions, tables overturned, food scattered. Madison stood, her sword drawn, her eyes scanning the crowd. She had to find her family. She had to get them to safety.
"Madison!" Elane called, her voice panicked. "Madison! Where are you?"
"I'm here!" Madison shouted, pushing through the crowd. "Mother! Rapso! Where are you?"
But the crowd was too thick, too chaotic, and she couldn't see them. She couldn't find them. She was separated from her family, lost in the chaos, surrounded by panicked people running for their lives.
"Madison!" Puli called, his voice urgent. "We have to go! Now!"
"Not without my family!" Madison shouted, but Puli was already pulling her away, his grip strong, his face pale with fear.
"Madison, we have to go!" Taiba said, his voice tight. "The royal guard is outside. They're trying to defend the city. But it's not enough. Nothing's enough."
Madison's heart pounded in her chest. Her family. She had to find them. She had to get them to safety. But the crowd was too thick, too chaotic, and she couldn't see them. She couldn't find them.
And then she saw it—fireballs, massive and burning, arcing through the sky like comets, their trails of fire cutting through the darkness. They smashed into the city walls, into the buildings, into the people, their impact shaking the very ground, their flames consuming everything in their path.
The royal guard was outside, trying to defend the city, but they were being hit by the fireballs, their bodies burning, their screams echoing through the air. Madison watched in horror as a fireball struck a group of guards, their bodies exploding in a shower of fire and blood, their armor melting, their flesh charring in an instant.
"Run!" someone shouted. "Run! They're coming! The undead! They're coming!"
Madison's blood ran cold. Undead. An army of undead. Coming from the woods, from outside the city, flooding into Linguard like a tide of death. She could see them now, their bodies rotting, their eyes glowing with malevolent light, their movements jerky and unnatural. Skeletons with rusted weapons. Ghouls with fangs bared. Mummies wrapped in ancient bandages. All of them moving in unison, all of them heading toward the city.
This was no natural attack. This was dark magic. This was necromancy. This was the same corruption that was spreading through the empire.
"Madison!" Puli shouted, pulling her toward the harbor. "We have to get to the ships! Now!"
"But my family!" Madison shouted, her voice breaking. "I have to find them!"
"There's no time!" Taiba said, his voice tight. "We have to go! Now!"
Madison's heart pounded in her chest. Her family. She had to find them. She had to get them to safety. But the crowd was too thick, too chaotic, and she couldn't see them. She couldn't find them.
She pushed through the crowd, her sword drawn, her eyes scanning for familiar faces. But the crowd was a sea of panicked people, all running in different directions, all trying to escape, all trying to survive. She couldn't see her family. She couldn't find them.
"Madison!" a voice called, and she turned to see Grant, the dwarf warrior, his war hammer in hand, his face grim. "We have to get to the ships! The undead are inside the city! They're everywhere!"
"Not without my family!" Madison shouted, but Grant was already pulling her away, his grip strong, his face pale with fear.
"Madison, there's no time!" Grant said. "The city is falling! We have to go! Now!"
But Madison couldn't leave. Not without her family. Not without knowing they were safe. She had to find them. She had to get them to safety.
She broke free from Grant's grip, pushing through the crowd, her eyes scanning for familiar faces. And then she saw it—a ship, one of many in the harbor, its sails catching the wind, its deck crowded with people. And among them, she saw her family. Her mother Elane, her face pale with fear, her hand clutching Rapso's arm. Her brother Rapso, his face grim, his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for her.
"Mother!" Madison shouted, pushing through the crowd. "Rapso! I'm here!"
But the crowd was too thick, too chaotic, and she couldn't reach them. She couldn't get to them. She was separated from her family, lost in the chaos, surrounded by panicked people running for their lives.
"Madison!" Elane called, her voice panicked. "Madison! Where are you?"
"I'm here!" Madison shouted, but her voice was lost in the chaos, drowned out by the screams and the explosions and the sound of the undead army flooding into the city.
And then she saw it—a fireball, massive and burning, arcing through the sky like a comet, heading straight for the ship. Her family's ship. The ship where her mother and brother were waiting.
"No!" Madison shouted, her voice breaking. "No! Mother! Rapso! Get off the ship! Now!"
But it was too late. The fireball struck the ship, its impact shaking the very ground, its flames consuming everything in its path. The ship exploded, wood and flesh and fire scattering in all directions, the screams of the dying echoing through the air.
Madison's world shattered. Her family. Her mother. Her brother. They were gone. They were dead. They'd been killed by a fireball, by dark magic, by the same corruption that was spreading through the empire.
She stood there, frozen, her sword in her hand, her eyes fixed on the burning wreckage, her mind unable to process what had happened. Her family. They were gone. They were dead. And there was nothing she could do about it.
"Madison!" Puli shouted, his voice urgent. "We have to go! Now! The undead are everywhere!"
But Madison couldn't move. She couldn't think. She couldn't process what had happened. Her family. They were gone. They were dead.
And then something struck her from behind, hard and sudden, and her world went black.
Madison woke to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the salt tang of the sea filling her nostrils, the cold sand beneath her body. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry, her head pounding, and tried to sit up.
Pain exploded through her body, and she gasped, her hand going to her head. There was a lump there, large and tender, and she could feel dried blood matting her hair. Her clothes were soaked, her armor dented and damaged, her sword still strapped to her side.
What had happened? Where was she? How had she gotten here?
She looked around, her eyes scanning the beach, and her heart sank. She was alone. There was no one else here. No ships. No survivors. Just her, the sand, and the endless sea stretching to the horizon.
The memories came flooding back—the attack, the fireballs, the undead army, her family's ship exploding, the fire consuming everything. Her mother. Her brother. They were gone. They were dead.
Madison's world shattered. She'd lost everything. Her family. Her home. Her future. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd risked, was gone. And there was nothing she could do about it.
She tried to stand, but her legs gave way, and she fell, her body crashing to the sand. She was weak. Exhausted. Injured. But she was alive. Somehow, she was alive.
But her family wasn't. Her mother. Her brother. They were gone. They were dead. They'd been killed by a fireball, by dark magic, by the same corruption that was spreading through the empire.
She looked up, her eyes scanning the horizon, and her heart sank further. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how she'd gotten here. She didn't know if anyone else had survived.
But she was alive. Somehow, she was alive. And as long as she was alive, she had a purpose. She had a duty. She had to find out what had happened. She had to find out who was responsible. And she had to make them pay.
She looked down at her sword, the Sword of Fury, still strapped to her side, still humming with that dark hunger. The blade that had consumed her father. The blade that was consuming her. The blade that was her only remaining connection to her family.
But the sword was changing her. She could feel it. The darkness was spreading, consuming her from within, making her something else. Something more. And something less.
But she had no choice. She had to survive. She had to find out what had happened. And she had to make them pay.
Even if it meant losing herself completely.
She looked up at the sky, her eyes scanning the horizon, and her heart sank. She was in Northport. She recognized the coastline, the familiar shape of the harbor, the distant outline of the town. She'd washed up on the coast of Northport, somehow surviving the shipwreck, somehow making it to shore.
But she was alone. Her family was gone. Her friends were gone. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd risked, was gone.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
Except survive. Except find out what had happened. Except make them pay.
Even if it meant losing herself completely.
She pulled herself to her feet, her body aching, her head pounding, and looked toward the town. Northport. A small fishing town, a place of simple folk, far from the capital's intrigues. A place where she could hide, where she could recover, where she could plan.
But she was an Elite Knight now. She had a duty. She had a purpose. And she would fulfill it.
Even if it meant losing herself completely.