The Hall of Concord trembled as the golden light from King Vaelthar's shattered crown faded, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning magic and the metallic tang of blood. It was 06:42 AM WIB on Tuesday, June 3, 2025, in the world beyond Eldoria, but within this magical realm, time seemed to stretch as the clash of noble rebellion and royal might erupted into chaos. Kael Veyrin stood at the center of the hall, the deep blue Veyrin crystal pulsing furiously in his hand, his storm-gray eyes wide with adrenaline and exhaustion. His lean frame was taut beneath his tattered gray cloak, the forged Merivale crest glinting faintly as he panted, the strain of using Severance to shatter the king's crown—a final anchor of the ritual—taking its toll. His jet-black hair, tied back with a worn leather strip, was slick with sweat, strands falling into his eyes as he brushed them away with a scarred hand.
Around him, the noble alliance fought with desperate ferocity. Elara of House Draven stood at his side, her crimson robe singed and torn, her amber eyes glowing as she summoned a wall of fire to hold back a wave of royal guards, their armor etched with Vaelthar runes. Her freckled cheeks were smudged with ash, her long dark brown hair whipping free of its crimson ribbon as she moved, her burn-scarred hands steady despite the chaos. Lord Draven, her father, fought nearby, his own fire magic a roaring inferno that clashed with the guards' enchanted blades. Lady Seris of House Lirien unleashed a storm of ice shards, her sapphire robe swirling as she targeted a royal mage, her ice-blue eyes cold with precision. The other nobles—House Thalor, House Veyn—added their magic to the fray, emerald winds and violet light clashing with golden royal spells.
King Vaelthar stood at the hall's entrance, his golden eyes blazing with fury, his power diminished but far from broken. Without the crown, his magic flickered, but he summoned a new wave of guards, their numbers overwhelming. "You will not take what is mine!" he roared, raising his staff, a golden beam slicing through the air toward Kael.
Kael raised the crystal, Severance flaring as he unraveled the spell mid-flight, the golden light dissolving into sparks. The effort sent a sharp pain through his chest, his vision blurring, but the echo within the crystal steadied him, its voice clear: *"The throne is near—strike now."* He shook off the dizziness, his gaze locking on the king. "We need to push through," he shouted to Elara. "If we take him down, the guards will falter!"
Elara nodded, her flames intensifying as she carved a path forward, her father joining her with a fiery blast that sent guards sprawling. Rylan, still weak but armed with a stolen blade, guarded their flank, his amber eyes fierce as he deflected a spear aimed at his sister. Lir, Gav, and Mara fought near the hall's rear, Lir's amplification spells boosting the nobles' magic, while Gav's brute strength and Mara's stealth took down guards one by one.
The alliance surged toward the king, their combined magic a storm of fire, ice, and wind, but the royal guards formed a defensive line, their runes glowing as they summoned barriers. Kael focused Severance on the barriers, unraveling them with a sweep of his hand, the crystal's blue light flaring brighter. The echo urged him on, but the cost was mounting—each use of his magic deepened the ache in his chest, and the echo's whispers grew more commanding, urging him to claim the throne at any cost.
As they broke through the first line, a new threat emerged—Prince Aric, recovered from the council chamber, stepped into the fray, his golden eyes narrowed with hatred. His storm of blades returned, sharper and faster, slicing through House Thalor's wind magic and forcing the nobles back. "You'll die before you reach my father," Aric snarled, his royal crest shimmering as he targeted Kael.
Elara countered with a burst of fire, her flames clashing with Aric's blades, but the prince's power overwhelmed her, forcing her to her knees. Kael lunged, Severance slicing through the storm, the blades dissolving, but Aric was ready, his staff swinging to strike Kael's side. The blow sent him sprawling, pain exploding through his ribs, the crystal skittering across the marble floor.
"Kael!" Elara shouted, scrambling to his side, her fire shielding them as Aric advanced. Rylan joined her, his blade clashing with Aric's staff, buying Kael time to recover. He grabbed the crystal, its pulse syncing with his heartbeat, the echo roaring: *"End him!"*
Kael staggered to his feet, Severance flaring as he targeted Aric's staff, unraveling its magic. The staff shattered, Aric stumbling back, but the prince drew a hidden dagger, lunging with a speed Kael couldn't match. Elara tackled Aric, her fire burning his arm, and Rylan's blade found its mark, wounding the prince's leg. Aric fell, his golden eyes dimming with pain, but his voice was venomous. "You'll never hold the throne, lowborn."
The alliance pressed forward, the king now within reach, but the royal guards rallied, their numbers bolstered by reinforcements. King Vaelthar summoned a final spell, a golden dome encasing him, its surface crackling with stolen magic. Kael focused Severance on the dome, the crystal glowing brighter than ever, but the spell resisted, the king's power drawing from the palace itself.
"We need to break the anchor!" Rylan shouted, pointing to a rune at the dome's base, its golden light pulsing in sync with the king's magic. Lir darted forward, his dispel rune weakening the anchor, while Elara and Lord Draven combined their fire to pressure the dome. Kael pushed through the pain, Severance slicing into the rune, the dome shattering with a deafening crack.
King Vaelthar staggered, his magic fading, but he drew a ceremonial blade, its edge glowing with residual power. "You'll die with me, Veyrin," he hissed, lunging. Kael dodged, his dagger meeting the king's blade, the clash ringing through the hall. The echo guided his movements, but the king's strength was formidable, even weakened.
Elara's fire struck the king's back, giving Kael an opening. He drove his dagger into the king's shoulder, Severance unraveling the blade's magic as he struck. The king fell, his golden eyes dulling, the fight draining from him. The guards faltered, their morale broken, and the nobles surged, securing the hall.
But victory came at a cost. The palace trembled, its wards destabilizing without the king's power, and Aric, still alive, vanished into the chaos, his promise of retribution hanging in the air. The nobles secured the hall, their banners raised, but Kael knew the war wasn't over. The throne awaited, and the echo urged him to claim it.
Back in the greenhouse, the alliance tended their wounds, the king imprisoned, the nobles now ruling in council. Elara's hand brushed Kael's, her amber eyes soft with pride. "You did it," she said. But Kael's gaze was distant, the echo's voice louder than ever: "The throne is yours—take it."