━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The balcony door still swung open.
Azhareth’s roar still echoed across Thornmere.
The cradle in the nursery still rocked from where he lifted Varno.
Dust drifted in the air like falling ash.
Elyra stood in the doorway, chest heaving, the daggers she had thrown still quivering in the wall.
Her eyes were wide—
bright—
shattered—
as the reality of the moment settled into her bones.
Elyra (barely a whisper):
“He… he took him…”
Sereth’s hands clutched the frame beside her, nails digging into the wood, her own breath a broken gasp.
Sereth:
“Varno— Varno— my baby—”
Elaris stormed in behind them, cloak trailing ash, armor cracked, hands shaking with necrotic fire he could not contain.
Elaris:
“I SAW HIM— I saw him— he had my son— he— he—”
His voice collapsed into raw, animal agony.
But Elyra wasn’t looking at him.
Her eyes snapped to one corner of the room—
—where Tavian was struggling to sit up, blood smeared on the floor where he’d crawled toward Varno’s cot, his parents huddled nearby, still shaking from the dragon’s fear-spell.
For one breath, Elyra didn’t move.
The next—
She ran.
Not to the balcony.
Not to the nursery.
Not to the window Azhareth had flown from.
She ran to Tavian.
Her boots skidded across the floor as she dropped to her knees beside him.
Elyra (voice cracking):
“Tavian— Tavian, are you hurt?!”
Tavian looked up at her, dazed, terrified, guilt punched into every inch of his expression.
Tavian (hoarse):
“I—I tried. Elyra, I swear I tried to stop him— I tried to fight him— I— I— he wasn’t— he wasn’t trying to kill me— he— he just—”
His voice shook apart.
Elyra grabbed his shoulders.
Elyra:
“No— NO— Tavian, listen to me— this isn’t your fault— it was a dragon— a GOLDEN DRAGON— he— he—”
But she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Her breath hitched, her voice strangled.
Tavian’s mother sank to the floor beside them, one arm around Tavian, one hand over her mouth as she stared at Elyra like she was worried the girl’s heart might detonate from heartbreak.
Tavian’s father, still trembling, whispered:
Tavian’s Father:
“He told us to move aside— we refused— he held us with fear magic— we couldn’t— we couldn’t move— I’m so sorry—”
Elyra turned ferociously toward him, shaking her head.
Elyra (raw):
“No— you did everything you could— you tried to protect him— you all did— this is NOT— ON— YOU.”
Behind her, Elaris sank against the balcony rail, staring at his empty arms as if he’d forgotten how to hold anything.
Elaris (broken, hollow):
“…my son…”
Sereth fell to her knees beside him, clutching his cloak, trying to breathe, trying not to scream.
Garruk, Kaer, Arden, Vex, and Laz stormed in behind them—
battle-worn, bloodied, and pale.
Arden dropped beside Tavian’s parents, checking their pulses, whispering healing warmth.
Garruk put a trembling hand on Tavian’s back—
and for once, the barbarian’s voice was quiet.
Garruk:
“You fought a dragon, boy. You have nothing to apologise for.”
Kaer nodded stiffly.
Kaer:
“If he’d wanted you dead, none of us would be scraping you off the floor. You did well.”
For the first time since the abduction, Tavian looked up.
Slowly.
As if afraid.
As if expecting Elyra to blame him.
As if expecting her to fall apart.
But Elyra did neither.
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, both of them shaking.
Elyra (whispering):
“…you protected him.
As long as you could.
And I love you for that.”
Tavian’s breath hitched.
Completely unprepared.
Completely crushed.
Completely in love.
Behind them, Vex sniffed.
Vex:
“Well. Now I’m crying. Fantastic.”
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
Laz, wiping his eyes too:
“She said the L-word. We all heard it.”
Elyra glared over her shoulder.
Elyra:
“NOT NOW.”
Both twins immediately mimed zipping their mouths shut.
But then—
A pulse went through the room.
Recognisable. Terrifying.
The Lattice.
Elaris’s eyes snapped open, glowing violently.
Elaris:
“He left a trail—
I—I can feel Varno—
he’s alive— he’s scared— but he’s alive—”
Sereth clutched his arm.
Sereth:
“We go after him— NOW—”
Arden stepped forward.
Arden:
“Wait— we don’t even know where he—”
Elyra spoke, still clutching Tavian’s hand.
Her voice was steel.
Elyra:
“Yes. We do.”
The room turned.
Everyone stared.
Elyra’s eyes glowed—
green, gold, and necrotic blue.
The same flare that had killed Varsha.
The same flare that had broken the lattice and put it back together again.
Elyra:
“He took Varno to the Crimson Spire.”
A chill swept the room.
Kaer:
“Are you certain?”
Elyra didn’t blink.
Elyra:
“I felt him.
I FELT my brother.
In the Lattice.
In the pull of the corruption.
I know exactly where Azhareth took him.”
Silence.
Then:
Elaris rose, slowly, like a storm given a body.
Elaris (voice trembling with fury):
“Then we march.”
Sereth lifted her dagger.
Sereth:
“We bring our son home.”
Garruk cracked his knuckles.
Kaer unsheathed his blade.
Vex and Laz lit up with infernal flame.
Arden whispered a prayer.
Pancake—
sitting on a pillow Varno had been lying on—
looked up with glowing eyes.
Pancake:
“I bite dragon.”
And Elyra—
still holding Tavian’s hand—
finally stood.
Elyra (steady):
“Tavian.
Your family stays here.
We will protect them.”
Tavian squeezed her hand, breath shaking, but nodded.
Tavian:
“Go get your brother.
And come back to me.”
Elyra kissed his forehead.
Then turned to the Crimson Dice.
Her voice a blade.
Elyra:
“Three days.”
Elaris:
“Then we end this.”
And in the corridor outside, the bells of Thornmere began to toll.
The war for the Crimson Spire had begun.
THE EVE OF THE MARCH
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
For the first time in a very, very long time…
The Crimson Dice stood whole.
No broken lattice.
No shattered minds.
No dying ranger.
No pregnancy-bed.
No crystalline curse.
No ghosts from the past dragging anyone down.
Just eight warriors—
unburdened, sharpened, healed—
all united by a single purpose:
Bring Varno home.
And bring an end to the Crimson Queen.
The estate pulsed with energy, every room alive with motion:
Kaer and Garruk reinforced armor on the courtyard steps,
sparring hard enough to crack stone.
Vex and Laz wreathed their infernal weapons in fire,
bickering like pyromaniac siblings about “optimal intimidation lighting.”
Arden shaped divine wards with glowing hands along every entryway,
the air humming with her protection.
Pancake stood atop a map table,
poking towns and trails with a tiny cosmic paw,
declaring:
Pancake:
“We go here. Then here. Then BITE DRAGON.”
Nobody corrected him.
A unity had fallen over the group—not fragile, not forced—
but the kind that only forms after surviving hell, death, and sorrow together.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
? TAVIAN & ELYRA — THE FINAL EVENING
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Elyra stood on her balcony in the pale starlight,
wind dancing through her braid,
her hand curled unconsciously around her locket.
When Tavian stepped onto the balcony,
the boards creaked softly under his boots.
He stopped when he saw her—
every bit as breath-stealing as the night he first met her.
Tavian (quietly, as if afraid the moment might break):
“Can I… come closer?”
Elyra turned and smiled.
Elyra:
“Always.”
He stepped up beside her, hands trembling slightly.
For a moment they didn’t speak,
the silence warm and full and aching.
Then Tavian exhaled.
Tavian (voice raw):
“I need to say this before you go.
And I need to say it right.”
Elyra’s heart fluttered.
Tavian took her hands—
carefully, reverently—
as if she were a story he treasured.
Tavian:
“I love you, Elyra Vorn.
Not because you’re brave, or powerful, or beautiful—
even though you’re all of those things.”
His voice cracked.
Tavian:
“I love you because when you smile at me,
I feel like I matter.
I love you because you trusted me when you could barely move.
I love you because you fight like hell for everyone you care about.
And I love you because…
you gave me a piece of you.”
He touched the locket at his chest.
Tavian:
“You asked me to keep you with me.
And I will.
Always.”
Elyra swallowed, eyes bright with emotion.
Elyra (softly):
“Tavian… I love you too.”
He inhaled sharply—
a quiet, stunned breath of pure joy.
Tavian:
“When you return—
and you will return,
because you promised—”
He brushed his thumb over her cheek.
Tavian (smiling nervously):
“I’ll have something waiting for you.
A surprise.
Something important.
But I can only give it to you when you come back.”
Elyra leaned into him, forehead against his.
Elyra (whisper):
“I’ll come back.
I swear it.”
Their kiss was gentle—
not the hunger of their smooching night,
but a vow.
A promise tied in breath and warmth and trembling hope.
Tavian held her tighter,
memorising the shape of her in his arms,
before finally letting go.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
? SERETH & ELARIS — TRUTH IN THE QUIET
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Sereth stood in the Ember Tankard balcony of their shared room,
Varno’s empty crib beside the bed
like a wound that had not yet stopped bleeding.
Elaris found her there,
leaning against the railing,
eyes on the moonlit horizon.
He moved beside her slowly.
Elaris (quiet):
“You’re thinking about Azhareth too.”
Sereth nodded.
Sereth:
“Yes.
But not like before.”
Elaris raised an eyebrow.
Sereth continued, voice soft but steady:
Sereth:
“In the forest… when Varsha died…
when Vaelith screamed…
Azhareth felt it.”
Elaris nodded.
Sereth:
“And when he took Varno…
he didn’t strike me.
Or Elyra.
Or Tavian.
Or Arden.
Not even Tavians parents.”
She looked up at Elaris, tears in her eyes but clarity in her voice.
Sereth:
“He didn’t want to hurt us.”
Elaris’s jaw clenched,
but not in denial—
in recognition.
Elaris (low):
“He told me.
In my mind.
That he was doing it for love.”
Sereth reached out, took his hand.
Sereth:
“If Varno isn’t harmed…
if Azhareth has kept him safe…
we owe him the chance to speak.”
Elaris stared at their joined hands.
His voice cracked.
Elaris:
“For the boy I was,
for the man I became,
and for the family we built—
I will give him that chance.”
Sereth squeezed his hand.
Sereth:
“Together.”
Elaris:
“Always.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
? THE PREPARATIONS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The estate became a fortress of strategy:
- Tables covered in maps of the Crimson Spire
? Kaer marking enemy choke points
? Vex and Laz enchanting arrows and daggers
? Garruk reinforcing armor plating with brute force
? Arden writing divine sigils on shields and bracers
? Pancake drawing battle plans in jam for some reason
? Elaris building necromantic wards
? Sereth and Elyra sharpening blades side-by-side
And all of them carried the same fire in their eyes.
The fire of unity.
Of resolve.
Of fury.
Of family.
For the first time since the beginning—
none were hindered.
None were weakened.
None were alone.
The Crimson Dice were whole.
And they were coming.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
? THE FINAL MOMENTS BEFORE MARCHING
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
As the sky broke into pale dawn,
the group gathered at the main gate of the estate.
Weapons strapped.
Armor fixed.
Expressions carved from stone.
Sereth turned to Elyra,
adjusting the strap of her quiver.
Sereth (soft):
“Ready, little hawk?”
Elyra smiled—
not a girl now—
—but a Ranger of the Vorn bloodline,
standing whole, proud, and unbreakable.
Elyra:
“Ready, Mum.”
Elaris placed his hands on their shoulders.
Necrotic power hummed through him.
The lattice shimmered in both their eyes.
Elaris:
“We bring him home.”
Garruk:
“And break a Spire.”
Kaer:
“And if the Queen stands in the way—”
Vex:
“We melt her.”
Laz:
“We obliterate her.”
Arden raised her holy symbol.
Arden:
“The gods march with us.”
Pancake hopped up onto Elyra’s boot.
Pancake:
“And Pancake too.”
Elyra smiled, lifting him into her arms for a second.
Elyra:
“We know, little guy.”
She kissed his head.
Sereth looked at the horizon.
Sereth:
“Three days.”
Elaris:
“Let’s end this.”
And with that—
The Crimson Dice marched toward the Crimson Spire.
United.
Unbroken.
And unstoppable