Velmora was dying.
Not from siege.
Not from starvation.
Not even from revolution.
It was dying from secrets.
The city burned beneath a sky heavy with snow and smoke. Bells rang across distant districts while black banner soldiers marched through streets illuminated by firelight.
Every road led toward the center.
Every order came from one man.
Corven.
And tonight—
The commander who never lost control was hunting something more dangerous than an army.
His own son.
Far above the city, inside the abandoned watchtower, Kaelan stared toward the palace.
Thousands of black banners moved through Velmora like rivers flowing toward the same destination.
"They'll tear the city apart searching for him," Dren muttered.
Arcturus nodded.
"They already are."
The old general's eyes remained fixed on the city below.
"Lucien knows that."
Kaelan frowned.
"Then why attack now?"
A long silence followed.
Then Arcturus answered.
"Because he wants to be found."
The words felt wrong.
Dangerously wrong.
Nobody tries to assassinate the most powerful commander in the north and then remains nearby.
Unless—
"He isn't trying to escape."
Kaelan finished quietly.
Arcturus nodded.
"No."
The old general's expression darkened.
"He's trying to finish something."
Hours later—
The city grew darker.
Snow continued falling.
Yet fewer and fewer fires remained.
Not because the fighting had ended.
Because Corven's soldiers were extinguishing them.
Systematically.
Relentlessly.
The commander was tightening his grip again.
District by district.
Street by street.
Like a hunter narrowing a trap.
Meanwhile—
Deep within the eastern quarter—
A lone figure moved through abandoned buildings.
Black cloak.
Dark hair.
Sharp eyes.
Lucien.
The son who should have been dead.
He climbed the stairs of an old merchant house overlooking the palace district.
From here—
The entire city was visible.
Velmora.
A city suffering because of men like him.
Because of men like Corven.
His jaw tightened.
Then footsteps echoed behind him.
Lucien didn't turn.
"I wondered how long it would take."
A woman emerged from the shadows.
Light armor.
A scar across her cheek.
Eyes hardened by war.
Commander Selene.
Former black banner officer.
Current traitor.
One of the few people who knew the truth.
"The city is collapsing," she said.
Lucien continued staring outside.
"It was already collapsing."
Silence.
Then Selene asked the question nobody else dared.
"Are you really going to kill him?"
The room became still.
For several moments—
Only the wind answered.
Finally—
Lucien spoke.
"I don't know."
That surprised even him.
Because for five years—
The answer had always been yes.
Kill Corven.
Destroy the man who ruined everything.
Destroy the father who chose duty over family.
Destroy the commander who let the past consume him.
Yet now—
Standing inside Velmora—
The certainty felt weaker.
More complicated.
Because hate was simple from a distance.
Reality never was.
Across the city—
Corven stood alone inside the palace war chamber.
Maps covered every table.
Reports covered every wall.
Yet his attention remained fixed on a single object.
An old wooden box.
Worn.
Scratched.
Ancient.
Slowly—
He opened it.
Inside rested a small wooden horse.
A child's toy.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The sight alone seemed to age him years.
Then the door opened.
An officer entered immediately.
"Commander."
Corven closed the box.
"What is it?"
"We found another safe house."
Silence.
"No sign of Lucien."
Corven nodded once.
Dismissed the officer.
Then stood alone again.
The mighty commander of the black banners.
The conqueror of Velmora.
The strategist who defeated entire armies.
And yet—
Tonight—
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
The kind of exhaustion that accumulated over decades.
Then quietly—
So quietly nobody else could hear—
He spoke into the empty room.
"Why did you come back?"
No answer came.
Only silence.
Far away—
Kaelan, Dren, and Arcturus descended from the watchtower.
The old general walked ahead.
Purposeful.
Focused.
Kaelan noticed immediately.
"You know where Lucien is."
Arcturus didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
Dren groaned.
"I hate when old men do that mysterious silence thing."
The general ignored him.
Eventually—
They reached the outskirts of the old northern district.
A place abandoned since the early days of the siege.
Ruined houses.
Collapsed walls.
Frozen streets.
And at its center—
A small shrine.
Ancient.
Forgotten.
Arcturus finally stopped walking.
"This is where they'll meet."
Kaelan looked around.
"How do you know?"
For the first time—
The Lion of the North looked sad.
Because he remembered.
"Because this is where it started."
The wind moved through the ruined district.
Snow drifted between broken stones.
Then—
A distant bell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Arcturus' expression changed instantly.
Fear.
Real fear.
"The signal."
Kaelan turned.
"What signal?"
The old general's eyes locked onto the distant palace.
And for the first time since his introduction—
His voice carried panic.
"Lucien found him."
Far across Velmora—
Inside the palace—
A lone figure stepped through the shattered window of Corven's private chamber.
Snow followed him inside.
Corven slowly looked up.
And froze.
Five years.
Five years since he had last seen that face.
Yet he recognized it immediately.
The eyes.
His mother's eyes.
"Lucien."
The son he believed dead stood before him.
Alive.
And holding a sword.
....
"No battlefield is more dangerous than the distance between a father and his son." ⚔️
If you enjoy this chapter, please add this book to your library. Your support helps me continue writing!
What do you think Lucien will do next? Will he kill Corven—or reveal the truth behind his disappearance five years ago? Comment your guess!