Lord of Deception

A Throne Built on Shadows

Kael had fought too hard, manipulated too precisely, and destroyed too completely to let some ghost unravel his empire.

The nobles whispered. The soldiers hesitated. The people looked toward the horizon with hope—the most dangerous weapon in any rebellion.

This had to end now.

Seated on his throne, Kael's mind sharpened like a blade.

He turned to General Voren, his most trusted commander. "How many men have defected?"

Voren hesitated, and that was already an answer.

"Several battalions, my lord," he admitted. "They speak of Lucian's return. They say he walks among them, untouched by death."

Kael's fingers tapped against the armrest. "And what do you believe?"

Voren clenched his jaw. "I believe the dead should stay dead."

"And yet, they don't."

Kael's voice was calm, but a storm brewed behind his eyes.

He had played this game long enough to know when an unseen hand was moving pieces against him.

This wasn't Lucian.

Lucian was dead.

Burned. Crushed. Buried beneath the weight of Kael's ambition.

This was a player in the dark. Someone who understood the power of symbols.

A deception.

And deceptions were Kael's specialty.

Selene's Guilt

Selene watched Kael from across the chamber.

He looked the same—cold, unreadable, a king who had taken the world by force and cunning.

And yet, something was different.

For the first time, she saw something he hated showing.

Doubt.

It was a small crack, but even the smallest crack could shatter an empire.

She swallowed.

She had chosen this path. She had chosen him.

And yet, when she saw that silver-clad knight standing beneath the moon…

For the first time, she questioned if she had made the right choice.

Did Lucian truly return?

Or was this her own guilt manifesting as a specter?

The March of the Silver Phantom

At the edge of the kingdom, a man clad in silver rode through the night.

His presence was enough to make armies kneel.

He wore Lucian's colors, bore Lucian's insignia, and carried Lucian's sword.

But he was not Lucian.

No one knew his face. No one knew his name.

But they believed.

And belief was stronger than any army.

A peasant kneeled before him. "You have returned, my lord. We always knew you would."

The knight did not respond.

He simply rode forward.

And behind him, an army formed.

An army ready to reclaim the kingdom from Kael Ardyn.

Kael's Next Move

Kael had ruled through manipulation, strategy, and fear.

But now, the board had shifted.

This wasn't just a war.

This was a legend being written in real-time.

Lucian's ghost had become an idea.

And ideas could not be killed with a blade.

Kael leaned forward on his throne. "We will not waste time chasing a phantom."

Voren frowned. "Then what is our move, my lord?"

Kael smiled—a cruel, calculated smile.

"If they want a ghost…"

His fingers curled around the armrest.

"…then I will show them what true nightmares look like."

The War for the Throne Begins

Kael Ardyn was no fool.

He had conquered this kingdom once.

And he would do it again.

The question was—who was pulling the strings?

Because whoever they were…

They had just made a mistake.

They had made Kael interested.

And when Kael was interested, blood always followed.

To be continued.....