Chapter 33 – The Council of Fractured Legends
The fortress of David, once a stronghold of wisdom and balance, now trembled under the weight of gathering titans. Inside the ancient stone halls, once sacred to strategy and peace, chaos brewed like a storm behind iron doors.
Generals who had once served Andreas and Andrew stood scattered across the war-table—voices raised, blades at their sides, eyes filled with old grudges and accusations.
"Your men burned my eastern supply lines during the first war!"
"And you think I forgot how your commander abandoned us during the siege of Whitevale?"
"You only came now because you're scared—scared of him!"
The table shook under fists. Tempers flared. Magic danced lightly in the air as enchantment runes glowed on armor and gauntlets, a silent threat of power ready to be unleashed.
But then—
BOOM.
A thunderous voice cut through the chamber like a divine blade.
"ENOUGH!"
David, once calm and serene, now stood at the head of the table, his sword drawn—not to attack, but to command attention. His eyes burned with a rare fury, his white cloak swirling as if the very air bowed to him.
"You all act like children. This isn't the time for petty rivalries or old wounds. We're facing something none of you—none of us—have the strength to stop alone!"
The room fell into stunned silence.
Just then, the great stone doors creaked open.
Kael, Green Wolf, Lira, and Alex entered the hall, the light of torches casting their shadows across the marble floor like ancient warriors returned from the dead.
Some generals stood in disbelief.
Others whispered.
"That's the boy…"
"Is that really Kael?"
"Green Wolf lives…"
David gestured toward them. "The last to arrive… but perhaps the most important among us."
He turned back to the war table and placed a map down—one that spanned not just Ashren, but the entire continent… and even the distant silhouettes of the other two continents of the world: Veldran to the south and Esh'arai to the west.
"This… is not just our fight anymore."
David's finger hovered over a dark circle spreading across the center of Ashren—the exact region where sightings of Andrew's berserk form had occurred. Cities leveled, armies turned to ash, whispers of a godlike figure cloaked in shadows.
"He is not just a man anymore," David said. "He is shadow, memory, and power incarnate. Immortal. Unaging. Unstoppable."
"And the worst part?" he added, eyes darkening. "He doesn't care anymore. If Esh'arai or Veldran sends armies, he'll wipe them out without blinking. We saw what he did in the capital during his final battle with Andreas. Multiply that by a thousand."
Some generals shifted uneasily.
"Do you mean to say… Andrew could destroy all three continents?" one finally asked.
David nodded slowly.
"If we don't unite now, if we don't set aside everything… the world we know will be reduced to ashes and legends. No more Dream Land. No more empires. No more hope."
Kael stepped forward, placing his hand on the table, next to the markings where Andrew had last been seen.
"Then we have to reach him," Kael said, voice steady. "Not as enemies… but as those who still believe that the man inside that shadow can be saved."
Lira looked at him with quiet pride.
David exhaled. "Then we begin tonight. The Alliance of Flame and Shadow is born now—not for conquest, but for salvation."
Around the table, slowly, one by one… the generals lowered their weapons, sheathed old hate, and gave the smallest of nods.