The Shattered Oath

A novel of betrayal, prophecy, and a world on the brink of ruin.

Prologue: The Oath is Broken

The sky bled fire the night the oath was shattered.

In the ruins of the fallen kingdom of Iskaroth, where statues of gods lay crumbled and forgotten, a lone figure knelt before an ancient monolith. The stone pulsed with unnatural energy, veins of violet light creeping through its cracks. A whisper curled through the air, neither male nor female, neither alive nor dead.

"Do you swear?"

The kneeling figure shuddered. Beneath the hood of their midnight cloak, a mask gleamed, smooth and featureless. Their hands trembled over a dagger carved from the bones of something long buried beneath the world.

"Do you swear?" the whisper repeated.

The masked figure hesitated.

The dagger hovered over their palm. Blood would seal the pact.

For centuries, the Silent Tribunal had maintained balance, delivering judgment in the shadows. But tonight, one of their own had come to betray that oath.

A deep breath. A final moment of hesitation.

Then, with a sharp inhale, the figure pressed the blade into their palm.

The monolith pulsed. Shadows erupted from its core, twisting through the air like tendrils of living night. The ground trembled. In the distance, the first screams began.

A seal, unbroken for a thousand years, shattered.

Something woke beneath the ruins.

And the world would never be the same.

Chapter 1: Dreams of Ash

Lirien woke gasping, her body drenched in sweat.

The dream again. No, not a dream—a warning.

She had stood in a burning city, the sky dark with smoke, a blade in her hand. A man had knelt before her, cloaked in the robes of the Veil of Ash. His eyes had been empty, his lips forming words she could not hear. But she had felt it.

Felt herself plunge the blade into his heart.

Now, awake in the dim candlelight of her chamber, she pressed trembling fingers to her forehead. The visions were getting stronger. More vivid.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, heart pounding. Outside, the city of Vaelith slumbered beneath the moon's pale glow, unaware that its peace was a fragile illusion.

A knock at her door.

Lirien tensed. It was past midnight. No one should be calling.

She reached for the knife beneath her pillow as the knock came again—this time, softer. Insistent.

"Lirien," a voice murmured.

A voice she recognized.

She moved quickly, unlatching the door. On the other side stood Varian, his silver eyes sharp as a blade in the dim light. The man once called a hero—now a traitor.

"We need to leave," he said, voice low. "They're coming for you."

Her breath caught.

The dream had been a warning. And now, it was coming true.