NOVEL NEXT Vol 3. Chapter 5: Uphold That Promise
Lukas tore through the palace corridors, every step shaking the marble floors. The Draconic Flow burned through his veins, shaping his body into a more compact, humanoid frame—but the transformation still left him with taloned hands, scaled forearms, and a jawline edged with horn-like ridges. His full draconic form would have splintered the palace walls in seconds; this was the only way to move quickly without bringing the ceiling down on everyone's heads.
Jesse ran alongside him, silent but tense, the sound of their boots and claws hammering against the stone; the winds from the young dragonborn's own Divinity boosting him forward.
By the time they reached Magnus' quarters, the fight was already over.
The great oak doors to Magnus' private chamber lay shattered against the walls, hinges twisted like paper. The air reeked of scorched parchment and the faint metallic tang of blood. Magnus Elarion stood in the wreckage, his robes torn and his chest heaving. The Dragon Lord's instincts flared, and Lukas closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, catching the old man's arm as his knees shook. Magnus looked as though the battle had stolen years from him but Lukas quickly realized that it was the King of Easthaven who stood victorious.
The corpse sprawled across the floor wore the remnants of mage robes marked with the sigil of the Magic Tower. Recognition struck Lukas like a blow—it was one of the Archmages, Vaelith of the Mind.
Vaelith's chest had been caved in, his eyes frozen in shock, as though the end had come too quickly for fear to register. The Archmage had been sponsored by the Church and it was clear now where his loyalties truly lay. Vaelith must have come to put an end to Magnus' life, to truly allow Nozar's invasion of Easthaven to proceed without any hiccups.
But Vaelith had underestimated what Magnus Elarion was capable of, even in his old age.
When the dust had settled, it was the Archmage who would end up losing his life. It was a gruesome, final end to a long and illustrious career and the fight had lasted only seconds.
Many today knew Magnus Elarion as the frail Head Mage, the scholar whose inventions had shaped the tools of every human kingdom; a genius whose intellect far surpassed any who had come before him. They knew him as the Founder of the Magic Tower, known best for his inventions of crystalline technology and how magic could be harnessed through it; improving the lives of millions.
But those who had lived as long a life that Magnus had would remember what he was capable of.
This was the same Magnus Elarion who had stood beside Daerion Ittriki in the war against Khaitish, the man whose storms and thunder had turned the tide against the beastkin army when Easthaven and Nozar stood on the edge of ruin.
It had not been Daerion alone who had won that war.
In fact, it was Magnus who had defeated the Conqueror of Khaitish in single combat; putting an end to that conflict once and for all.
But Magnus was not the same warrior he had once been, for time spared no man.
The strain of this fight showed in the stiffness of Magnus's breath, in the way his hand gripped Lukas's arm with quiet urgency. Only when Magnus' gaze shifted—to see Rosalia, safe in Jesse's arms, her breathing steady—did relief soften his features. The old king exhaled as if a weight had been lifted, murmuring his thanks to the young dragonborn who still carried her in his arms. As relieved as Magnus was, the old man recognized that there was no time to waste. His voice was rough when he ordered both Lukas and Jesse to follow him, "To the throne room. Now."
The corridors to the throne room stretched ahead, lit only by the flicker of torches.
As they walked, Lukas let the Crown's power unfurl. His mind brushed against Magnus's, and in an instant, memories surged through the connection that had been formed between them—fragments of the chaos that had unfolded, the truths that Lukas had uncovered through Vault 56, pieces of a puzzle that painted a picture of the reality that Easthaven was now facing.
Magnus was silent for a long time.
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His gaze kept drifting toward Rosalia, still nestled in Jesse's arms, her face calm, her breathing steady. Whatever Celina had given to her was potent; she might remain unconscious for many hours to come. What mattered most, however, was that his granddaughter was still alive and well.
Lukas broke the silence as they finally entered the throne room, closing the door behind them. "Magnus. We can still win this fight. Not all is lost." His voice was steady, almost defiant. "We are not going anywhere. We will fight for Easthaven."
Jesse nodded without hesitation. Nozar's military force was the strongest in all of the Kingdoms of Hiraeth and Daerion had brought a considerable force with him; including his most high-ranking marine officers. But Easthaven's army was no meager thing, this Kingdom could stand its ground against it. But Magnus only shook his head.
The old man's steps slowed, and his sigh seemed to weigh down the air.
"Do you remember the promise you made to me," Magnus asked the Dragon Lord, "the first time we met?"
"Of course," Lukas said without hesitation. It was a promise that he would keep till his dying breath. It was a promise he had made to Magnus Elarion to keep Rosalia safe, no matter what.
"Then it is time to uphold that promise, my boy. And uphold it like never before." Magnus's eyes hardened, though there was a glimmer of pain beneath. "Rosalia is more than just my granddaughter now. She is a symbol—one the people of Easthaven look to for hope. She is the future of this Kingdom, Lukas, the one who will inherit all I have built."
Lukas frowned. "What are you trying to say, old man?"
"You must leave at once." Magnus finally declared. "Take Rosalia far from here. And away from Daerion and this war that he has now brought upon this Kingdom. He knows what she's capable of. And he will stop at nothing to get his hands on her. You have Varian's records, you can discover exactly what he plans to do with it, find out why he wants Rosalia's power. You can still stop him before it is too late, Lukas."
"We can stop him right here and now," Lukas pressed, refusing to even consider what Magnus was telling him to do. "We can fight against this together, old man."
Magnus gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And can you guarantee Rosalia's safety if she stays?"
Lukas felt the answer lodge in his throat.
He could not.
As long as Rosalia remained here, she would be in danger.
But the thought of leaving Easthaven behind while it fought against this invasion gnawed at Lukas.
His claws flexed, his voice tight. "We can't just walk away, old man. We can't leave these people to fend for themselves."
The old king chuckled—not mockingly, but with the weary amusement of a man who had lived long enough to know where his path ended. "I am afraid you are mistaken, my boy. There is no we. I am not leaving Easthaven behind. But you will be. And you will be taking Rosalia with you." Magnus said with a sad smile that broke his heart.
Lukas opened his mouth to argue, but Magnus lifted a hand; silencing him before he could argue against it.
"Lukas. This is not your fight." Magnus insisted firmly. "You are a Dragon Lord of Linemall. Your first and final duty is to your people. You owe me nothing. You owe Easthaven nothing. You have already done more for me—for this nation and its people—than I could ever have asked. You have made the last years of my life…more meaningful than I could have ever hoped them to be."
The old man's eyes shifted to Jesse. "And you. You are the Head of the Merchant Guild now. Your men have entrusted their lives to you. They are still here in Easthaven and their lives are in danger because of this battle. Their lives are in your hands. Protect them. Leave while you still can."
Magnus stepped closer to both of them, lowering his voice. "What you both can do—what you must do for me—is keep my granddaughter safe. And you must make sure that Varian's efforts do not go to waste. Do you understand me? We may lose this battle to Daerion. But we cannot lose this war."
Outside, the clash of steel and the roar of men drew nearer. The sounds were no longer distant; the palace itself trembled with each blow. The invaders had breached the palace grounds now and it would be seconds before they arrived at this room.
Magnus turned toward the echoing noise, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "This is the end of the line for me, my boy. Time has finally caught up with me. This life…it has been one that I am grateful to have had. So many regrets…but so many things to be proud of."
Lukas let out a shaky breath, smiling as Magnus glanced lovingly towards Rosalia; one last look of adoration to the girl who he loved more than anything in this world.
"I will not go gently into that good night. I will rage against the dying of the light. I am Easthaven's King. And my duty is to my people. This may not be your fight, but it is mine. And I will fight until my last breath."
Magnus straightened, and for a heartbeat Lukas saw him not as the weary old man, but as the legend whispered in old war songs.
"Let them come," Magnus whispered. "Let me remind this world why they once called me the King of Lightning."