Chapter 8 : The Storm Before the Fire
Chapter 8 : The Storm Before the Fire
The next morning, the house felt… wrong.
Darius stood in the hallway, arms folded, gaze sharp. His eyes followed the maid as she scrubbed furiously at the floorboards, the scent of iron heavy in the air.
“Blood,” he muttered, voice like gravel.
The maid flinched, trembling as she tried to clean faster.
Selene appeared behind him, calm, composed. “A noble from Greythorne paid us a visit yesterday,” she said simply.
Greythorne. The neighboring city. Always sniffing at Valemont lands like carrion crows.
Darius’ frown deepened. “And?”
Selene didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she moved past him, entering our room. She knelt by my cradle, brushing my cheek with her hand. Her smile was soft, but her eyes… her eyes burned.
“Take care of Rooga for a while,” she said, voice gentle but steady.
Darius turned, suspicion flashing in his gaze. “…Where are you going?”
Selene kissed my forehead, lingering for a heartbeat. When she pulled back, her smile had hardened into something sharp.
“I have something to take care of.”
Darius’ hand tightened on his sword hilt. “Selene—”
But she was already moving, cloak swirling as she crossed the doorway.
The air seemed heavier the moment she left, like the house itself knew what was about to happen.
I lay still in the cradle, HUD flickering faintly in the corner of my vision.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
[Warning: High-level mana disturbance detected nearby.]
Mother wasn’t going to argue. She wasn’t going to negotiate.
She was going to destroy Greythorne.
[Selene perspective]
The road to Greythorne was quiet. Too quiet.
Selene walked alone, her cloak fluttering against the cold wind. Every step echoed with the weight of her fury, her mana stirring like thunderclouds above the horizon.
Once, she had sworn never to use that power again. To put away the crown of the Archmage and live quietly as Selene Valemont—wife, mother.
But last night, a noble of Greythorne laughed at her children. Dared to mock her daughter. Threatened her son.
And that was a line she would never allow crossed.
By the time she reached the gates, the guards had already noticed the pressure. They stumbled back, hands shaking on their spears.
“M–Madam Selene—” one stammered, voice cracking.
She didn’t slow her steps. Her voice was ice.
“Tell your lords their time is up.”
The ground trembled. Her mana surged outward, a tidal wave invisible but undeniable.
Torches flickered and died in the streets.
Citizens staggered, clutching their chests as air thickened like lead.
Within minutes, the city square was flooded with nobles, guards, and courtiers, their faces pale.
“Selene Valemont,” one of the higher lords barked, feigning courage. “Do you intend to make war against Greythorne?!”
Her eyes burned like twin stars. She raised her hand, the air around her twisting, folding.
“War?” Her voice shook the stones themselves. “No.”
The lord’s face flickered with relief—just before the weight of her magic slammed him to his knees. His bones cracked audibly as invisible gravity crushed him.
“I am not here for war,” Selene said, her tone calm, steady, merciless.
The square darkened. The cobblestones shuddered.
“I am here for judgment.”
She clenched her fist. The ground screamed as gravity collapsed, pulling buildings inward.
Walls buckled, spires toppled, screams filled the air.
Stone exploded into dust as Greythorne folded in on itself.
Those who ran found their bodies pinned, pressed flat against the ground as though the world itself had turned against them.
Nobles wailed, guards begged, and the people cried out prayers—but none reached her ears.
For Selene saw only the image of her children.
Their innocence. Their future. Their safety.
And she would destroy anyone who threatened that.
When the dust finally cleared, Greythorne was no longer a city. Only a crater remained, smoking and broken, carved into the earth as though by the fist of a god.
Selene stood at its center, her breathing calm, her eyes wet with silent tears.
“…For my children,” she whispered to the wind.
Then she turned and walked away, leaving behind only ruin and fear.
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