The Dying Arcane

The city of Velmora was nothing but ruins, but Ronan Vale had no time to mourn the dead. The bodies of the enforcers lay sprawled behind him, their blood soaking into the cracked pavement. The air was thick with smoke, but the battle wasn't over.

He needed answers.

His body ached, his wounds still bleeding, but he forced himself to move. The Brotherhood of the Arcane had been betrayed, wiped out from within. Someone had sold them out, and Ronan was going to find out who.

He knelt beside the enforcer leader's corpse, searching his armor. His fingers found a metal insignia embedded in the chest plate—a black sun, the symbol of the Dominion Order. A faction of warlords and rulers who had long sought the destruction of magic.

The ones who profited from the end of the arcane.

Ronan clenched his jaw. He had fought the Dominion before, but something about this attack was different. The Brotherhood had always been hunted, but this massacre had been precise—as if the Dominion knew exactly where they would be, exactly when to strike.

A betrayal from the inside.

A sharp crack echoed through the alley. Ronan spun, blade raised.

A figure stood in the shadows. A woman, clad in black with a hood pulled over her face. She held a dagger, but she made no move to attack. Her emerald-green eyes locked onto him, filled with something he couldn't quite read—pity, regret, or perhaps warning.

"You're alive," she said, voice smooth but cautious.

Ronan tightened his grip on his sword. "Who the hell are you?"

The woman hesitated, then stepped forward, lowering her dagger slightly. "A friend… or the closest thing you have left."

Ronan's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't answer my question."

She sighed. "I was sent to find survivors. Seems like you're the only one."

Ronan didn't relax. "Who sent you?"

A pause. Then, finally:

"The Forsaken."

His blood ran cold.

The Forsaken Brotherhood. The hidden faction that operated in the shadows, formed by outcasts—exiled sorcerers, rogue warriors, and those who had long been abandoned by the world. They had no allegiance to any kingdom or order. Only survival.

Ronan had heard whispers of them before. A myth more than reality.

And yet, one of them stood before him now.

"They know what happened," the woman continued. "They know someone in the Brotherhood betrayed you."

Ronan's grip on his sword tightened. He stepped closer, voice low. "Who?"

The woman exhaled, watching him carefully. "Come with me, and you'll get your answers."

Ronan didn't trust her. But right now, trust didn't matter.

Only vengeance did.

With one last look at the burning city, he followed her into the darkness.

The hunt had begun.

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