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The Broken Banner

Alex_3543
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
“They said only gods could survive the fire. I remember the heat first — the way it crawled under my skin, begging me to scream. The Coil called it “purification,” but all it did was teach me what dying felt like. Ten years later, they call me Solmere — a name from a life I barely remember. They see a noble heir returned from tragedy. They don’t see the boy the Coil left behind. They don’t see the god still whispering in my blood. They said the gods were silent. The Coil wanted to prove otherwise. They carved their symbols into our skin, said it would open heaven’s gate. It didn’t. It opened something older — something that burns and remembers. My Brand took root where my pulse beats. They said it was failure, then miracle. Now it’s the reason I’m still breathing when I shouldn’t be. The nobles pray to their gods. I dream of the one buried beneath them. And I think it’s still waiting for me to open the door again.” Six-year-old Lucen Solmere was stolen from his family and forged into a weapon by the secretive Coil, a faction that experiments on children to awaken divine and infernal powers. Branded with a sigil that binds him to a fallen god, he survived horrors no child should, becoming a living test of fire, pain, and forbidden magic. Ten years later, Lucen is returned to House Solmere, a noble family split between those who welcome him and those who see only a cursed relic. At sixteen, he must navigate the Imperial Academy of Armathis, training alongside nobles and scholarship students while hiding the truth of his corrupted Soulfire and the Brand that whispers with a god’s voice in his veins. As demonic rifts begin to tear through the Empire’s borders, Lucen discovers that the Coil’s work never truly ended. Now, he must confront enemies both mortal and divine, balance the fire within him, and decide if he will become the weapon they made him—or the savior the Empire never expected. Dark, gripping, and infused with magic, The Broken Banner is a tale of survival, family, and the dangerous line between humanity and godhood.
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Chapter 1 - Prelude — Shadows Over the Village

The village smelled of bread baking and wet earth. Summer sun painted the cobblestones gold, and for the first time in a long while, I felt the world was soft, safe. Mother's hand was warm in mine, her fingers curling around mine as we walked past the little fountain in the square. Father laughed at some joke I didn't understand, and I smiled because it made him smile.

We were on vacation, they had said, a break from the city. Just a few days in a quiet village where the streets were narrow and the rooftops red and slanted. No soldiers, no crowded markets, no crowds pressing in on every side. Just us.

I remember the ducks in the fountain, how they waddled toward me, quacking. I remember the smell of roasting meat from the baker's stall, sweet and salty. I remember thinking I was happy.

Then came the first shadow.

I didn't notice it at first — a movement at the edge of the square, like a trick of the sunlight. Then another. And another. Men, wearing masks that gleamed in the sun, moving quietly, deliberately, their eyes hidden behind dark lenses.

Mother's hand tightened around mine. Father stepped in front of me. Their laughter had vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, cold fear I didn't yet understand.

The world changed with the first scream.

Metal clanged, voices shouted in a language I didn't know. Fire cracked from torches, smoke curling in ribbons over the rooftops. I tried to run. I wanted to run. But someone's boot slammed into my small body, and the ground rose to meet me. Pain exploded across my skull, bright and unbearable, and the last thing I remember before darkness swallowed me was the feeling of my parents' hands slipping away.

When I woke, the village was gone. Smoke hung in the air, curling like black fingers. The streets were empty, the fountain dry. My parents… their faces floated in and out of my memory, blurred and fragile like reflections on water. I tried to call for them, but my voice was small and useless.

A cold, firm hand grabbed me. I struggled, screamed, but it was no use. They lifted me into the shadows and carried me away.

I was six.

And nothing would ever be the same.