The sun broke across Stonecross, catching on rows of men and women moving in rhythm. Shields made of cart wood locked edge to edge. Farm tools gleamed where hammer and fire had shaped them into blades. Their boots struck the dirt in unison, each breath rising and falling with the next.
Refugees stood at the side of the road, whispering as the line passed.
Eda leaned close to her friend, voice low but full of wonder.
"Look at them, Tira… they're not a mob anymore. Not scattered, not running. They move like soldiers. Listen—their chests rise together, every one of them. I never thought I'd see this here."
Tira hugged her shawl tighter, eyes wide.
"They were farmers a week ago. Farmers and runaways. Now the rows don't break, not even when Brenn drives them hard. It's the books… the Bloomscript keeps them in step."
At the square's edge, Joran crossed his arms, soot streaking his skin from the forge. His nod was slow, firm.
"I've hammered men into shape before, same as iron, but never like this. Steel bends slow, needs a beating before it holds. This book… shapes them faster than any hammer I ever swung."
Brenn's voice cut sharp over the line.
"Shields high. Tools forward. Don't break step, not now."
The rows tightened, moving as one.
Then the beasts joined.
Stonehide walked at the front, its plated hide catching the sun. Each step made the ground tremble. Beside it, the Rhino stamped and tossed its head, snorting with pride as if daring the world to strike. Feyra slid behind them, blossoms glowing faint with each breath, petals drifting like embers through the ranks.
High above, the Raven wheeled, eyes sharp on the horizon. And for the first time, even the freed Servitors moved without chain or rod. They matched pace with the line, their weight heavy but their stride unbroken.
Sana pointed with trembling fingers, voice barely a whisper.
"They walk with us… beasts walking with men, and not one chain on them. Not one."
Marrek shook his head, staring hard.
"Servitors without rods scatter. Always have. But look—look at them. They keep step like they've drilled their whole lives."
Kerr tilted his chin upward at the Raven circling overhead, a grin breaking through.
"And the bird—it's not circling wild anymore. It's holding above us like a scout. That's no chance. It knows its place."
Mira drew closer to Draven, her words soft as Feyra's blossoms brushed her arm.
"They breathe together now, beasts and men. Even the ones who feared each other at the start—they match each step. I didn't think it was possible."
Draven's eyes stayed on the line. His answer was calm, plain.
"They chose. That's why they stand."
The sky shifted.
No cloud moved, but the light dimmed as if the air itself bowed. Wind fell flat. The Raven gave a cry, sharp as steel on stone, and the unseen book flared with sudden fire.
Eda clutched Tira's arm, her voice breaking.
"The Raven—look at it! The sky bends around it. Do you see?"
The bird's wings stretched, wider and wider, sparks racing along each feather. The air shook with every beat.
Tira's breath hitched.
"It's growing, Eda. Gods, it's growing bigger than a house. Every wingbeat burns the air itself."
The Raven screamed again, but now the sound carried thunder. Lightning cracked out from its wings, tearing the sky open. A crown of stormlight blazed above its head.
Sana stumbled back, clutching her shawl, her voice shaking.
"Lightning crowns it. That's no Noble. That's a King."
On a ridge, two Dominion scouts froze, the stormlight burning their faces. One whispered fast, as if afraid the words might scorch his tongue.
"Our rods will shatter against that. No handler can bind a crowned beast. He commands a King."
The Codex burned brighter, a page opening in fire for all to see. Runes etched themselves, sharp and perfect:
🦅 Zor, Crown of Lightning
Status: King
Bond: Willing
Sovereign Strike — a lightning-charged dive that detonates across entire enemy formations.
Storm Crown (Passive) — arcs of storm circle above him; shackler rods spark and fail, Dominion beasts panic in range.
Voice of Thunder — thunderous shriek disrupts handler focus, disorients servitors, rallies allies.
Chainbreaker's Bond — storm-energy flows into Draven; his sword wreathed in lightning arcs, able to shatter shackles and rods with a single swing.
Notes: First Codex beast to rise into King-tier. Scarred still from the Magma Drake's strike.
The letters glowed and stilled.
Marrek's jaw slackened. "It wrote him… the page names him, crowns him, plain as steel."
Sana's hands trembled against her shawl. "Not rumor, not tale. The book itself says he's a King."
Kerr's voice rang, almost a shout. "No rod holds him, no chain. The Codex holds him—and still, he bows."
The Raven stooped once, lowering its crowned head. Lightning leapt from its wings and poured into the steel in Draven's hand. The Chainbreaker's sword crackled alive with storm, arcs snapping along its edge.
A gasp ran through the crowd.
"His blade—lightning runs in it. He carries storm in his hand now."
Marrek spoke again, voice low, reverent.
"A King walks with him now. Not a rumor. Not a tale to frighten children. A King in truth."
Mira looked at Draven, her breath quick.
"They'll call you more than Chainbreaker now."
Brenn's gravel voice cut through the stormlight.
"Call him what you want. Titles won't hold a line. What matters is the beast bows—and the line stands firmer under it. That's all."
The storm thinned, thunder rolling into distance. The ranks reformed, men and beasts steady again. Feyra's blossoms drifted like sparks across shoulders and shields, settling on hair, steel, and hide alike.
Tira leaned into Eda, whispering with awe.
"They march under a King's shadow now. Doesn't matter what they call it—it feels like history turning."
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