Chapter 2720: Story 2721: The Third Son

The tomb doors slammed shut.

The sound echoed through the chamber like a death sentence.

Ronan stared at the boy standing before the shattered coffin.

His face was young.

Too young.

Perhaps twelve years old.

Yet his eyes carried something ancient.

“Who are you?” Ronan demanded.

The boy smiled.

“You really don’t remember me.”

Ronan tightened his grip on his sword.

“I’ve never seen you.”

The boy’s smile faded.

“You were too young.”

Behind him, the enormous shadow moved.

Lyra raised her bow.

“Ronan, step back.”

The boy turned toward her.

“You’re afraid.”

“I’ve seen enough monsters to know when one is standing beside me.”

The boy laughed softly.

“I am not the monster.”

The shadow behind him growled.

The stone statues surrounding the tomb suddenly rose.

Hundreds of dead warriors lifted ancient weapons.

Kael raised his sword.

“Ronan!”

The army charged.

Lyra released an arrow.

It struck the first corpse in the eye, but the body continued running.

Ronan swung his sword.

Red energy exploded from the blade.

Three dead warriors were thrown across the chamber.

More came.

Kael fought beside Ronan, cutting through ancient armor.

His father stood behind them, staring at the boy.

“You survived.”

The boy looked at him.

“You knew.”

Ronan turned sharply.

“Father?”

His father stepped forward.

“I thought the First King had destroyed you.”

The boy’s expression hardened.

“He tried.”

Ronan froze.

“What are you talking about?”

The boy looked directly at him.

“My name is Aren Draven.”

Ronan’s heart stopped.

“Draven?”

Aren nodded.

“I am your brother.”

Ronan stared at him.

“I have one brother.”

“Elias.”

Aren’s eyes darkened.

“Yes.”

A loud roar shook the tomb.

The shadow behind Aren stepped forward.

Its body was enormous, covered in black armor and twisted flesh.

Two red eyes burned above a mouth filled with long teeth.

Kael recognized it.

“The First King’s Guardian.”

Aren shook his head.

“No.”

The creature lowered its head.

“It is my guardian.”

Ronan raised his sword.

“Why was I never told about you?”

Aren looked toward his father.

“Because they were afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Aren pointed at Ronan’s sword.

“Your blood.”

The red symbol on Ronan’s blade suddenly changed.

A second symbol appeared beside it.

Then a third.

The entire tomb began shaking.

Aren whispered:

“The three sons were never meant to live together.”

Ronan stared.

“Three?”

Aren nodded.

“Elias is the Second Son.”

He pointed toward Ronan.

“You are the First.”

Then he placed his hand against his chest.

“And I am the Third.”

A terrible silence followed.

Suddenly, Elias’s voice echoed from somewhere beyond the tomb.

“RONAN!”

Ronan turned.

The walls cracked.

Black smoke poured through the stone.

Elias appeared on the other side, his eyes glowing red.

Aren looked at him with hatred.

“You should have stayed dead.”

Elias smiled.

“And you should have remained buried.”

The shadow behind Aren roared.

The dead army fell to their knees.

Then the tomb shook violently.

A deep voice rose from beneath the floor.

“THREE SONS. ONE BLOOD. ONE MUST DIE.”

Ronan looked at Elias.

Then Aren.

His sword began glowing brighter than ever.

And somewhere beneath the tomb, something ancient opened its eyes.