Chapter 2736: Story 2737: The Birthplace

The mountains shook behind them.

Ronan ran through the narrow valley, Lyra beside him, while Elias and Aren followed close behind.

Behind them came the dead.

Thousands.

Then millions.

Their footsteps sounded like thunder.

“Faster!” Kael shouted.

Ronan looked over his shoulder.

The First King stood far behind them, watching.

He was not chasing.

That frightened Ronan more than anything.

“He is letting us run,” Ronan said.

Kael nodded.

“He wants us to reach the birthplace.”

Aren suddenly stopped.

Ronan grabbed his arm.

“Keep moving!”

Aren shook his head.

“I can hear something.”

“What?”

“Children.”

Everyone froze.

The dead continued approaching in the distance.

Aren closed his eyes.

“Thousands of them.”

Elias looked at him.

“Where?”

Aren pointed toward the mountain.

“Under there.”

Kael stared at the mountain.

“That is impossible.”

Ronan looked at him.

“You know this place?”

Kael slowly nodded.

“I have seen the mountain before.”

“When?”

“Long before you were born.”

Lyra raised her bow.

“What is hidden here?”

Kael did not answer.

Ronan stepped closer.

“Kael.”

The old warrior looked into his eyes.

“This was once called the Cradle of Blood.”

Aren whispered:

“The birthplace.”

Kael nodded.

“The first bloodline was created here.”

Ronan’s sword began glowing.

The red symbol on its blade pulsed like a heartbeat.

Then Elias’s black veins began glowing.

Aren’s silver eyes brightened.

Three different lights appeared together.

The mountain suddenly opened.

A massive stone doorway emerged from the rock.

Ancient symbols covered its surface.

At the center were three handprints.

One red.

One black.

One silver.

Ronan stared.

“Those are ours.”

Kael stepped backward.

“No.”

Ronan looked at him.

“What?”

Kael’s voice trembled.

“They were made before you were born.”

The dead reached the valley.

Lyra fired an arrow.

A corpse fell.

Ten more replaced it.

“We need to get inside,” she shouted.

Ronan placed his hand against the red symbol.

Elias placed his hand against the black one.

Aren touched the silver.

The mountain roared.

The stone doors opened.

Cold air rushed outward.

Inside was a gigantic chamber.

At its center stood three stone cradles.

Ronan slowly walked toward them.

Each cradle contained an ancient symbol.

First.

Second.

Third.

Aren stared at the third.

“I remember this.”

Ronan turned.

“You were here?”

Aren shook his head.

“No.”

He touched his forehead.

“I remember being here.”

Elias stepped toward the second cradle.

His expression changed.

“I remember the fire.”

Ronan looked at him.

“What fire?”

“The night our village burned.”

Aren suddenly screamed.

The chamber filled with whispers.

Images appeared across the walls.

Three babies.

Three mothers.

Three different cradles.

And behind them stood the First King.

Ronan watched in horror.

“He didn’t create us.”

Kael whispered.

“No.”

Ronan looked at him.

“Then who did?”

Kael’s eyes filled with fear.

Before he could answer, a fourth image appeared.

A woman stood behind the three mothers.

The Mother.

But she was holding something in her arms.

A fourth child.

Ronan stepped closer.

“There were four?”

The image turned toward him.

The child opened his eyes.

They were completely black.

A voice echoed through the chamber.

“The Fourth Son was never meant to survive.”

The doors slammed shut.

Outside, the dead stopped moving.

Then the First King spoke from beyond the stone.

“But he did.”