The Thorne of Destiny-Chapter 140: Newas 6

They didn’t know what had gotten into Bella, but they didn’t dare question her. Instead, they raised their heads and decided to focus on other matters. They

Adrian looked up toward the jagged remains of the estate’s perimeter wall. A dozen figures worked across the estate now—cultivators, masons, and guards—moving under Bella’s watchful eye. They were few, but loyal. They weren’t rebuilding a palace. They were reawakening a legacy.

A sigh escaped Adrian’s lips. "It won’t be enough."

Bella stepped forward. "You took down the Raven Chain. You destroyed Julian’s soul construct. You even exposed City Lord Richard’s crimes to the inner court of the Vyre family. That gave us breathing room."

Adrian turned to her, voice low. "But they’re not gone. Richard’s still in power. The sects are still watching. The Bound Star marks me—and every faction in the Empire will come for it eventually."

Bella’s gaze sharpened. "Then we make them think twice."

She tossed him a rolled scroll.

Adrian caught it and unfurled it.

His brow furrowed. "A list?"

"Names," Bella said. "Of former Mistshroud sect branches. Rogue cultivators who once swore fealty. Hidden families scattered after the collapse. We find them. We bring them home."

Adrian’s eyes traced the parchment. Dozens of locations. Mountains. Ruins. Names half-remembered and half-lost.

"We’ll need strength," he murmured. "Resources. Allies."

"You have them," Bella said. "Or at least, you will."

Adrian looked at her. "Why are you still here, Bella?"

She didn’t flinch. "Because I believe in you."

Silence stretched between them. In the distance, the sun began to rise, casting faint gold over the mists. Somewhere within the halls of the estate, the cracked bell of the eastern watchtower tolled for the first time in fifty years.

The Shroud was stirring.

—

Stonehold – Council Tower

City Lord Richard stared down at the sealed report in his hand. Red wax. No crest.

He didn’t need to open it to know what it contained. The Vyre inner family had responded. The Raven Chain’s existence had been "disavowed." Julian’s name stricken from the City Records. The Obsidian Catacombs had collapsed. Their ritual chambers destroyed.

He was alone.

The door creaked open behind him.

A quiet voice spoke: "The Silent Council will not interfere—for now. They view it as internal rebellion."

Richard turned to see the cloaked man step inside—one of his oldest advisors, but whose name had long been forgotten even by Richard himself.

"They won’t help, but they won’t stop you either," the advisor added.

"And Adrian?"

"Growing stronger. He’s begun recruiting. If he consolidates the remnants of the Mistshroud Sect, he’ll be more than just a nuisance."

Richard crushed the report in his fist.

"Then we’ll burn the roots before they take hold."

He turned toward the wall behind him—where the crest of Stonehold’s ruling family was carved into black marble.

"Summon the Dust Order."

The advisor hesitated. "They haven’t been used in decades."

"They’ll be used now."

—

Mistshroud Estate – The Burial Hall

That evening, Adrian stood in a stone chamber beneath the estate, where ancient coffins lay in rows. At the far end of the hall stood a statue—twenty feet tall—of a woman clad in battle robes, mist curling around her marble limbs.

The First Matron of the Mistshroud Sect.

Adrian knelt before her.

The silence was deep, reverent.

He reached into his robe and withdrew a box.

Inside lay the last remaining soul talisman of his mother—Natasha of the House of Thorne. She’d hidden it away before the slaughter. It had survived the years buried beneath the estate.

He placed it before the statue.

"I don’t know what comes next," he said softly. "But I swear... your sacrifice won’t be for nothing."

Behind him, the mist gathered gently. Not as a weapon. Not as armor.

But as kin.

—

Meanwhile – Western Wastes

A caravan moved along the base of the Whispering Dunes, guarded by mercenaries and wandering cultivators. Dust swirled with each step, masking the sunlight and scratching against every surface.

Inside the largest cart, a woman stirred.

She was old—older than she looked—with snow-white hair and a sword sealed in black cloth resting at her side. Her eyes opened slowly, like she hadn’t used them in a hundred years.

A message jade glowed on the table before her.

She pressed her hand against it.

A voice played:

"This is Bella Vyre. To the exiled remnants of Mistshroud. Adrian Thorne lives. The Sect rises again."

The old woman closed her eyes.

Then she stood.

Outside the cart, the wind screamed across the desert.

But the mist had found its way even here.

—

Mistshroud Estate – Training Grounds

The clang of metal rang through the air.

Jayson stumbled, parried, then countered with a quick thrust. His sparring partner, a stocky cultivator from the southern branch, deflected and nodded in approval.

"You’re improving," he said.

Jayson grinned through bruised lips. "Pain makes for a great teacher."

At the edge of the yard, Olivia watched, arms crossed. She still bore faint scratches from the attack, but her eyes were sharper now. Older.

Behind her, Storm was napping in the sun, silver wings twitching.

Bella approached. "You should train too."

Olivia shook her head. "I want to learn formations. Not swords."

Bella raised a brow. "That’s even harder."

"I don’t care," Olivia said. "If they come again, I want to do more than scream."

Bella smiled faintly. "Good."

—

Midnight – Adrian’s Chambers

Adrian couldn’t sleep.

The Bound Star pulsed like a second heartbeat, its hum growing stronger each day. He could feel something deeper inside it—something he hadn’t yet unlocked. A sealed core, perhaps. A memory.

He sat cross-legged and began to meditate.

The room dimmed.

His spiritual sea expanded, stretching into a vast mist-wrapped realm. Within it, stars pulsed like fireflies, each one a spark of insight, of potential. But in the far distance, beyond the reach of his current strength, a larger light pulsed—hidden behind layers of chains and fog.

He reached toward it.

A voice echoed from the core.

"You carry our sins... and our salvation."

Adrian gasped and opened his eyes.

The mist around him rippled.

Whatever the Bound Star truly was—it wasn’t just a weapon.

It was a legacy.

And legacies were meant to be fulfilled.

— 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Final Scene – A Distant Summit

A man in crimson robes stood atop a cliff far to the north, gazing into a pool of shadowed water. In its depths, the image of Adrian—glowing with starlight and mist—rippled faintly.

A second figure stepped beside him. This one wore no face. Only a mirrored mask.

"The Bound Star has awakened."

The man nodded. "The Shroud stirs again. And with it... the chains we once broke begin to reform."

The masked figure tilted its head. "Shall we intervene?"

"Not yet. Let the boy gather his strength. Let him believe."

"And then?"

The man’s eyes gleamed with unnatural fire.

"Then we remind the world why the heavens once burned."

The morning sun rose blood-red over Stonehold.

Its light fell on ruined temples, fractured towers, and scorched rooftops—the aftermath of the collapse still visible across the Temple District. Patrols cordoned off the streets, guards whispering of curses and spirits. But beneath it all, the silence was the loudest voice. Not a word from the Council. Not a declaration from the City Lord.

As if everyone was waiting.

Waiting to see who would speak first.

Waiting to see who still had the right.

Adrian stood alone on the high balcony of the eastern wing of the Thorne estate, gazing out at the city. The wind stirred his robes, carrying faint traces of mist with it. His hair, longer now than it had ever been, fluttered in the breeze as his thoughts stirred like a storm behind his calm eyes.

Behind him, footsteps.

"You’ve barely slept," Bella said, stepping into view. Her spear rested against her back, her hair tied up in a warrior’s knot.

"I couldn’t," Adrian replied. "There’s too much to do."

"The catacombs are gone," she said. "Julian is gone. You crushed the Raven Chain. You gave the souls peace. That’s more than anyone could’ve done."

"It’s not enough," he said quietly. "Richard’s still alive. The Council is still corrupt. And there’s still someone else—someone in the dark."

Bella didn’t speak for a while. Then: "The elder with the glowing green eyes."

Adrian nodded. "I didn’t recognize him. But I felt his aura. Rotten. Older than Richard. Maybe older than the city."

"You think there’s a deeper power behind all this?"

"I know there is." His hand clenched. "Julian was arrogant and cruel, but he was a pawn. Someone’s been cultivating this corruption for a long time."

Bella stepped to the balcony’s edge. "What do we do?"

Adrian turned to her. "We rebuild. But not just the Mistshroud Sect."

He pointed east, beyond the city’s walls, where the mountains loomed.

"We gather the scattered. The ruined sects, the lost legacies, the wanderers. Those who have no place. We make a place."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "You’re talking about a movement."

"I’m talking about a storm."

Later that day, in the lower quarters of the Thorne estate, Olivia sat cross-legged with Storm curled at her side. The tiger cub’s wounds had mostly healed, but his growls were quieter, more watchful. Olivia’s hand rested gently between his ears as she listened to Elder Laen—a former Mistshroud alchemist who’d survived the fall by vanishing into hermitage.