The Thorne of Destiny-Chapter 145: Newas 11

Chapter: The Shattered Circle

The memory trembled as chaos erupted within the temple.

Black flame poured like liquid shadow through the ornate windows, eating away at stone and wood alike. Where once the sacred Mistshroud chant echoed, now there was only the shrieking of wounded disciples and the roar of unnatural fire.

Adrian stood frozen—not physically, but as a presence within the vision. The moment was not his to alter, only witness. And yet he felt the heat of the flame, the despair that crashed through the temple like a tidal wave.

Aurelia didn’t flinch.

Her robes whipped around her as the eruption tore into the rear sanctum. She turned, raising both hands high, and the Bound Star sigil flared above her, pulsing with radiant light.

"Form the circle!" she cried.

Disciples scrambled into position around her, their faces pale, some already burnt, robes torn. Elders barked commands. Qi surged as they activated the ancient formation carved into the floor—a rotating diagram of stars and mist, sealing lines inlaid with gold.

But something was wrong.

A second pulse erupted from the flame—this one colder, deeper. Not fire, but void.

From the sundered wall emerged a figure shrouded in an imperial robe—black with a crimson sash, a golden serpent coiled around his left arm. His face was veiled, but his presence sent tremors through the Qi of the temple.

Aurelia turned toward him, fury and recognition flashing in her eyes. "You."

He raised a hand.

The fire split. From its depths crawled them—constructs not unlike those Adrian had fought at Southwatch, but older. Cruder. Built with the bodies of fallen disciples, stitched by will and brand, not merely spirit thread. Their eyes glowed with branded glyphs.

"You betrayed us," Aurelia said, voice low with heartbreak.

The masked man’s voice echoed like a hollow bell. "You saw too far. And the Bound Star sees too much."

The formation below Aurelia flickered.

"Hold it!" she ordered.

The younger disciples wavered but obeyed. Lines of power danced between them. The Bound Star rose again, spinning faster, carving into the air a vortex of mist and starlight.

Adrian felt the pull.

It wasn’t just memory anymore. He was being drawn into the formation’s echo. He could feel the Bound Star inside him reacting, syncing.

Aurelia looked up.

And for a moment... she saw him.

Not the past. Not a shade. Him. Adrian.

Their eyes met across time.

"You carry it now," she whispered. "Then remember this." 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The spell shattered.

Adrian was hurled backward, through fire and mist and light—and then he landed, gasping, in the overgrown clearing.

The temple was ruin again. Quiet. Cold.

But not empty.

A sigil remained glowing faintly in the center. And beneath it... a sealed chamber. The vines twisted away, the moss recoiled, as if bowing to the return of one who belonged.

Adrian stood slowly, the weight of what he had seen bearing down on his shoulders like a mantle.

Aurelia hadn’t just led the sect.

She had tried to save it.

And she’d failed because someone within the empire—someone powerful—had betrayed her.

He walked to the center and knelt, placing his hand on the glowing crest.

The ground breathed.

Stone pulled away with a low rumble. A spiral staircase revealed itself, etched with the same starlight runes that had flared to life in the vision.

He descended.

—

Below the Temple – The Bound Hollow

The air grew colder, denser. Mist clung to the walls like veins of silver, flowing with slow, luminous Qi.

Here, deep beneath the world, the last remnants of the true Mistshroud legacy slumbered.

Statues lined the hollow—figures of past sect leaders, guardians, and sages. In the center, atop a raised dais, hovered a crystal sarcophagus. Within it floated an orb of pure mistlight, humming with a heartbeat that matched the Bound Star in Adrian’s chest.

And next to the sarcophagus...

Lay a sword.

No ordinary weapon. The hilt was wrapped in star-silver, the blade forged of pale metal that shimmered like mist. Etched into its fuller was the Mistshroud sigil—but not as a carving. As an embedded fragment of the Bound Star itself.

He reached toward it.

And time stopped again.

A voice filled the chamber—not Aurelia’s, but something older.

"He who bears the star must choose: burn bright and vanish, or endure like mist—unseen, eternal."

Adrian closed his hand around the hilt.

Visions struck him—

—A battle atop the imperial palace, a golden dragon clashing with a serpent of shadow.

—A burning library, scrolls torn as a laughing warlord claimed the Mistshroud records.

—A child, alone in a field of bones, holding a fading orb of starlight.

And then nothing.

Adrian’s eyes snapped open.

The sword was in his hand.

And the Bound Star was no longer just pulsing—it was singing.

—

Mistshroud Camp – Dawn

The mist had thickened. Scouts moved silently. Disciples gathered around the main square, staring toward the east where a faint silhouette approached.

Bella stood, hand on her spear. Laen beside her, his brow furrowed.

"It’s him," the elder said.

Adrian emerged from the mist—cloak torn, robes marked with ash, but his eyes were alive with purpose. At his side, the new blade shimmered faintly with mistlight.

He stepped into the square.

"They buried the truth," he said. "But the temple still breathes. And so does her will."

He raised the sword.

"This isn’t just our land. It’s a wound they tried to forget. We are the scar that remains—and now we rise."

The ground trembled.

All across the camp, mist surged upward. Disciples gasped as it flowed around them—not wild, but welcoming. For the first time, the valley truly felt like the Mistshroud of legend.

Adrian turned to Bella.

"We leave at dusk. All three anchor points. We strike them together."

"And after that?" she asked.

Adrian looked to the horizon.

"Then we remind them what a true sect looks like when it’s no longer hiding."

—

Elsewhere – Black Sigil Fortress

A figure stood before a massive scrying mirror, watching the shifting image of Adrian raising his blade.

The same serpent-coiled robe.

The same crimson sash.

But now his face was visible—older, scarred, his left eye replaced by a crystal lens etched with forbidden runes.

"So the heir wakes," he murmured.

Behind him, a court of masked warlocks knelt in silence.

"Send the second wave. And prepare the gate."

He turned, smiling faintly.

"The Bound Star is bright again. Let’s see how long it shines."

The mist hung thick and heavy as Adrian knelt beside a cracked stone obelisk. This was the first anchor—once a shrine, now a tether point for cursed Qi. Its surface pulsed with dark veins, spreading corruption into the surrounding land. The trees here were stunted, their leaves brittle, the soil unnaturally cold.

Olivia stood nearby, unfurling a delicate formation scroll she’d crafted. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her eyes were sharp with purpose.

"It’s woven deep," she murmured. "The Dust Order didn’t just use spirit anchors. They sank them—like hooks through the soul of the land."

Adrian laid a hand on the obelisk. The Bound Star hummed in his chest, resonating with the corruption like a discordant melody.

"Then we pull it out," he said.

From the trees, Mistshroud disciples emerged—silent, ready. Among them were Reya, spear in hand, and Ejin, a quiet alchemist who had reforged ancient firebombs based on Mistshroud scrolls.

Adrian gave a nod.

Reya and two others surged forward, drawing defensive circles while Ejin and Olivia placed talismans at measured points around the anchor.

As they worked, the air thickened.

Then the ground cracked.

Bella moved through the ruins like a phantom, her spear leaving streaks of lightning through the twilight air.

The second anchor was buried within a shattered ziggurat once used for outer Mistshroud rites. Now, it was a den of cursed dolls—wooden constructs stitched with human eyes and spirit threads.

She led a team of six—Jayson among them, fierce and agile with twin sabers. Behind them, Elder Laen commanded a formation of younger disciples, controlling their movements through bursts of wind and flame.

The dolls attacked in swarms—biting, stabbing, whispering madness into the minds of the weaker cultivators.

Bella fought like a tempest.

Each spin of her spear broke three constructs. Each thrust shattered a cursed sigil. She moved with the grace of the Vyre bloodline and the fury of someone who’d watched too many friends die.

Jayson leapt to her side. "The core’s beneath the altar!"

"Then dig," she said, covering him as he and two others broke through the ancient stone.

A glyph pulsed—then exploded outward, nearly throwing them back.

But Jayson held.

He dropped a twin saber, reached into the gap, and pulled the sigil heart free. It fought him—bit into his palm with spectral claws—but he didn’t flinch.

Laen cast a warding sigil over them just in time.

Bella hurled her spear one last time—impaling the heart through the center, pinning it to a formation stone. Lightning rippled outward.

Then—silence.

The second anchor fell.