Chapter 27: The Crimson Sky
A strange unease clung to the city like a second skin.
Thistle had always hummed with magical energy, but today, the hum had gone still. The air was thick—not hot, not cold—just heavy, as if holding its breath.
Word of the East Block's destruction had spread like wildfire. Whispers filled alleyways. People walked with quick steps and quiet mouths, casting glances at the grey skies above. Even the usual guild messengers were tense, their robes fluttering like warning flags.
Leo felt it too.
A weight in the air, like something massive was pressing down from above.
And then, it began.
The sky cracked open.
First a drop.
Then another.
Thick. Red. Wet.
Within seconds, the city was drenched in blood.
Real blood.
Not metaphor. Not magic illusion.
Real, dripping, metallic-smelling blood.
Screams broke out in every corner of the city. Mothers pulled children indoors. Shopkeepers slammed shutters. Mages threw up barriers to shield themselves from the crimson storm.
Thunder roared—not like a sound from the sky, but like the screaming of beasts in pain. A deep, monstrous rumble that echoed through bones.
Guild members arrived almost instantly. Dozens of them, fanning out, trying to understand, to contain, to undo.
One of the senior guild mages shouted, "This is no ordinary magic! This... this is a high-level curse!"
They tried cleansing spells. Sky seals. Weather dispersals. Nothing worked.
Leo watched from beneath a magical shield, standing with Ari and Vellum. His eyes were fixed on the bleeding sky. Something about it... called to him.
"I've seen this," he murmured.
Ari turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
Leo swallowed. "Not exactly this—but I've read something... In the ancient book. A counter-spell. I think I can stop it."
"You think?" Vellum asked, nervous. "Leo, this isn't a school project. That sky's howling like it wants to eat us!"
But Leo was already walking.
They made their way through the chaos to the old field near the outskirts—Leo's private training ground. The only place where he ever felt like he had some control.
Ari and Vellum stayed back, watching as Leo opened the book, flipping through soaked pages. His hands were shaking. Blood splattered across the runes. The wind was colder here. The thunder louder.
He began chanting.
The words weren't his own.
They weren't even human.
Symbols floated in the air around him, glowing a cold silver. The ground cracked beneath his feet. The blood in the air slowed... paused... twisted around his body like a spiral.
Then, he shouted the final command.
The thunder didn't rumble—it screamed.
The sky lit up white.
Then everything went silent.
For a terrifying moment, no one breathed.
And then—
The rain stopped.
The clouds split open above the city, revealing a pale patch of light. But below, Thistle was soaked in red. Every street. Every rooftop. The river ran dark. Clothes. Hair. Skin.
Everything—bathed in blood.
Later that day, the Council summoned every citizen to the central square. The silence was deafening.
A hooded elder stepped forward, speaking in a solemn voice.
"This... is the work of black magic. Or worse. A witch's curse. We do not know their identity yet, but we're investigating. Remain calm. We are taking precautions."
But Leo was pulled aside.
A private session. Just him.
Six members of the council. Eyes sharp. Words sharper.
Silent One was absent.
He was stated "BUSY"
"You were seen casting something unfamiliar," one of them said.
Leo didn't deny it.
Another leaned forward. "You may be targeted. If this is the work of witches... they will not like what you've done. Be careful, Leo. This isn't over."
Leo said nothing.
He couldn't.
Because deep down, he knew—
This had only just begun.
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