Title: Crimson Thrones: Volume 140 – The Shrouded Rebellion
By Sabbir Ahmed
The Shrouded Veil moved in silence, as shadows always do. No banners, no drums—only whispers in corridors, subtle poison in words, and unseen hands shifting loyalties. Veyrath, so long ruled by memory and continuity, now faced a threat born from the fear of knowing too much.
The Unforgotten felt it first. Children who had once marveled at their clarity now sensed the threat like a tremor beneath their feet. Names, dates, and betrayals flickered in their minds unbidden, warning them that someone—something—was rewriting reality behind the throne.
Seraphine summoned the council, but the Shrouded Veil had already begun to fracture it. Advisors turned secret informants; allies whispered doubts into each other's ears. Even the Ashbound, sworn to uphold balance, hesitated, wary of taking sides against those who demanded ignorance.
Kaelen walked among the Unforgotten, their eyes reflecting the flicker of quiet fire now restrained. "They cannot erase what is remembered," he said. "But they can poison it."
The first act of rebellion came without warning. The eastern mountains—the site of the hidden convergence—erupted in chaos. Time itself twisted in small, sharp bursts: a sunrise that repeated, rivers flowing backward for moments, shadows moving ahead of their owners. The Shrouded Veil had discovered a way to manipulate memory as weapon.
The child of continuity appeared at Seraphine's side. Their gaze swept the palace, their voice calm but terrible.
"They test you because they fear what you remember. But remember—memory binds us. Choice makes us free."
The queen and king exchanged a glance. Their love had survived revolutions, convergences, and the very collapse of reality itself. This was a new challenge, but the lesson was the same: power without unity falters.
The Unforgotten rallied beneath Seraphine and Kaelen, learning to weave their memories into living shields, to create bonds that could counteract the Shrouded Veil's manipulations. Every child became both sword and sentinel, their clarity a blade no shadow could pierce.
As the night deepened, the palace shuddered with the first true battle not of steel, but of mind, magic, and memory. Veyrath had faced impossible odds before—but this was the beginning of a war that could redefine the very essence of its people.
Above the city, the stars burned brighter, as if watching—and waiting.