Chapter 43: chapter 43

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the King's encampment. The air was thick with the acrid scent of oil as soldiers moved swiftly, stacking dry wood and preparing bundles of pitch-soaked torches. Their armor clanked with each movement, and the tension in the camp was palpable.The tree barrier loomed ahead—a towering wall of ancient trees and dense foliage, defiant and  the secrets of the forest. Now, it was under threat.The King's voice, sharp and seething with rage, cut through the din. "Burn it down! I don't care how long it takes—reduce it all to ash. No more hiding." His face was twisted with fury, his eyes gleaming with madness.Hidden in the shadows at the edge of the forest, Ivar watched in silence, his heart pounding with urgency. Ivar’s face was set in a grim expression. He had left his realm in haste, knowing that something sinister was brewing in the human world. The King’s army was restless. Ivar needed to find out what was happening.He knew the King's madness was born of desperation after losing Amelia, but this reckless act would unleash devastation far beyond the barrier. The forest was ancient and sacred, its roots intertwined with the land. If it burned, not only would the forest be reduced to ash, but the surrounding villages would be consumed by fire as well.Ivar's fists clenched at his sides. He could feel the pulse of the forest beneath his feet, trembling with fear and anger. The ancient trees whispered their warnings, their leaves rustling despite the stillness of the night.I can't let this happen, he thought grimly. I must stop them.As the last sliver of sunlight dipped below the horizon, shadows thickened, and the camp's activity slowed. It was time. He needed to act swiftly and decisively. Moving with the silent grace of a predator, Ivar crept closer to the camp's perimeter. His keen senses guided him to a lone soldier standing at the edge, yawning and barely paying attention to his surroundings.Without hesitation, Ivar sprang forward, his hand clamping over the soldier’s mouth. The man’s eyes widened in shock, but Ivar’s strength was overwhelming. With a swift, precise motion, he knocked the soldier unconscious and dragged him into the shadows.Ivar quickly stripped the soldier of his uniform—dull iron plates, a faded red tunic, and a heavy cloak. Once dressed, he adjusted the helmet to obscure his face. His wings, ethereal and powerful, shimmered briefly before he willed them to vanish. Blending in with the King's army required that he appear fully human.He glanced down at the soldier, now bound and hidden among the thick foliage. "Forgive me," Ivar murmured quietly, "but I have no choice." With that, he straightened his posture and strode confidently into the camp, mimicking the soldiers' rigid demeanor.Fires crackled across the camp as soldiers moved with grim determination, stacking piles of wood and dousing them with pitch. Ivar, clad in the stolen armor of the soldier, kept his head low, blending seamlessly among the King's men. His sharp eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of his helmet."Hey, you there!" a gruff voice barked.Ivar halted, his heart steady as he turned toward the soldier approaching him. The man’s face was grimy, his brows furrowed with impatience. "Bring some more dry firewood here!" he ordered."Yes, sir," Ivar replied smoothly, bowing his head. Without hesitation, he turned and walked toward the pile of firewood stacked near the edge of the camp. The soldier's eyes lingered on him for a moment before returning to his task.But Ivar had no intention of fetching wood. Once he was out of sight, he veered off the path and made his way toward the King's tent at the heart of the camp. The towering structure was illuminated by lanterns, its crimson banners billowing faintly in the night breeze. Four guards flanked the entrance, their swords gleaming in the flickering light."Halt!" one of them commanded, stepping forward. "You—just a mere soldier—what business could you possibly have with the King? You can't enter. Go and inform your superior if you have anything to report."Ivar's expression remained calm, but his eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity. "You will go and tell your King that I have the key to his destiny," he said in a low, commanding voice. "And if you send me away, your King might do something truly regrettable—to you." He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'll be waiting right here. Now, go."The guards exchanged uneasy glances. The air around Ivar seemed to crackle with an invisible force, and though he appeared calm, there was an unmistakable edge to his presence.One of the guards hesitated, then muttered, "Stay here," before disappearing into the tent.A tense silence settled over the camp as Ivar stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the tent’s entrance. Moments later, the guard reappeared, his face pale. "The King has summoned you inside."Ivar's lips curled into an ominous smile. "Wise decision," he murmured.He strode forward, the heavy tent flaps parting before him. The interior was dimly lit by a single brazier, casting flickering shadows across rich tapestries and a massive wooden table strewn with maps and documents. The chamber was dimly lit by flickering torches mounted along the walls, their shadows dancing like restless spirits. Ivar stood in the center, tall and defiant, his eyes gleaming with unwavering resolve.The king's brows furrowed as he looked upon Ivar. His astonishment was palpable,  But now, seeing him up close, the king felt both awe and unease.“Where is the girl?” the king demanded, his voice sharp and commanding. “Do you think you can hide her forever?”Ivar’s expression darkened. His voice was low but edged with menace. “I will protect her, no matter what. Stop this madness now, or I will kill you.”The king's lips curled into a sneer. “How dare you speak to me like this? I am the king!”Ivar took a step forward, his presence radiating defiance. “You are no king to me. You’re just a madman blinded by greed and unaware of the consequences of your actions.”The king's laughter echoed through the hall, cold and contemptuous. “You foolish creature,” he spat. He turned to Alrick and gave a sharp nod.Alrick barked an order, and the guards sprang into action. Within moments, a thick iron net was hurled over Ivar. The iron net clattered over Ivar, its cold weight wrapping around him like a vengeful predator. The moment the metal touched his skin, a violent hiss filled the air. Smoke curled upward as the iron seared his flesh, leaving blackened marks that glowed red with agony. Ivar's body jerked involuntarily, his breaths ragged as pain coursed through him like wildfire.He dropped to one knee, his hands trembling as he fought against the burning torment. The cursed metal was no ordinary restraint—it was a punishment etched into his very existence. A judgment from the heavens themselves, who had deemed his birth a defiance of divine order. Born from the union of an angel and a human, Ivar was neither wholly mortal nor celestial, a being that shouldn't have been. And for that, the heavens cursed him with a vulnerability to iron—a curse as merciless as it was fatal.The king’s eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure. “Ah, so you have a weakness after all,” he mocked. “The curse of your birth—angel and human, an unnatural abomination. Even heaven itself despises you.”Ivar clenched his jaw, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to endure the burning torment. His breaths were ragged, but his spirit remained unbroken. Through the haze of pain, his gaze locked onto the king with fierce determination.The king crouched beside him, his voice dripping with malice. “I was going to kill the Oracle, you know,” he whispered. “But it turns out she was right about you. I almost didn’t believe her.”Ivar’s lips curled into a bloodied, defiant smirk despite the agony wracking his body. His voice was strained but unyielding. “You can never have the Blood Stone,” he rasped. “Didn't the Oracle tell you? I will be your end.”The king’s face darkened, his smugness wavering for a moment. He stood abruptly and barked, “Take him! Lock him away where he can never escape.”The guards hauled Ivar to his feet, the iron net still clinging to him like a venomous serpent. His knees buckled, but he forced himself to stand tall, his eyes never leaving the king.As they dragged him away, the king’s voice echoed through the hall, cold and venomous. “You will beg for death before I’m done with you."Despite the torment , Ivar's pale blue eyes burned with defiance. The curse may have been crafted to break him, but he wasn't one to surrender. Even if his strength waned, his will remained unshaken.