Chapter 6 - The Golden Summons
When consciousness returned, Rowan was bound tightly to a high-backed wooden chair in the center of the grand courtyard of Blackthorn Hall. Snow fell in heavy flakes around him, dusting the stone battlements where dozens of estate guests and household guards watched in stunned silence. Lord Alaric stood upon the raised marble dais, wearing his full regalia, holding a ceremonial crossbow loaded with a heavy, barbed bolt.
"For nineteen years, the prophecy of the Crown Eyrie has haunted this family," Alaric announced, his voice carrying clearly across the silent courtyard. "The bloodline must remain pure, undivided, and absolute. This orphan peasant, infected with sentimentality and insolence, dared to interfere with sacred estate law."
From the shadows of the gated archway, two guards dragged forward the majestic Crown Eagle. Its damaged wing was bound tightly, but its golden eyes blazed with an unearthly fury. They forced the creature onto the stone floor near Rowan’s feet.
"End them both," Alaric whispered, raising the crossbow toward the eagle's chest. "Let the valley see what happens to those who defy Blackthorn rule."
Rowan strained against his hempen ropes, his muscles burning. "Don't you dare!" he roared, throwing his weight forward.
Alaric pulled the trigger.
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The heavy bolt hissed through the freezing air—but before it could strike the eagle, a blinding flash of golden light erupted from the courtyard floor. The ancient stone beneath the eagle cracked open, and a shockwave of raw, thermal energy rippled outward. The crossbow bolt melted mid-air into glowing slag.
The eagle let out a deafening, thunderous shriek that echoed off the mountain peaks. Its damaged wing snapped outward, completely healed in an instant, bathed in shimmering, liquid gold.
