Oath of Vengeance – Episode I: The Weight Before the Crown

Oath of Vengeance – Episode I: The Weight Before the Crown
Narrative by Junkie Bass Studios
Read by Angie Britt

They dismissed me politely, as though I were some welcome guest.

As though I hadn’t walked into that hall with a graveyard in my chest.

The banquet fires threw heat against the stone walls, curling like hands reaching for more. The nobles laughed — loud, careless — their bellies full and their burdens light.

They passed out charters as though they were blessings. Poured power like wine into eager hands.
Most smiled. I didn’t.

I wasn’t there to smile.
I wasn’t there for power.

I came because I couldn’t bury them all.

Elira.
Mirelle.
Corwin.
Seren.
And the child we never met.

Elira was calm even when storms came. She never raised her voice, but when she sang, the fire itself seemed to listen.

Mirelle had only just learned to braid her own hair. She braided mine that morning, said I looked like a prince. I let her think so.

Corwin wanted to fight. Said he could hold a blade. He couldn’t — he was only seven. I told him to guard his sisters. He gave me a soldier’s salute.

Seren asked if the baby could hear the thunder. I told her yes. She laughed.

We never chose a name.
But I call them Luma.

The day they died, I held the front. I trusted the wall. I trusted the plan.

But the enemy split. Quiet. Precise.
A second wave slipped past.

They found the cellar.
Found Elira.
Found the children.

By the time I reached them, it was over.

Blood around their toys. Smoke curling through Mirelle’s ribbon.
The stone gave no answers.

I remember every breath that ended.
Every promise I made.
Every promise I broke.

They tell me I have potential. That I could lead.

But I have no kingdom.
Only memory.

And memory is the cruelest curse I know.

So I took the charter.

Not for peace.
Not for mercy.

For permission.

Permission to hunt every shadow that preys on the weak.
Permission to erase the wicked until the wind no longer carries Elira’s voice to me.

I don’t want peace.
I want balance.
I want justice without forgiveness.

Let them call me Baron if they wish.
Let them write their songs.

I will burn every verse.

This land will learn my name.

I am Salvatore Thornefall.

I did not survive to rebuild.

I survived to destroy.

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