Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess

Author's Note:

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This is a LegoRomance (slow-burn)

ActVI

The Shadows

Chapter 66: The Heart of the Forge

Hidden Forge of Eregion, September 23rd-24th 3018 T.A

The stone door groaned one last time before it fully yielded, revealing a darkened corridor ahead, choked with dust and the scent of ancient, damp stone. Dawn's first light trickled reluctantly into the hidden passage, casting long shadows that seemed to claw their way deeper into the murk. Legolas, Xena, Elladan, and Elrohir stood poised at the entrance, each one aware that beyond this threshold lay dangers forgotten by time.

Legolas took the first step, his senses attuned to every whisper of the air, every subtle shift in the silence around them. His keen eyes scanned the stone walls, catching the faint glimmer of Elvish carvings—script nearly lost to age, yet crafted with unmistakable skill by Elven hands long turned to dust. He murmured, almost to himself, "Now that the ashes have grown cold, and the stone gates are open…"

Elladan, following his gaze, translated the faded script, his voice a grim echo in the silence. "Bloody and beaten, marked by the dying shadows, is the only way out."

The words lingered heavily, as though even the air in this place had absorbed the centuries of death and decay. Legolas and Elladan exchanged a glance, communicating silently, before gesturing for Xena and Elrohir to hold back. They stepped cautiously into the dim corridor, which seemed to swallow the light entirely. The air was thick with the scent of rust and old blood—reminders of sacrifices long past.

"There are traps here," Xena whispered, her fingers brushing the chakram at her waist. Her instincts buzzed like a living thing, every nerve attuned to the quiet malice that seemed to pulse from the very walls. "Old, but still dangerous."

They fell into silence again, waiting, as if to see if the air would answer. Legolas's hand rested lightly on his bow, his sharp gaze scanning the stone for any sign of threat. Elladan, ever the pragmatist, drew his sword with the soft whisper of metal on leather, the sound barely disturbing the thick, oppressive quiet.

"If the legend holds, this is where they protected their most prized treasures," Elladan said, his voice barely more than a murmur. "We must expect resistance."

As they advanced, their movements were slow and deliberate. The passage sloped downward, uneven and treacherous underfoot, each step weighted with the knowledge that it could set off a trap as ancient as the stones themselves. Legolas and Elladan took the lead, moving with an almost imperceptible grace. Xena followed close behind, her gaze sweeping the shadows. Elrohir kept to the rear, his senses as keen as his twin's, his hand ready on the hilt of his sword.

Without warning, a faint rumble coursed through the ground, like a tremor from the heart of the mountain itself. It was only a whisper at first, a subtle shiver beneath their feet. But then, as if the mountain awoke, a crack sounded, splitting the stone floor beneath them. In an instant, the ground gave way beneath Xena's feet. She moved on pure reflex, thrusting her sword into a narrow crack in the wall and swinging her body sideways to avoid the gaping pit that yawned open below her.

"Xena!" Legolas lunged toward her, his arm outstretched, but he stopped short as the ancient gears of the trap roared to life. Massive stone slabs began grinding together, the walls seeming to close in like the jaws of a great beast. Dust exploded into the air, stinging their eyes and filling the air with a choking haze.

With a sharp grunt, Xena hauled herself up, muscles straining as she found purchase on a narrow ledge just as the ground gave another shudder. "It's not over!" she barked, her voice cutting through the dust.

Elladan and Elrohir spun, their attention now fixed on a new threat. From the walls, thin, glinting blades—ancient and wicked—shot out from hidden slits, racing toward them with deadly precision. Elrohir deflected the first with a deft flick of his sword, the blade skimming past his shoulder with a hiss. Elladan rolled to the side, dodging a second barrage, and as he came up, he slammed his shoulder against a slab to push it back into place, momentarily halting the assault.

"Go!" Legolas called, as he led the way forward, sensing the brief reprieve would not last. He ducked beneath a low-hanging stone slab and twisted around a set of broken stairs, his movements like liquid shadow as he navigated the treacherous ground. The others followed, moving as one, each step calculated.

They came into a vast chamber where the ceiling rose high above them, veiled in shadow. The floor was littered with ancient debris—broken weapons, shattered bits of armor, and the silent remains of those who had not made it through. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances, the weight of the past pressing down on them like the heavy stone above.

"This is a graveyard," Elrohir said, his voice low, a quiet horror in his tone.

Xena moved through the wreckage, her expression hard as she surveyed the remnants. "So many lives, lost to protect what? A treasure? An idea?"

Legolas's gaze shifted to her, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and resignation. "Some sacrifices are chosen. Others are forced upon us."

Their words faded into the stillness, but there was no time to linger. With grim resolve, they pressed on, their footsteps echoing off the ancient stone, every step a reminder of the lives that had come before them, and the dangers that still lay ahead.

Legolas spotted the trap's pressure plate overhead and, without hesitation, drew his bow and loosed an arrow. It shot through the air, striking the mechanism with perfect precision. A final, resounding click echoed, and then silence settled over the corridor, broken only by the ragged breaths of his companions. Yet the floor beneath them had not survived unscathed. Fractures spidered out, weaving intricate cracks that promised to plunge them into the abyss below.

"We need to move—now," Legolas urged, eyes fixed on a faint glow in the distance, suggesting an opening. He gestured ahead, rallying them forward.

The ground shifted ominously as they broke into a run, the stone beneath their feet giving way in crumbling fragments with every step. Elrohir, leading the charge, almost slipped as the floor betrayed him, but he caught himself at the last moment, his elven agility carrying him forward with a leap. Xena, close behind, felt the ground heave beneath her and forced herself into a desperate sprint, her warrior's instincts and balance keeping her just ahead of the collapsing stone.

They reached the end of the passage and burst through an ancient archway, spilling into a vast chamber that stretched into the shadows like a cavernous maw. The air was cold, a biting wind howling through unseen cracks in the walls. Above them, jagged stalactites hung like ancient teeth, waiting to snap shut. In the center of the hall stood a stone platform, and atop it, faintly glimmering with a strange, otherworldly light, lay a stone.

But they were not alone.

Legolas stopped short, heart hammering as figures emerged from the darkness. Their movements were slow yet deliberate, each step echoing with the heavy scrape of stone against stone. Their eyes held a faint, eerie glow, and their skin—if it could still be called that—had the ashen pallor of weathered stone. These were guardians, bound by ancient magic to protect the treasures of Eregion for eternity.

"They're not alive," Xena breathed, eyes narrowing as her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword.

The first guardian lunged, and Elrohir met it without hesitation, his blade slicing through the air in a swift arc. Steel struck the creature's stony flesh, reverberating with a resounding clang that echoed through the chamber. Sparks flew, but the guardian held firm, pushing back with an inhuman strength that sent Elrohir sliding across the floor.

Xena sprang into action, hurling her chakram at the nearest guardian. The weapon whirled through the air, striking the creature squarely in the head with a sickening crack. For a heartbeat, the guardian faltered, but then, as if unfazed, it straightened, its hollow eyes fixed upon her as it advanced once more.

"They're too strong!" Elladan shouted, parrying a heavy blow that left his arms trembling. "We need to find another way!"

Legolas had his gaze fixed on the platform at the chamber's center, where the stone rested. "This isn't a battle we're meant to win," he called, reaching for another set of arrows. "Not like this."

In one smooth motion, he nocked three arrows and aimed at the base of the platform. The arrows flew, each striking its target with uncanny accuracy. For a moment, there was only silence. Then the ground began to tremble, the platform shuddering as cracks radiated outward, spidering beneath the feet of the guardians.

The floor heaved and gave way, but not in their favor. As the stone crumbled, the guardians staggered, teetering on the edge, but the earth betrayed the company as well. The stone beneath Legolas, Xena, Elladan, and Elrohir disintegrated, leaving them nothing to cling to. With a single, collective gasp, they fell, plummeting into the darkness below.

The fall was a chaotic blur, their bodies twisting as they tumbled through the darkness, their descent broken only by scattered debris from the collapsing chamber above. Finally, they struck solid ground with a jarring impact, rolling to a halt in the dim recesses of a lower chamber. They lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, groaning as they took stock of their bruises and aches, the eerie silence now broken only by their labored breaths.

As they rose, each feeling the sting of their fall, they became aware of their surroundings. The air was thick, damp, and cold—thick with an ancient, musty scent that carried the weight of ages. Faint phosphorescent fungi dotted the walls, casting a ghostly glow across the expansive chamber. The walls here were smooth and unnaturally reflective, as though polished by unseen hands, and twisted symbols ran along their surfaces, marking this as a place unlike any other.

Elladan brushed dust from his cloak, casting a wary glance around. "This isn't part of the forge we were meant to find. It feels…darker, somehow."

Legolas nodded, his gaze distant as he took in their new surroundings. "These are the lower levels—the oldest parts of Eregion, perhaps untouched since the time of Celebrimbor. We may be farther from our goal than we realized."

Xena stepped forward, flexing her hands as she scanned the chamber with wary eyes. "Whatever it is, I doubt it'll let us leave without a fight. We should be prepared."

The shadows seemed to close in tighter as if listening. They had descended into the heart of something ancient and malevolent, where each step forward could lead them into untold dangers lurking within the dark depths of Eregion's lost forge.

The dim glow from the phosphorescent fungi cast eerie shadows, stretching their shapes along the cavern walls, making it feel as if unseen eyes were watching their every move. The ancient chamber was oppressive, suffused with a silence that was almost deafening, broken only by the occasional drip of water from some hidden source far above. They could feel it in their bones: they had stumbled into a place where they were not welcome, where every corner held secrets best left undisturbed.

They took cautious steps forward, the soft scuff of their boots on the smooth stone floor seeming loud in the tomb-like silence. Ahead, the corridor widened, opening into a massive hall, far grander than any they had seen so far. The ceiling arched high above them, disappearing into the darkness, and along the walls, ancient carvings seemed to writhe in the dim light—scenes of elves forging, feasting, and battling in the glory days of Eregion. Yet something about the carvings was unsettling; the eyes of the carved figures seemed almost alive, glimmering as if they were watching the company with grim interest.

At the far end of the hall, a colossal statue loomed. Its face was worn and weathered, the features almost unrecognizable, but it held an unmistakable air of menace. The figure was clad in elaborate armor, sculpted to mimic the flow of robes and chainmail, with a massive hammer clenched in its stone grip. Behind the statue, an enormous circular door was set into the wall, sealed with an intricate web of chains and metal bars, radiating ancient power. Faint runes glowed on the door's surface, humming with an energy that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

Legolas approached cautiously, his sharp elven eyes scrutinizing the runes. "These are wards," he murmured, his fingers brushing against the cool stone. "They're designed to keep something locked away."

Xena joined him, her gaze shifting from the door to the towering statue. "Or to keep us out," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elladan and Elrohir, meanwhile, were examining the walls. As they traced the carvings, their fingers brushed over a series of notches hidden within the stone. Elrohir's brow furrowed. "These carvings… they're not just decoration. They're part of the lock. A puzzle, perhaps. Something we'll need to solve to proceed."

Suddenly, a deep rumble resonated through the chamber. The ground beneath them trembled, and the chains on the door rattled ominously. With a groan, the colossal statue's head turned, its hollow eyes blazing to life with an unnatural blue flame. It was as if the centuries of stillness had been shattered, the ancient guardian reawakened by their presence. Stone arms began to move, joints grinding and sparking as if they had not moved in millennia.

Legolas took a step back, drawing his bow. "Be ready," he warned, voice tight with tension. "This place was meant to be sealed for a reason."

The statue raised its hammer high, the weapon catching a ghostly light as it swung downward with a speed that belied its massive form. The four companions scattered, barely dodging the impact as the hammer struck the ground, sending shards of stone flying through the air. Dust billowed around them, obscuring their vision as the guardian lumbered forward, its movements surprisingly swift for something made of stone.

Xena recovered first, drawing her sword and charging at the statue, aiming for the joints where stone met stone. Her blade clanged against the ancient rock, sparks flying, but it was like trying to cut through a mountain. The statue seemed unfazed, its flaming eyes locking onto her as it raised its hammer once more.

Elladan and Elrohir flanked the creature, blades drawn as they sought to distract it, their movements perfectly synchronized. They darted in and out, slashing at its ankles, their swords leaving faint scratches but doing little else. The statue swung its arm, forcing the twins to dive away, narrowly avoiding being crushed.

Legolas loosed a volley of arrows, each one aimed at the statue's glowing eyes. The arrows hit their mark, embedding themselves in the fiery sockets, but the flames only flared brighter, as if feeding on the attack.

"Nothing's working!" Elrohir shouted, his voice strained as he dodged another swing of the hammer.

Xena's mind raced as she assessed the situation. The carvings on the wall, the strange notches—this was not a creature meant to be bested by brute force. It was part of the lock, a piece of the puzzle that guarded the door.

"Fall back!" she called, motioning for them to retreat toward the walls. "This isn't just a guardian—it's connected to the seal! We need to figure out how to unlock it."

The four regrouped, keeping their distance as the statue stood still, seemingly content to block their path. They looked back at the carvings, now glowing faintly in the dim light. Xena scanned the wall, her gaze falling on a series of symbols that seemed familiar, symbols that matched the runes on the door.

Elladan's eyes lit up with recognition. "Of course—the carvings! They're part of an old elvish rite, a sequence to deactivate the guardian."

Together, they traced the symbols on the wall, pressing them in the order that matched the runes on the door. With each symbol they activated, the glow in the guardian's eyes dimmed, the stone limbs growing sluggish as if the power animating it was being drained.

Finally, with a rumbling shudder, the statue froze in place, its hammer falling to the ground with a resounding crash. The chains on the door loosened, clinking softly as the ancient magic released its hold. The great stone guardian was still once more, its flames extinguished, and a deep silence fell over the chamber.

The four of them took a moment to catch their breath, the enormity of what they had just faced settling over them like a shroud. They shared a look—exhausted but resolute. They had overcome the first of the forge's trials, but they knew this was only the beginning. The darkness of Eregion lay ahead, and they could only guess at the dangers still waiting in the depths.

The chamber beyond the locked door was vast, its expanse hidden beneath a heavy veil of darkness, save for a faint glow emanating from the far end. The air was thick, stale with the scent of forgotten ages and ancient dust, yet beneath it all was an odd metallic tang, like iron mixed with something darker, something far less ordinary. The companions stepped forward cautiously, their footsteps echoing through the emptiness, as if the chamber itself were whispering warnings from the past.

Legolas, his elven eyes more accustomed to the dark, moved ahead of the group, his keen gaze sweeping the room. His instincts bristled as he took in the sights around them. This was no ordinary chamber; it was a crypt of sorts, filled with remnants of the Second Age. Massive columns of black stone lined the room, each one etched with runes that pulsed faintly, as if struggling to hold onto some long-lost magic. These columns were not merely decorative; they seemed to contain some kind of energy, perhaps remnants of the power that once coursed through this place.

Elladan and Elrohir moved to examine the nearest column. Elrohir ran his fingers over the cold, engraved stone, deciphering the ancient script. "These runes...they're warnings," he said, his voice tense. "They speak of a guardian that protects the forge—something left behind when Celebrimbor and his people were forced to abandon it. Something that was never meant to see the light of day again."

Xena, always drawn to the unknown, ventured further into the chamber. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she could make out strange shapes littered across the floor. As she moved closer, she realized they were weapons—blades, spears, shields—all scattered and broken, as though the very essence of the forge had violently rejected them. Each piece was covered in rust, yet they held a haunting beauty, traces of ancient craftsmanship still visible beneath the decay. One blade, half-buried in the stone floor, glinted in the dim light, and she reached down to pull it free, feeling the chill of the metal even through her gloves.

Suddenly, the glow at the far end of the room intensified, illuminating a massive forge that dominated the space. It was unlike any forge they had ever seen—an intricate structure of gears, chains, and pulleys, all surrounding a massive anvil that appeared to be made of blackened steel. Above the anvil hung a great hammer, suspended mid-swing, as if frozen in time. The walls around the forge were lined with shelves filled with long-dulled ingots and chunks of unworked metal, remnants of the materials once used to create some of the most powerful artifacts of Middle-earth.

Legolas stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "This forge… it's not just a place for crafting. It's a prison. The guardians we faced earlier—those were not its last line of defense."

A low, guttural growl reverberated through the chamber, and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. The companions instinctively formed a defensive line, their weapons drawn as they scanned the room for the source of the sound. The air grew colder, biting into their skin as a shadow began to coalesce at the edge of the forge. Slowly, it took shape—a monstrous figure with elongated limbs, a towering frame draped in the tatters of ancient robes. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, but two fiery eyes glowed from within, piercing the darkness.

The creature raised a skeletal hand, clawed fingers pointing directly at them. As it moved, they could see its form shifting, like smoke trapped in the shape of a being. It was as if the creature were not truly solid, but something twisted and bound, tethered to this place by dark magic. It floated closer, the tendrils of its form trailing behind it like blackened mist, and with each step, the shadows around them deepened, almost alive with a sinister energy.

Elrohir took a step back, his face pale. "I've heard tales of this—the Wraith of the Forge. A specter born from the final breaths of those who died defending this place, bound to guard it for eternity. They say it can never be killed, only subdued."

Xena tightened her grip on her sword, eyes fixed on the specter as it moved. "And how do we subdue it?"

Elladan, recalling fragments of ancient lore, responded, "The wraith is tied to the forge's power. If we can disrupt the energy that binds it here, we might weaken it enough to escape."

The wraith let out a spine-chilling wail, its voice like the grinding of metal and the wailing of lost souls. It stretched out a hand toward them, and the shadows around it surged forward, extending like talons ready to rip them apart. Legolas loosed an arrow, which passed straight through the creature, clattering harmlessly against the wall behind it.

"It's not a physical being," Legolas said, frustration tinging his voice. "We'll have to weaken it another way."

Elladan's eyes fell on the intricate machinery surrounding the forge. "These gears and pulleys... they're connected to the anvil and the hammer. Perhaps they're more than just remnants. If we can destroy the mechanisms, it might disrupt the wraith's connection to the forge."

As if sensing their plan, the wraith roared, and the ground beneath them trembled. Massive chains that had once been dormant now sprang to life, snaking across the floor with a life of their own, attempting to ensnare them. Xena dodged the first chain, rolling to the side and slicing at it with her sword, though her blade passed through it as if it were nothing but air.

"Go for the machinery!" Legolas shouted, firing another arrow at a weak spot in the gears. The arrow struck true, and the machinery shuddered, sparks flying as pieces began to break apart.

Elladan and Elrohir joined in, striking at the machinery with their swords, dismantling the ancient workings piece by piece. As they worked, the wraith's form flickered, its movements becoming more erratic. It seemed to be struggling, as if losing its grip on reality, but it fought back with renewed fury, sending tendrils of darkness to lash out at them.

Xena dashed forward, using her chakram to slice through one of the chains that threatened to wrap around Elladan. "We need to destroy the anvil itself!" she yelled, her voice barely audible over the wraith's anguished screams.

Legolas nodded, and with a final, desperate swing, he aimed his blade at the base of the anvil. Sparks erupted as his sword connected with the ancient metal, and a pulse of dark energy exploded outward, sending them all stumbling backward.

The wraith let out one last, unearthly shriek as its form began to disintegrate, the shadows evaporating into thin air. The chains fell limp, and the forge fell silent, its ancient curse finally broken. The four companions stood in the center of the ruined chamber, their breaths heavy, the eerie silence pressing in on them once more.

As the last echoes of the wraith's tortured scream faded into silence, the chamber seemed to shudder, as if awakening from a long nightmare. Legolas, Xena, Elladan, and Elrohir stood motionless for a moment, catching their breath. But it was only a brief respite. The ground beneath them began to tremble, and fissures snaked across the stone floor, splitting apart with a thunderous crack. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as the ancient structure groaned under the weight of time.

"We have to move!" Legolas barked, his voice cutting through the roar of the crumbling stone. He turned, eyes darting around the vast chamber for an escape route.

Just then, a glimmer of light caught Xena's eye. Far across the room, where shadows had once cloaked the walls, a smaller gate stood open, barely visible through the dust and chaos. "There!" she shouted, pointing. "The gate—it's open!"

Without hesitation, they sprang into action, racing across the trembling chamber. Stone debris and broken chains clattered around them as the room continued its violent collapse. Elrohir stumbled briefly, catching his foot on a piece of rubble, but Elladan reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to his feet. They continued onward, all four moving as one through the chaos.

The gate loomed ahead, a narrow portal barely big enough for them to pass through one at a time. Legolas reached it first and ushered the others through, sparing one last glance at the collapsing chamber before following behind. As they slipped through the gate, the entire ceiling behind them gave way with a deafening crash, sealing off the chamber and trapping them within the hidden corridor beyond.

They stood in a smaller chamber now, dimly lit by a strange, phosphorescent glow that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. The air here was musty and stale, untouched for centuries. When they turned, they saw that the gate they had passed through had sealed shut behind them. They were trapped.

But there was little time to dwell on it. Their eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where an ornate pedestal stood. Around it were scattered piles of decayed and rusted weapons—blades, shields, and armor, most crumbling to dust at the slightest touch. Yet amidst the ruin, something gleamed, untouched by time and decay. There, resting on the pedestal, was a sword.

Its blade was forged from a dark, gleaming metal, as if it had been quenched in starlight rather than fire. The hilt was wrapped in blackened leather, and intricate elven runes glimmered along its length. It was beautiful, and yet there was something ominous about it, as though it held the weight of countless battles, of lives lost and blood spilled. It was the sword Legolas had spoken of—a blade from the ancient forges of Eregion, untouched by the centuries.

Elrohir approached the pedestal with caution, eyes narrowed as he took in the sword. "The craftsmanship—it's unmistakably elven. It's not like the others," he murmured, gesturing to the rusted weapons around them. "Whatever magic preserves this blade...it is powerful."

Elladan nodded, inspecting the runes etched into the hilt. "It's a warding spell," he said, tracing the patterns with his fingers. "It was meant to protect this weapon from decay, but also to ensure that only those worthy could claim it."

Legolas stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the blade. He reached out, his hand hovering over the hilt, as if sensing the power within. "This sword was forged for a great purpose, but it was hidden here, locked away, to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands." He glanced back at the others, a somber look in his eyes. "We came here to find it, and now we have."

Xena, still catching her breath, finally spoke, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "Then let's not waste any more time. We take the sword and we find a way out of here." Her eyes swept the room, noting the walls lined with empty sconces and decaying tapestries that depicted scenes of battle and ruin.

Elrohir, turning back to the sealed gate, shook his head. "The gate won't budge. We're trapped unless we find another way. This chamber may hold more secrets."

Xena nodded, her mind racing as she considered their options. Her gaze landed on a smaller archway near the far side of the room, half-hidden in shadow. "There," she pointed. "It looks like another passage. Maybe it leads out."

Without further discussion, they moved toward the archway. Legolas stayed close to Xena, his hand resting on the hilt of the ancient sword, which he had taken from the pedestal. They entered the passage, the walls closing in around them, the air growing colder with every step. It was clear that they were descending deeper into the ruins, not climbing out. Yet they had no other choice but to continue forward.

As they ventured further, the walls grew slick with moisture, and the ground beneath their feet began to slope downward, uneven and treacherous. They could hear the distant drip of water echoing through the passage, mingling with the hollow whisper of their own breaths.

Suddenly, they emerged into another chamber. This one was smaller, and it was lined with shelves upon shelves of ancient relics—more weapons, but also armor and items they could not immediately identify. Elladan ran his fingers over the remnants of what seemed to be an old shield, its surface engraved with patterns that had faded over time. "This place...it's a vault. Whatever they kept here, it was important enough to guard it with their lives."

Xena's eyes fell on a piece of armor, almost intact, yet covered in dust and cobwebs. She brushed a hand over it, feeling the weight of the past settle over her. "These were their treasures. Weapons to protect, to defend...and now they're all but forgotten."

Legolas, still gripping the sword, took a step back, his eyes scanning the room. "We can't stay here. There must be another exit. We keep moving."

As they turned to leave, they heard a low rumble. The floor beneath them began to tremble once more, and the walls seemed to close in around them. They were running out of time, and they knew they had to find a way out before the ruins claimed them forever. With determination, they pressed on, hoping that the path they had chosen would lead them to freedom—and not into another trap hidden within these ancient walls.

((Upcoming Chapter Sixty-Seven))

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