The sky shattered.
Mountains quaked. Seas swelled and crashed into each other, threatening to engulf all. She was running—no, she was fleeing, a storm of living chaos as she tore through the fabric of existence in her escape.
Each of her movements rippled out into the cosmos, a cataclysmic force leaving destruction in her wake. The ground beneath her feet cracked open, and the air bent as she leaped from planet to planet, too tired to manage something as simple as flying.
For every planet she leaped from, for all the space she crossed, shadows followed her. They were large, hulking even, dwarfing entire planets and stars. The shadows whispered, yet thunderous booms emerged from their mouths, sending shockwaves through reality. They were relentless in their chase. From one galaxy to another, they chased, for how long she had lost track.
Minutes bled into hours, days into years. Millennia slipped by, but still, they pursued."
And still, they pursued.
They were not beings of flesh and blood but something deeper, something vast and ancient, their forms shifting like shadows cast across time itself. They whispered, and their voices shattered reality. They reached, and entire galaxies collapsed beneath their grasp.
She had seen them before—when the first of her kind fell, when the greatest of them were torn apart, when the impossible was made real.
But she was one of the last now.
The last of those who had once stood against them, the defiant ember of a dying fire. Her kin had scattered, some dead, others hidden, but none left to stand with her. So she ran.
Until she could run no longer.
She stopped, turning and waiting for them to come. She felt it then—just for a moment. The weight of those who had fallen before her, the countless voices lost to the void. If she had time, she might have mourned them. But time was the one thing she no longer had.
The universe darkened, the void stretching as her pursuers emerged—hulking titans whose presence bent space and time. They loomed above her, their auras heavy and unnatural.
She laughed, weary but unbroken.
The Keepers had once been the sentinels of order, guardians of what lay beyond mortal comprehension. Now, in a mere blink, they had been reduced to scampering, and she, the last among them strong enough to fight back, stood alone.
But if this had to be her end, she would decide how it came.
Her Vis flared, a final, furious storm of power. She knew what they wanted, knew why they had hunted her across the ages. And she would never let them have it.
Launching herself forward, she struck with the force of collapsing suns, tearing through reality itself. Planets shattered, cosmic winds howled, and for a fleeting moment, she was not prey but a force of annihilation.
But it was not enough.
They caught her, and the universe trembled. Suspended in the void, bound by their power, she heard their laughter—mocking, triumphant.
They thought they had won.
They thought they had claimed her.
They were wrong.
Her body burned with light, her essence warping, swelling. Their laughter turned to shouts, then roars of fury as they realized what she had done—what she was doing.
"You do not belong here," she whispered, her voice carrying across the expanse. "You dared to invade my home, to take everything from me…"
Her form shone brighter, reality trembling under the weight of her defiance, as lavender energy glowed from cracks in her form.
"And so, even if it costs me everything… I will take you with me!"
"I'LL KILL AS MANY OF YOU BASTARDS AS I CAN!"
With a final earth-shattering roar, she unleashed the last of her power.
Existence shattered. The universe screamed.
And the void burned.
When the dust settled, her assailants were no longer infinite. They were broken, diminished—mere shadows of what they had once been.
And she was gone.
Silence stretched across the void, unnatural in its stillness. The remnants of shattered worlds drifted like dust motes in the abyss, the echoes of her final defiance lingering in the currents of existence. The space where she had stood was now a wound, in reality, a scar left by a battle beyond mortal comprehension.
But even in destruction, something remained. A fragment, a whisper, a lingering echo—drifting through time, waiting.
The remaining shadowy figures stood above where she made her final stand as the last of her power flickered out of existence.
"She's gone," one of them muttered, its voice laced with venom. "But her power is that of a Keeper; it will emerge again. We will find it. We will find them."
Another figure, cloaked in darkness, growled low, emitting a sense of pure frustration. "She was the last one. The others have hidden themselves well. But we will not be stopped."
The leader of the pursuers turned, their silhouette impossibly tall and shifting. "Patience. We are too weak now to continue. It will be millions, perhaps billions of years before we are strong enough to rise again. By then, new Keepers, new gods will have been chosen to replace the old."
"We must prepare for our return, and hers. When her power finds a new host, a Keeper, or even a vessel, they will be formidable. The Keepers have delayed our lord's descent into this plane, their power would have greatly sped up his awakening. But when we return, he shall surely wreak havoc."
And so they slowly disappeared, turning to dark clouds and zipping away. Although their mission was halted, it would never be stopped.
Resistance was futile. Their lord would rule.
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Ravenn awoke with a start, his small body drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The dream—no, the nightmare—lingered in his mind. He saw titanic beings wreathed in shadow, heard their voices crack reality, and felt the terror of running, running, running, until there was nowhere left to go. Then light, blinding and furious, swallowed everything.
His breath hitched as he clutched at his blankets. His room was dimly lit by the early morning glow filtering through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the ornate furnishings.
The Vaedricourt estate was grand, a sprawling palace of white stone and gilded accents perched upon the cliffs of their ancestral lands. Every inch of the estate spoke of power, from the towering arched windows to the spiraling obsidian pillars that lined the halls. Yet, for all its splendor, it was cold. It was a fortress built for legends, not for a child like him.
The room door creaked open, and a gentle voice broke the silence.
"Ravenn?"
His mother, Lady Isadora Vaedricourt, stepped inside, her soft features creased with concern. She was draped in a morning robe of deep blue, her raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders like flowing ink. In the dim light, her emerald eyes shimmered with warmth—warmth that few in this house ever spared for him.
Without a word, Ravenn threw himself into her arms, clinging to the fabric of her robe as he buried his face against her.
"I saw—I saw something terrible," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It felt real, almost like I was there."
She hushed him gently, stroking his hair, her hands warm and steady. "It was just a dream, my love. Nothing can harm you here."
Ravenn sniffled. "But it felt like—like the whole world, everything was ending."
"Even if the world crumbled, I would keep you safe," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Come now, dry your tears. We must get ready for the day."
With some effort, Ravenn forced himself to nod, though the unease still curled deep in his stomach.
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The training hall was a vast chamber of polished marble and towering pillars, lined with banners bearing the sigil of House Vaedricourt—a silver emblem of a sword entwined with ivy. The air was cool, tinged with the faint scent of burning incense meant to enhance focus.
Before him stood Master Aldrec, his Vis instructor, a rigid man with sharp features and a voice like cracking ice. His robes were crisp, lined with golden lace, yet his expression bore nothing but disdain as he watched Ravenn attempt, and fail, to summon even the faintest trace of power.
A sigh of disappointment. "Pathetic."
Ravenn flinched as Aldrec stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. "You bear the name Vaedricourt, yet you have no talent for Vis. Do you understand how disgraceful that is?"
The boy swallowed hard, staring at the floor.
Aldrec scoffed. "Do not avert your eyes. Weakness is a choice, and you seem determined to jump at said choice every chance you get."
Ravenn clenched his fists at his sides, shame creeping into his bones like a poison.
"You are dismissed," Aldrec said, already turning away. "I will not waste time on something so utterly hopeless any longer, your father's wishes be damned."
Biting back tears, Ravenn bowed stiffly and left without another word.
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The greenhouse was one of the only places in the estate that felt warm. Bathed in golden sunlight, vines crept up the crystalline walls, and flowers of every hue bloomed in perfect harmony. The air was rich with the scent of earth and fresh blossoms.
But, warmth did not mean safety.
He had barely set foot inside when a voice called out, smug and dripping with amusement.
"Look who it is—the little disappointment."
Ravenn froze.
Thomas, Louise, and Lee Ann stood near the entrance, their finely embroidered coats and gowns pristine, their golden hair glinting under the light filtering through the glass ceiling. They were everything he was not—strong, favored, true heirs of the Vaedricourt line.
"Still playing with plants, little rat?" Thomas sneered, cracking his knuckles. "No wonder you're useless."
Louise scoffed. "He probably thinks if he prays hard enough, the plants will grant him Vis, like that one Elven story."
Lee Ann giggled. "How sad."
Ravenn took a step back, but there was nowhere to run. Thomas struck first, shoving him hard against one of the stone planters. The impact sent pain lancing through his ribs.
"You shouldn't even be here," Thomas muttered, gripping Ravenn's collar and yanking him up. "Father should've thrown you and that whore out years ago."
The next strike came fast—Lee Ann's boot connecting with his shin, Louise's slap stinging across his cheek. He hit the ground hard, gasping. They laughed. He curled in on himself as the kicks came, sharp and cruel, bruising what little dignity he had left.
Then, as quickly as it started, it was over.
Thomas stepped back, shaking out his wrist. "Pathetic."
By the time Ravenn limped back to his room, his body ached with every step. He reached for the door handle—then froze.
Soft sobs drifted from within.
Slowly, he pushed open the door.
His mother sat on the floor, her hands trembling as she folded garments into a worn leather bag. Her shoulders shook, and her usually warm face was streaked with tears. She gasped when she saw him, hastily wiping her cheeks.
"Ravenn—darling, I—"
She swallowed hard.
"Your father has arranged a trip for us, my love. We must leave tonight."
Something in her tone made his stomach twist. He was only a child, only a few months to 6, but even he could tell what was happening.
He turned on his heel and ran.
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Lucas Vaedricourt's study was lavish, lined with bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and a grand mahogany desk at its center. The lord himself stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, his presence casting a suffocating weight over the room.
Ravenn hesitated in the doorway, his heart pounding. "Father…"
Lucas turned, his expression void of warmth. His wife stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with contempt.
"What have we done wrong?" Ravenn's voice cracked.
Lucas' expression darkened. "You were born."
The words hit harder than any strike.
His stepmother, the cruel woman, scoffed. "Finally admitting it?"
Tears burned in Ravenn's eyes. "But I can be better! You—you can't just send us away!" he yelled while walking to his father's side.
Lucas moved faster than he could react, backhanding him so hard he crashed back against the door through which he had entered. Pain flared in his cheek, but worse than the pain was the finality of it.
"Leave," his father said coldly. "And do not return."
As Ravenn fled the room, tears streamed down his face, but deep inside, a fire sparked—a silent promise.
He would be back.
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Winter stole everything.
The self-driving carriage carried them through snow-covered forests, far from the grandeur of their former home.
The cabin they arrived at was small, isolated, and surrounded by endless stretches of white. At first, they tried to make it a home.
His mother would light the small hearth, wrapping him in blankets, whispering stories of places they would go once they were free. But as the days passed, hope withered. She stopped humming. Stopped smiling. Her gaze drifted more often toward the snow-covered horizon as if looking for something—someone—that would never come.
Food ran low. Wood for the fire dwindled. She grew thinner, her cheeks hollow, her hands trembling when she tried to lift a spoon. She would brush Ravenn's hair back and whisper how much she loved him, but the light in her eyes was fading.
One morning, she didn't rise from bed.
Ravenn shook her and pleaded with her to wake up. She only smiled, touched his cheek, and whispered, "My little echo… you have to be strong."
Then she was gone.
For days, he stayed by her side, waiting for her to wake up, refusing to leave the cabin. But the cold was merciless. The hunger was unbearable.
So he left.
The cold was merciless. The wind howled, carving into his skin like a thousand invisible knives. His limbs felt heavy, his breath thin, each step harder than the last. Snow clung to his lashes, his vision blurring, his body trembling.
Then—darkness.
He collapsed.
As the last of his strength faded, as his breath slowed and darkness took him, something stirred. Something ancient. Something powerful.
A voice, distant yet near, like a sound carried across time. Deep, resonant. Unyielding.
"Do you wish to be forgotten? To have only been known as a disgrace?"
Ravenn's fingers twitched in the snow. His lips parted, breath shallow, words slipping past his frostbitten lips.
"No... I want more..."
"Then take my hand. How could you let him, that family, this world off for what has happened here? You are me after all."
Ravenn did not want revenge, no... he wanted to one day look at the Vaedricourts and be able to hold his head high. He wanted to carry his mother's legacy and change the world with it.
And so, Ravenn reached out and...
Then—light.
A figure loomed above him, his silhouette hazy against the falling snow, golden embers flickering at his back.
"Do you want to live?"
Ravenn's silver eyes, glowing softly with conviction, met his.
Pushing his near-dead body back to its feet, he stared into the eyes of this stranger.
"I want... to live."