The Black Forest was thinning now, but not because they were nearing the edge. No, the deeper they moved, the more the trees seemed to retreat—curling back like frightened animals. And that's when they saw it: a clearing of stone ruins blanketed in fog, ancient carvings glowing faintly beneath moss and time.
Cornelius stood still.
"I've seen this before," he said softly.
Mira raised a brow. "Where?"
"In my dreams," he answered. "When I first started to change…"
The ruins pulsed with a rhythm—slow and steady, like a heartbeat. At the center of it all stood a shattered throne made of obsidian, split clean down the middle.
Aziel approached it. "This place… it wasn't just a sanctuary. It was a kingdom."
"A cursed one," Mira whispered.
Suddenly, from behind the broken pillars, shadows began to move. Dozens. Maybe more. Cloaked in ash and smoke, humanoid forms emerged, each with glowing marks across their faces—outcasts. Not living. Not dead.
The leader stepped forward. His face was hidden, but his voice was unmistakable.
"Hello, little brother."
Cornelius froze. "Lucas…"
Lucas removed his hood, revealing a jagged mask of bone over half his face. The other half showed cruel beauty and scarred truth. "Did you really think I wouldn't be here waiting? That I wouldn't be watching you take each foolish step deeper into your doom?"
"You were my brother," Cornelius growled. "What happened to you?"
Lucas laughed—dark, bitter. "What happened to us, you mean. You were chosen. I was forgotten. I begged the gods to notice me… and when they didn't, I found new gods."
He raised a black blade. "They gave me purpose. Power. And now, you'll taste it."
The ruins erupted with magic. The outcasts surged forward, blades and claws drawn. Mira screamed a protective chant, shielding Aziel and herself in a dome of light.
Cornelius charged Lucas.
Their clash was cataclysmic. Magic burst from each strike—claw meeting sword, blood meeting fire. Cornelius moved like a beast, but thought like a man. Lucas… he was cold. Calculating. Every strike meant to cripple, to wound, to humiliate.
"You were never meant to lead them!" Lucas shouted mid-battle. "You're still just that boy no one loved."
Cornelius's eyes burned bright gold. "I may have been born unloved… but I'll die protecting the ones who stayed!"
He tackled Lucas into the shattered throne, breaking more stone. Lucas threw him off, coughing blood.
Meanwhile, Aziel fought with three shadows at once, slicing through them with raw fury. Mira blasted another with an arrow of light, but she was weakening fast.
Cornelius stood again, chest heaving. "You killed our family."
Lucas smiled. "No. You did. I just watched."
That was the final thread.
Cornelius roared and lunged—not with rage this time, but with purpose. He pinned Lucas and slashed his mask off, revealing the twisted face beneath—part man, part something darker.
Lucas choked, blood pouring from his mouth. "This isn't over. I've only opened the first gate."
Cornelius leaned in close. "Then I'll be waiting at the next."
He knocked him unconscious.
The remaining shadows hissed and faded, like smoke caught in wind.
The battle was over. For now.
Mira limped toward Cornelius, blood on her hands, eyes wide. "That wasn't just a fight… it was a warning."
Aziel helped her stand. "He said something about a gate."
Cornelius stared at the sky, which was starting to burn violet. "This was only the first. There are more."
Behind the ruins, a stone door began to rise, glowing with symbols none of them could read—but all of them feared.
"What now?" Aziel asked.
Cornelius stepped toward it.
"We go through," he said, "because this isn't just about me anymore. It's about all of us. The war that's coming… I won't run from it."
As the stone creaked open and darkness beckoned beyond it, Cornelius took the first step, his friends beside him.
Beyond that door… a new world waited.
One that would either break them—or make them legends.