The sky bled crimson as the sun dipped beneath the edge of the sea, casting long shadows over the charred remains of a once-thriving village. Smoke still clung to the scorched thatch roofs, and the bitter scent of salt and death hung in the air like a curse.
In the center of the ruins knelt a boy—barely sixteen summers—his trembling fingers brushing the scorched necklace of his younger sister, now nothing more than ash and silence. His name was Kael.
He did not cry. The tears had long since dried, replaced by a hollow fury that simmered in his chest like molten stone.
"They came from the sea," whispered the last words of an elder as he bled out beside him. "The Ocean Warlord… a rider of the Abyss… his dragons were tides of fire…"
Kael had heard the legends. Creatures that once ruled the deep: serpents with wings of coral, krakens wrapped in lightning, and men who rode them—monsters cloaked in magic and steel. But legends had become real that day. And one of them—the Ocean Warlord—had burned his home to nothing.
He clenched the amulet tight in his fist, the edges cutting into his skin. Not just monsters... he was hunting a god.