The sky choked under black clouds—no light could pierce through. The air trembled with screams, raw and guttural, cries of pain and death. Rivers ran crimson, their waters thick with blood. Soldiers fled toward the castle, desperate for refuge, but the Great Demon showed no mercy. One by one, they fell—until only the emperor of Attherion remained, his body turned to stone, a silent guardian against the tide of darkness.
The lady closed the book with a soft thud and looked at her child curled beside her. "That," she whispered, "is how the demons came to power."
The boy's eyes shimmered with hope. "Mom… will the king return?"
She hesitated. The lie tasted bitter, but she forced a smile."Yes. One day, the emperor will come back to finish the fight he lost." Even as she spoke, she knew the truth—the legends were just stories. But her son needed hope. She pressed a warm kiss to his forehead before leaving, her heart heavy.
The boy lay there, mind racing. How powerful was the emperor? Was he handsome? Would I fight beside him when he returned? Lost in dreams of glory, he drifted into sleep.
Then—a scream tore through the night.
His eyes snapped open. Heart pounding, he scrambled from bed, fear clawing at his throat. "Mom?" No answer. The scream came again, shrill and panicked. He crept to the window—and froze.
Bodies hung from the village oak, swaying like macabre fruit. His breath hitched.
Before he could process the horror, his mother burst into the room, gripping his arm."Run!"
Demons flooded their home—twisted, snarling things with jagged teeth and hollow eyes. The boy's legs locked. Am I going to die? Will I never meet the emperor?
Then—silence.
A melody drifted through the air, soft as a lullaby. The demons halted, heads tilting in confusion.
By the window sat a man, lazily playing a flute. Dressed in white baggy pants and a light-blue coat, sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looked almost bored. His gaze met the boy's, and with a flick of his wrist, he tucked the flute into his belt.
He moved.
Stones flew from his palm like bullets, each one striking true—thud, thud, thud. Demon after demon collapsed, heads punctured clean through.
"This place isn't safe," the man said, voice calm. "Head north. The journey won't be easy, but don't stop. You'll find sanctuary there."
The boy stared, awestruck. His mother trembled but managed to whisper, "Won't you come with us?"
The man smirked. "Business to finish." With that, he was gone—vanishing like smoke.
Without another word, the woman clutched her son's hand and ran into the night.
Deep in the earth, hidden in a cavern where only crickets dared to chirp, a stone statue stood—silent, forgotten.
Then—a crack.
The shell splintered, shedding like dead skin. Crimson eyes burned to life—one blood-red, the other gold like a wolf's. His hair, split black and crimson, framed a face carved by war.
The last remnants of stone shattered as he stepped forward—6'3", broad-shouldered, clad in a crimson coat lined with gold. The symbol of a trident gleamed upon his chest. Black cargo pants hugged his legs, leather boots silent against the earth.
He inhaled—the first breath in centuries.
The emperor had returned.
And the demons would soon learn fear.
"It's been a long time," Kael muttered, his voice rough from disuse. He rolled his shoulders, stretching stiff muscles, then turned toward the cave's mouth. The world beyond was a mystery now—one he intended to unravel.
"Time to kick some demon ass."
Climbing toward the exit, he frowned. The cave's warmth clung to him, but the outside air hit like a blade—biting, brutal. The wind howled, gnawing at his bones. He retreated, scanning the shadows for his old weapon. All he found was the shattered remnant of a blade.
"You've got to be joking," he growled. "Am I really facing demons bare-handed?"
A glint of water caught his eye. The cave's warmth suggested a spring, and sure enough, a thin stream trickled along the stone. He unhooked the gourd at his waist—an ancient relic that purified any liquid—and filled it. The water tasted unchanged, crisp as it had a thousand years ago. Some things, at least, remained the same.
Steeling himself, he stepped back into the cold.
The sky hadn't changed. Still choked with the same bruised clouds from the day hell broke loose. "Is anyone left?" he whispered.
A growl cut through the wind.
Kael snapped into a fighting stance. "Come on out, wolfey," he taunted. "I don't bite."
Something lunged—not a wolf, but a nightmare given flesh. Spikes jutted from its hunched back, its maw dripping blackened saliva. It slammed into him, pinning him to the frozen earth.
"Ugh. Bad dog."
He drove a fist into its gut, hurling it back. The demon skidded, hissing. Kael brushed snow from his coat. "First fight in a millennium, and I get you?" He smirked. "Try to keep up."
The demon charged. Kael twisted, but claws grazed his ribs, sending him crashing through a stand of brittle pines. Pain flared. "Damn it—why aren't my powers working?" He raised his hands, mimicking the fluid motions of waterbending. Nothing.
The demon pounced again—
—And a stranger intercepted it.
One hand clamped around the creature's throat. A crunch. The demon dropped, lifeless.
Kael blinked. The man standing over him wore a blue coat, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a flute tucked at his belt. Snow dusted his white pants, but he didn't seem to feel the cold.
"You alright?" the man asked.
Kael nodded warily.
"Name's Veylin." A smile, too knowing. "And you're Kael. I've been waiting for you"