The night smelled of smoke and blood.
Ian ran. His breath came in ragged gasps, each step pounding against the forest floor. The towering trees of Eldoria's Woods surrounded him, their twisted limbs reaching for the moonlight. Shadows stretched like grasping hands, but no matter how deep he ran, he could not escape the echoes of the past few hours.
The clash of steel.
The screams.
The fire consuming his home.
His chest burned with every breath. He stumbled over a root, barely catching himself before falling. His palms scraped against rough bark, leaving behind smears of blood. He was trembling, his body weak with exhaustion—but he could not stop.
Because if he stopped, he would die
Only hours ago, he had been safe, cradled in his mother's arms, wrapped in the warmth of silken sheets. He could still feel her gentle fingers stroking his hair, her voice a soft whisper.
Then the doors burst open.
Screams. Chaos. Blood.
The memory hit him like a blade, and for a brief moment, his body faltered, his knees buckling. But then—
A twig snapped.
Ian's breath hitched. He pressed himself against a tree, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Silence. Then—a rustle in the undergrowth.
Someone—or something—was following him.
He swallowed hard, the taste of fear thick on his tongue. And then, he ran.
"A FEW HOURS EARLIER"
The Imperial Chamber of Indrath was a marvel of craftsmanship, a place where opulence met divine artistry. Towering columns of white jade stretched toward an arched ceiling adorned with golden constellations—each star meticulously embedded with enchanted gems that shimmered like the real night sky.
A vast crystal chandelier hung at the center, its countless facets refracting light into a mesmerizing cascade of colors. The floors were polished obsidian, their dark surfaces reflecting the room's grandeur like a mirror. Intricate silver engravings spiraled across the walls, weaving tales of Indrath's past—of kings and conquerors, of gods who once walked alongside mortals.
At the far end of the chamber, an ornate bed rested atop a raised platform, its canopy woven from celestial silk. The sheets, soft as whispers, carried the faint scent of moon lilies, a flower that only bloomed under the empire's sacred light. Near the bedside, a dressing table of enchanted oak stood adorned with artifacts, delicate ornaments, and a small intricately carved box—one that thrummed with an unseen power.
Grand stained-glass windows stretched along the chamber's walls, their ethereal glow painting the room with soft hues of blue and gold. Beyond them, the vast capital of the Indrath Empire sprawled beneath the evening sky, its towering spires illuminated by the glow of countless lanterns.
The chamber was a sanctuary of power and tranquility. Yet, tonight, that peace was about to be shattered.
Ian lay nestled in his mother's lap, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. He was a child of delicate but noble features—silky black hair that fell in soft waves over his forehead, and deep sapphire-blue eyes that stood in stark contrast to his parents' darker hues. His frame was a little skinny, but his face carried the refined grace of his royal bloodline.
His mother, Queen Lysandra Indrath, was breathtaking. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face of quiet elegance—a straight nose, a small mouth, and piercing black eyes filled with both warmth and wisdom. Even in a simple silk gown, she exuded an aura of regality.
As she stroked Ian's hair, he sighed softly, his body relaxing into the warmth of her embrace.
"Mother, where is Father?" Ian asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
The queen smiled, her fingers brushing gently over his forehead. "Ian, my son, your father has his royal duties to perform as the ruler of this empire."
Ian pouted, his small fingers curling around a loose thread on her gown. "But he said he would teach me new sword techniques."
The queen's expression turned serious. "He will, Ian. But you must be patient."But you must be patient. As the heir to this great nation, you must learn its duties and strive to be as strong as your father."
"But I can't even use mana… how can I become the strongest in the empire like father?" Ian muttered, his disappointment clear.
The queen chuckled softly. "No, my son. Strength isn't just about mana. A ruler's power comes from more than magic. Will, wisdom, and the courage to stand when no one else can—these are true strength. You just have to work hard."
Ian nodded slowly, though doubt still lingered in his young heart.
And then he asked, ''but what if i remain the weakest like this ?,,
"Then you just have to study hard on our history and learn how to make this empire even greater with your mind," the queen replied, her tone soft.''
"As they spoke of the empire and Ian's future, the queen suddenly felt something—"
"A strange pressure that settled over the whole chamber as if some sinister being were watching them"
It was faint at first, like a whisper in the air. The queen's hand paused against Ian's head, her black eyes flickering toward the door. A wrongness seeped into the room, though nothing had changed.
Then—
Boom.
A distant tremor shook the palace, rattling the chandelier. Outside, muffled shouts erupted in the distance. A loud bell tolled through the night, its sharp peal shattering the fragile silence.
Ian sat up abruptly. "Mother—"
The great chamber doors creaked open.
A man stepped inside.
His presence was suffocating.
"The man stepped forward, clad in obsidian armor that drank the light. The air itself thickened, pressing against the queen's chest like an unseen force. He moved without sound, and when Ian met his gaze—clouded, unfocused, yet terrifyingly aware—his blood ran cold
But it was his eyes that sent a shiver down Ian's spine.
They were clouded, unfocused, as if the soul behind them had long since decayed, lifeless, yet aware.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" the queen's voice was sharp, edged with both fury and fear. Her gaze locked onto the intruder.
"Guards!" she called, her voice ringing through the chamber.
Silence.
A chill crawled up her spine. "I said, guards!" Still, no reply. The palace, once alive with the constant presence of her protectors, had fallen into an eerie stillness.
Ian clutched the fabric of her robes, his breath shallow. The intruder took a step forward, the dim torchlight glinting off something—armor, perhaps? Or worse.
The man did not react. He moved with eerie calm, his silence more menacing than any threat.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached for his sword. The whisper of steel sliding from its scabbard sent a chill through the air. Then, with a single breath, he released his spirit.
A force surged through the chamber—an invisible pressure that pressed against the queen's chest, heavy as a tidal wave. The torches flickered violently, their flames shrinking as if cowering from the presence now unfurling before the man
"Ian gasped, his grip on her robes tightening as the suffocating pressure around them grew"
The queen reacted instantly. With a swift movement, she first ensured Ian's safety and then she yanked open the drawer of her dressing table, retrieving a small stone etched with ancient runes. It pulsed with a faint energy.
She pressed it into Ian's hands before unsheathing her sword in a single, fluid motion.
"Ian, listen," she said, her voice urgent but calm. "Run. Hide. Do not come out until your father returns. Can you do that for me?" She understood the garvity of the situation just by being in the presence of that man as she insisted Ian to run ,,
Ian's throat tightened. "But Mother—"
"Go!"
After saying that to Ian ,she launched herself at the man with her sword,,
"Steel clashed against steel as the queen attacked the intruder, her blade a blur of practiced precision. Yet, the man did not block or strike back—he merely shifted, slipping past each attack as if he had seen them all before."
"After exchanging a few blows, Lysandra stepped back, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She braced for the next attack, gripping her sword tighter."
Then,
The man spoke for the first time,,
"It's no use, Emperor Raven Indrath is already dead."
The queen's blade halted mid-swing.
"Ian, frozen at the doorway, turned, his heart slamming against his ribs."
"You're lying!" Ian screamed.
The queen's eyes widened. "Ian, I told you to run!"
"The man's gaze shifted toward Ian."
Lysandra took that opportunity and with a swing of her hand she casted a spell on the floor . The floor beneath the intruder collapsed, dust and stone erupting into the air.
As the floor collapsed lysandra took full advantage of that opportunity as she grabbed Ian with her both hands and jumped into the secret passage hidden behind the dressing table,,
The moment Ian's mother yanked him through the secret passage, the walls trembled with the force of an unseen explosion. As they slid through the narrow tunnel, a wave of blistering heat and thick, acrid smoke rushed in, stinging their lungs and forcing Ian to cough.
The passage's exit led to a hidden courtyard behind the palace, a place meant for safety—but there was no safety left. Beyond the stone archway, the city was burning.
The once-proud capital of the Indrath Empire was now a graveyard of fire and ruin. The night sky, once clear and silver-lit, was choked with thick black smoke. Flames roared from the palace's outer walls, illuminating the streets with an eerie orange glow.
The scent of charred wood and blood filled the air, heavy and suffocating. Screams echoed through the streets. Some were war cries, others shouts of desperation—but the worst were the ones that suddenly stopped.
The queen gripped Ian's hand tightly as they ran. She didn't look back, didn't hesitate. Her movements were precise, calculated—but Ian could feel her urgency.
All around them, corpses of soldiers and civilians littered the stone paths. Some had been cut down mid-run, their lifeless eyes reflecting the firelight. Others had been crushed beneath fallen debris, their hands still reaching for escape that never came.
Ian's chest heaved with panic, his small legs struggling to keep up. His mother, always so composed, was now covered in soot and sweat. Yet, her grip on his hand never loosened.
A sudden explosion rocked the city. One of the palace's outer towers collapsed in a thunderous crash, sending shards of marble flying like deadly shrapnel.
Ian flinched as a nearby building crumbled into dust, the shockwave nearly knocking him off his feet. He staggered, his vision blurred by smoke and tears. His lungs burned. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst.
"Mother—!" he choked out.
She didn't stop. "We're almost there," she said, voice strained but firm. "Hold on just a little longer."
They turned a sharp corner, leaving the city's main streets behind. The air here was quieter—not safe, but quieter.
Ahead of them, the towering trees of Eldoria's Woods loomed like silent guardians. The forest, untouched by the flames, stretched endlessly into darkness.
The queen didn't stop, didn't hesitate—until they reached Eldoria's Woods.
The queen dropped to her knees before Ian, cupping his face with both hands.
As Ian took some time to to calm himself from the shock lysandra fixed her clothes and took the sword in her grip and said,,
"You must stay here Ian",
"But why?" he asked, his eyes filling with tears
"Listen, Ian as the queen of this empire my duty is to protect its citizens from danger ,"she replied her voice firm,,
"I can go with you!" He protested, his voice trembling.
The queen's expression tightened, but she forced a smile. "No, my son. If you come with me, you will die. Do you understand?"
Ian's throat tightened.
"B-but, Mother—"
She pressed something cold into his hands.
The stone.
She opened her mouth as if to say something more—but then, she stopped herself.
Her black eyes lingered on Ian for a moment longer, filled with something unspoken.
"Then, without another word, she turned. The last thing Ian saw was the glint of her sword before the shadows swallowed her whole."
Ian stood frozen, watching her silhouette disappear between the towering trees of Eldoria's Woods.
And just like that, she was gone.
The forest was silent.
"And for the first time in his life—he was alone."