The jungle was thick with shadows, the towering trees casting long, gnarled fingers across the forest floor.
Ian ran, his breath ragged, his body trembling from exhaustion and fear. His mother's words rang in his ears—I'll crush those bad guys and come back, okay?—but they were beginning to feel like a distant dream. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that she would return. But as he stumbled through the undergrowth, his feet sinking into the damp soil, he couldn't shake the cold grip of doubt.
Behind him, the sounds of pursuit had faded, but he knew the soldiers were still searching. If they found him, there would be no mercy. His only chance was to keep moving.
"I have to keep running. If I don't, they'll capture me," he murmured to himself in a shaky voice.
Ian pushed forward, forcing his aching legs to carry him deeper into the jungle. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get as far away from the city as possible. His vision blurred with tears, and his lungs burned, but he refused to stop. The weight of the stone his mother had given him pressed against his palm, a silent reminder that he was not completely alone.
Then, as he wove between two massive roots, the ground suddenly gave way beneath his feet.
Ian tumbled downward, his body twisting in the air before crashing onto cold, unyielding rock. Pain exploded through him, but he barely had time to register it before he began sliding down a steep incline. The world spun in darkness until, at last, his momentum slowed, and he came to a shuddering halt on a flat surface.
Ian's breath caught. A cave? He had fallen into a cave.
"Ugh… what just happened?" Ian muttered, blinking rapidly as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.
The air was damp, the scent of moss and earth thick in his nose. Far above, moonlight barely trickled through the narrow opening he had fallen through, leaving the cave shrouded in an eerie twilight. The only sound was the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance.
"Ugh…" Ian groaned, his body aching all over.
Ian winced as he pushed himself up, feeling the sting of fresh bruises across his arms and legs. He had no idea how deep underground he was, but for now, he was safe from the soldiers. He took a shaky breath and leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to calm his racing heart.
His fingers tightened around the stone in his hand. His mother had given it to him for protection, but he had no idea how it could help him now. The weight of helplessness settled over him, crushing and inescapable.
As he was observing his wounds and contemplating on what to do he then suddenly heard some distant echoes of footsteps.
Ian stiffened, his breath hitching. He wasn't alone.
The steps grew louder, reverberating off the cavern walls. Ian pressed himself against the rock, his heart hammering. Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.
A soldier in his mid-20s, broad-shouldered and imposing, emerged form the shadows. Beside him, a shorter, stockier soldier followed, his sharp eyes scanning the area
Ian's blood ran cold. The man's armor gleamed even in the dim light, and the cruel sneer on their face sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him.
"Hey, Kane, do you think it's necessary for us to search this forest?" the bulky soldier asked.
"Why are you asking me that? Go ask the captain," Kane replied, his tone laced with irritation. He barely spared a glance before turning away, clearly unwilling to entertain the question any further.
"Ugh, what a mess," Kane grumbled. "I should've made some excuse to the captain. I don't want to search this whole damn forest for escapees."
"What can we do?" the the bulky man muttered, frustration evident in his voice. "If Raven Indrath had just agreed to submit, none of this would've happened." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he scanned the burning horizon.
"The weak and foolish Raven Indrath and his queen," kane spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "They thought they could rule with kindness and compassion. But they were blind to the true nature of power."
Ian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to fight back, to scream that his parents were not weak, but he knew the truth—the soldier was right about one thing. Ian was weak. He had no mana, no power to stop them.
The bulky man , replied. "The entire Indrath clan and empire have been eradicated. But the prince… he's nowhere to be found."
A scoff. "Even if we find him, he's no threat. The prince is weak. Barely any mana in his core. He doesn't even know how to use it."
Ian's breath caught. The shame was unbearable, burning like fire in his chest. He had always struggled to harness his mana, but he never thought it would make him useless.
"What about Queen Lysandra? I heard she was quite strong for her age," the bulky man said, his voice surprisingly respectful toward the queen.
"Yes, she is indeed strong, but what can she do in front of absolute power?" Kane replied, his tone edged with cynicism.
"And what are we going to do with the prisoners?" The bulky soldier's words made Ian's heart sink.
"Kane, the man who had spoken, replied in a cold tone, 'The higher-ups will decide this we don't have any right to say we are just foot soldiers,"
From the darkness of the cave, Ian watched as the soldiers moved through the dense undergrowth, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. The flickering glow of distant fires cast eerie shadows through the trees, and the lingering scent of smoke clung to the air. Every snapped twig and rustling leaf kept them on edge, but they pressed on, their conversation a brief distraction from the grim task at hand.
Every second felt endless as the soldiers lingered, their voices cutting through the silence like a blade. Then, finally, they turned and left, their footsteps fading into the jungle beyond.
Ian sagged against the cave wall, his body trembling. His mother was out there, facing them alone. He couldn't sit here, hiding like a coward.
He had to find her.
Ian hesitated for a few minutes, torn between staying hidden or venturing out to find his mother and
with renewed determination, Ian climbed to his feet. His body ached, his muscles weak from exhaustion, but he ignored the pain. Clutching the stone in his hand, he made his way out of the cave and back into the depths of the jungle.
"As he left the cave, he started running toward the city. After hours of running and passing countless trees, exhaustion weighed heavily on him."
Ian's legs felt like lead, his breath ragged. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision, but he forced himself forward.
His breath came in ragged gasps, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn't dare stop. If he stopped, he might never start again.
His body screamed for rest, but the image of his mother's determined face kept him moving. He gritted his teeth, wiping his trembling hands on his tattered clothes. The world around him spun for a moment, and he caught himself against the rough bark of a tree, his fingers digging into the grooves as if it were the only thing keeping him standing.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the forest. A sharp cramp twisted through his stomach—he hadn't eaten in hours. His legs wobbled as he pushed forward, each step an act of sheer willpower.
As he bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath, he forced himself to keep moving. Step by step, he walked toward the forest's exit. Then, just as he finally reached the edge, a wave of dizziness struck him. His knees buckled, and he fell forward, catching himself just in time.
He took a shuddering breath, then lifted his head—only to be met with a sight that made his exhaustion vanish in an instant, replaced by cold, unrelenting dread.
The capital was unrecognizable.
"No... this can't be real." Ian's breath hitched as he stared at the burning skyline. The towering structures that once stood proud were now nothing more than collapsing ruins, swallowed by raging flames. The air was thick with smoke, suffocating, as if the city itself was choking on its own destruction
What had once been the heart of the Indrath Empire—a place of beauty, of history, of power—was now a wasteland. The streets, once filled with the laughter of children and the chatter of merchants, were empty, as if the soul of the city had been torn away.
Around the streets of the city, corpses lay scattered everywhere. Blood pooled in the cracks of the stone roads, soaking into the earth as if the city itself wept for its fallen. The people had been massacred without mercy—women, men, and children alike. Their lifeless eyes stared blankly at the sky, their final moments frozen in expressions of terror and agony. The stench of death hung thick in the air, mingling with the smoke of the burning ruins. This was no battlefield—it was slaughter.
"Why? What did they do to deserve this?" He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. There was no honor in this. No justification. This wasn't war. This was cruelty.
His heart pounded with something beyond fear—beyond sorrow. A cold, searing rage clawed its way into his chest, burning hotter than the flames consuming the city.
As he moved forward the scent of smoke and blood clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The towering spires that had once reached for the heavens were now nothing more than shattered husks, their stone faces marred with the scars of battle. The once-proud banners of his family lay tattered on the ground, soaked in mud and ash,
his feet unsteady on the broken cobblestones. His heart pounded with every step, his pulse a deafening drum in his ears.
Where was his mother? His father? Was anyone still alive?
He forced himself to keep moving, his body driven by the desperate need to find answers. The silence of the city was oppressive, like a beast waiting to consume him whole.
Then, in the distance, he saw it—the citadel.
The seat of his family's power. The place he had grown up, where he had spent his days studying, playing, dreaming of a future that no longer existed.
Its gates, once a symbol of the empire's strength, now hung crookedly from their hinges, their heavy iron shattered like brittle glass. The walls bore deep scars, blackened from fire and torn open by siege weapons.
He saw the same scene he saw in the city
as corpses were scattered everywhere—citizens, enemy soldiers, and his own people alike. Blood soaked the ground, forming dark, dried patches on the ruined streets. The sight was overwhelming, but what unsettled Ian the most was the eerie silence.
No guards. No enemy patrols. Nothing.
Ian's breath hitched as he scanned his surroundings. Why was no one here? The city had been taken, yet it was completely unguarded. It didn't make sense.
Something was wrong. Too quiet. Too empty. Ian's pulse quickened as the truth settled in—it wasn't an abandoned city. It was a stage, waiting for its prey. Ian clenched his fists, his heart pounding. He had to be careful.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted towards the entrance. His legs burned, his chest ached, but he couldn't stop. He had to know.
The towering doors loomed before him, the darkness within like an open maw. Ian swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the stone his mother had given him.
He took a step forward.
And then another.
With one final breath, he crossed the threshold into the abyss.