Six years later...
The once war-torn city has found peace. The scars remain, but life has slowly rebuilt itself.
Luna stands on a balcony of a tall stone tower, watching the sunrise. Beside her, a boy with wild silver hair and piercing blue eyes gazes at the horizon Draven's son.
Luna softly.
He used to say the sky burned brightest before the storm...
The boy looks up.
Mom... do you think he's still out there?
Luna hesitating, a soft smile.
Your father wasn't the kind of man who just disappears… One day, you'll understand why.
Midnight trains the boy, shaping him into a warrior but with more control than his father ever had.
They speak of Draven not as a legend, but as a man one who carried burdens alone.
Your father was a storm... But storms always leave something behind fire, ash... or growth.
The Myths Begin to Move.
Whispers come from travelers.
A cloaked man with a scythe-shaped shadow walking through cursed lands.
A figure that saved villages then vanished like smoke.
The boy, now eager and restless, begins to dream of going after him.
But Luna keeps a secret she's seen signs.
Old messages hidden in fire. Symbols only Draven would use.
Late one night, Luna descends into the basement of the old tower. There, hidden behind layers of stone and enchantments, lies a room only she and Draven knew about. Candles flicker on their own as she enters.
On the wall: a faded sigil scorched into the stone the mark of Draven's blue flame. Below it, a message burned in char.
The day the sky bleeds, I return.
Luna's eyes widen. She clutches a small, glowing stone a fragment of Draven's old scythe. It's warm again.
He's alive…
A World in Dread
Far beyond the city, the world is changing.
Storms rage in places once peaceful.
Animals flee lands as if hunted by shadows.
A celestial event is whispered in old prophecies a red eclipse that marks the rise of a world-ending force called The Hollow Star.
Kingdoms begin to fall. Nations arm themselves.
And always, just before disaster strikes, villagers speak of a cloaked warrior with glowing eyes a ghost who fights alone.
Son's Choice
The boy let's name him Kael for now overhears Luna and Midnight discussing the signs.
If you believe he's alive… why don't we go after him?
Midnight lays a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder.
Because sometimes... chasing ghosts only gets you lost.
But Kael doesn't agree. That night, he takes the glowing shard and sneaks out of the tower.
The Sky Bleeds
Luna awakens to red light flooding the windows. The eclipse has begun — the day Draven warned of.
Thunder rolls. A pillar of blue flame erupts in the distance.
Everyone rushes to the tower's highest point.
Midnight shocked.
That's not just magic… that's him.
As the flame burns brighter a silhouette appears at its core. Cloaked. Scarred. Holding a new weapon... a resurrected scythe, forged of blue flame and black steel.
Not all who disappear are lost... Some are reborn in silence.
Ravaged Forest at the Edge of the Eastern Wastes
Kael runs through the charred remains of an old battlefield. The shard of Draven's scythe glows hot in his hand, reacting to something… or someone. But he's not alone.
Suddenly, shadows emerge figures in dark, warped armor with glowing red eyes. Not human. Twisted soldiers of The Hollow Star.
Kael stands firm, eyes wide, breath trembling.
You want a fight? You'll get one!
He tries to defend himself, channeling the scythe's energy instinctively a faint blue spark erupts from the shard. One attacker falls, but more close in.
Luna and Midnight Arrive
From the treetops a silver blur drops down. It's Luna. Her blade slices through enemies with precision. Midnight crashes through moments later like a storm, his fists glowing with runes.
Kael! What were you thinking?!
Midnight while fighting.
You've got guts, kid. But next time, wait for backup!
The three fight side by side, Kael holding his own surprisingly well. But it's clear this new army is more than they expected they move like they're guided by a hive mind.
Just as they begin to get overwhelmed.
A Blue Inferno
A sudden explosion of blue flame wipes the battlefield clean. Everything stops. Time seems to freeze.
Kael stares ahead his mouth slowly opening.
Through the smoke walks a familiar figure.
Cloaked. Burned armor. Glowing blue eyes beneath a cracked skull mask.
He holds a reborn scythe larger, darker, but burning with the same soul.
No one hurts my family.
Luna drops her weapon, stunned. Midnight breathes out in disbelief.
Kael stares at the man he's only heard stories of.
Kael softly.
...Dad?
The battlefield is still. The enemy falters, sensing something ancient… and enraged.
Draven walks forward slowly, the new scythe trailing fire behind him. His breath is heavy, distorted. The blue flames around him twist violently uncontrollable.
One of the shadow generals lunges.
Draven doesn't flinch.
In one savage motion, he rips through the general with such force the sky splits open for a brief instant. Blood and shadow scatter like ash.
Another enemy. Another.
He doesn't stop. Doesn't speak. He's not fighting. He's erasing.
Kael frightened, whispering to Luna.
Wait… who the hell is he…? He's terrifying…
Luna quietly, her eyes locked on Draven.
That is the one you call your father…
She exhales, emotion tight in her throat.
He is not a hero, boy.
I see him only one way…
I call him their last mistake.
The gods call him a legend.
But he was not born for peace…
He was not made for mercy…
His soul was forged in betrayal…
Broken a thousand times.
Kael's eyes widen. The ground beneath Draven's feet cracks.
Draven roars not in rage, but in pain. As if every enemy he slays tears open a wound inside him.
The battlefield is a ruin of fire, ash, and screams. Draven stands at the center, glowing with power, drenched in blood and flame. His eyes empty. The scythe crackles with unstable energy, the blue flames lashing at friend and foe alike.
Draven lifts his scythe again, shaking.
A survivor barely clinging to life crawls away.
Kael steps forward slowly.
He's shaking. Terrified. But he walks toward his father.
Stop…
Draven doesn't react. The scythe begins to rise again.
Kael yelling now.
STOP!
Draven freezes.
Kael walks closer, fists clenched, tears in his eyes.
You always say monsters took everything from you.
But look at you right now.
You're becoming the very thing you hate.
Draven turns slowly. His eyes wild, burning. But in them… a flicker. Recognition.
Kael stands firm.
"If you lose yourself…
Then who's going to teach me how to fight like you?
How to protect like you…?
Who's going to be my dad?"
Silence.
The flames around Draven begin to calm. The scythe dims.
Draven's knees buckle. He drops the weapon. Breathes. Slowly.
His eyes regain their humanity.
He falls to one knee.
Draven hoarse, barely a whisper.
…I'm sorry.
Kael rushes to him, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.
Luna and Midnight watch from a distance, moved but silent.
Luna whispering to herself.
You came back to us…
Draven kneels, arms loosely around Kael. The chaos has died down. The battlefield is silent. The flames have faded. The others keep their distance.
Kael looks up at him, eyes wide, waiting for something.
Draven avoids his son's gaze. His voice is low. Ragged.
…You've learned more from your uncle than you ever could from me.
He swallows hard
I was never meant to be a father… just a weapon someone forgot to put down.
He finally looks at Kael, pain hidden behind a small, broken smile.
You're a good kid. But me… I'm just a lost cause.
Kael frowns. He grips Draven's cloak tighter.
That's not true.
He presses his forehead to Draven's.
You came back for me. You always come back.
Draven's shoulders shake, just slightly. His hand rests on Kael's head, trembling.
Midnight watches from the shadows. Luna wipes a tear.
Luna softly to herself.
He still sees himself as a monster… but to that boy, he's the whole world.
The sun sets behind them, painting the sky in deep golds and reds. The city gates stand tall, banners fluttering in the wind. Word of Draven's return has already spread like wildfire.
As Draven walks beside Luna, Midnight, and Kael bruised, blood-stained, but unbroken the gates open.
A thunderous sound rises. Not of war, but of people. Cheers. Applause.
Soldiers stand in perfect lines, saluting. Veterans kneel. Civilians line the streets, tossing flower petals from rooftops and balconies. Children point in awe.
Crowd Chanting in Waves.
Draven! Draven! The White Phantom returns!
Old banners long hidden are raised once again bearing the sigil of his former army, a scythe wreathed in blue fire.
Luna grips his hand tightly. Kael stares wide-eyed. Midnight smiles, just a little.
A child rushes past the guards. Draven instinctively kneels as she throws her arms around his neck.
You protected us again, didn't you?
Draven is still. Then he nods. One slow nod.
Kael says softly to Luna.
They really… love him.
Luna answering.
No. They remember him. That's the difference.
As they walk through the crowd, petals fall like snow. Draven looks up at the sky, lost in thought haunted, but whole for a moment.
A voice echoes from the crowd a veteran, scarred but proud.
Welcome home, Scourge of Shadows. Welcome home, Protector of the Fallen.
Draven finally speaks his voice calm, deep, resonant.
…I'm no hero. But I'll keep standing… as long as you all keep believing.
The crowd erupts once more. The legend has returned not perfect, not whole, but needed.
A quiet garden within the city walls. The moon is high, casting a silver glow across the stone paths and trees. Fireflies dance between lanterns. Draven sits on a stone bench, his armor partially removed, revealing bandaged scars. Kael sits across from him, legs swinging nervously.
Silence lingers not heavy, but unsure. Kael clutches a small wooden carving of a scythe.
You were amazing out there… Like a storm with eyes.
Draven chuckles quietly. It's a dry, rough sound.
That storm's seen better days.
Kael looks down, fidgeting.
Why did you leave?
Why didn't you come back sooner… to us… to me?
Draven is still. His eyes drift to the stars above. Then slowly, he answers.
Because I was afraid. Not of war. Not of death.
He looks Kael in the eyes.
I was afraid I wouldn't be the father you deserved.
Kael's eyes glisten.
But I don't care. I don't want perfect… I want you.
Draven reaches forward, pulling Kael into a rough but warm embrace. For a moment, the weight of the world fades and he whispers.
You're stronger than I ever was, kid… And I'll never leave again. That's a promise… even if I have to crawl through the end of the world.
The two sit there, embraced, under the moonlight. The garden is quiet. But somewhere in the city, the war council is gathering. The peace won't last.
A grand circular chamber lined with banners of noble houses and regional factions. Torches flicker against towering stone walls. At the center, a large round table where commanders, lords, and scholars argue over maps and ancient scrolls. The air is thick with pride and arrogance.
Lord Vexar with a snide tone.
This so-called threat is nothing more than desert superstition. We don't need ghost stories, we need discipline.
General Kaelor sarcastically.
And what? We wait for some lost war hero to come back from the grave and save us?
The room chuckles.
Legends don't win wars. Armies do.
Suddenly.
BOOM.
The heavy council doors burst open.
The torches flicker violently. The room falls dead silent.
Draven enters. Cloak tattered from battle, armor scratched, the hilt of his reforged scythe visible over his shoulder. His presence alone makes the room colder.
Draven calm, commanding.
Legends don't win wars…
He walks slowly into the chamber.
But they do end them.
Every head turns. Vexar's jaw tightens. Kaelor gulps but says nothing.
Draven his voice low, but thunderous.
You've grown fat behind stone walls while good people bled. You mock the storm… until it stands at your gates.
He reaches the table, placing a blood-stained map down.
This is not superstition. This is war. And if you keep bickering like spoiled lords your cities will burn before you lift a sword.
Silence. Then, slowly…
Kaelor stands, bowing his head.
General Kaelor.
My sword is yours, Commander Draven.
One by one, the others follow. The legend has returned and now, he leads the charge.
As the council begins to shift, with commanders lowering their heads in respect, one man does not bow.
Lord Marcan, a younger noble draped in gold-trimmed robes, steps forward with a smirk, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Lord Marcan mocking.
So this is the mighty Draven?
He circles him slightly, inspecting like a merchant eyeing livestock.
You walk in here with blood and ashes on your cloak and expect us to fall at your feet? Times have changed. We don't kneel to ghosts.
The room freezes again. Kael instinctively steps behind Luna. Midnight tenses.
Draven calmly.
I didn't come for your kneel... I came for your spine. But it seems you've already lost it.
Marcan's face tightens. He steps forward, foolishly trying to meet Draven's eyes.
Lord Marcan defiantly.
You think your scars make you powerful? You're a relic of a broken world.
Draven slowly removes his cloak and tosses it over a chair. His eyes burn cold.
Draven deadly quiet.
Relics are worshipped. You'll be forgotten before your corpse hits the ground.
A beat of silence. Then, in one fluid move, Draven draws his reforged scythe just enough to expose the glowing edge. The room dims. The flame hums with restrained rage.
Draven stepping close.
Test me... and they won't remember your name. Only the scream you never finished.
Lord Marcan staggers back, speechless. No one dares to laugh. The council chamber bows in silence not out of fear, but out of reverence.
Draven's voice hardens, no longer calm but cutting, commanding. He steps forward, the scythe humming with a low, ominous growl.
Draven with wrath and sorrow.
I didn't give my blood…
and I sure as hell didn't bury the men who followed me into the fire…
for some arrogant brat like you to stand here and spit on their memory.
He slams the butt of the scythe into the marble floor the room trembles.
Draven turns, now addressing the entire council.
Draven fierce.
You think your gold-lined chairs and polished words make you leaders?
You rule a kingdom forged by sacrifice…
and you dare raise your voice to the man who paid the price?
Lord Marcan shrinks back, lips trembling. The rest of the council stares, silent and humbled. Even the wind outside the great hall seems to hush.
Draven steps forward. With a deep breath, he unstraps the scythe from his back. The legendary weapon chipped, scarred, and still glowing faintly thuds onto the war table. Silence follows. The council flinches, some even rising slightly from their seats.
Draven calm but resolute.
I'm not here to sit on your throne.
I'm here to make sure there's still a kingdom left for my son to inherit.
He steps back, folding his arms. His words hang in the air like a blade at their throats.
Just then, the grand doors swing open again. Luna enters with graceful precision, Midnight beside her silent but imposing. The room adjusts itself instinctively, this trio commands fear, respect… and trust.
Luna firm, focused.
We don't have time for politics.
The enemy's not waiting for us to finish our speeches.
Midnight gruffly.
They're building in the east. Fast. Like they knew we'd stall.
Draven nods, scanning the war map.
We strike first. But not without knowing what we're up against.
I want scouts moving by dusk.
If this new army isn't just muscle but magic we need to know now.
Luna leans forward, pointing at a narrow valley.
We can bottleneck them here. But we'll need the southern legions.
And they don't answer to us anymore.
The room falls silent again. All eyes return to Draven. He lifts his gaze slowly.
Draven low, intense.
Then it's time they remember who I am.
Midnight steps forward, arms crossed, eyes narrowing over the map like a predator eyeing his prey.
Midnight strategic tone.
Tactics are my domain and this isn't just a battle. It's a message.
He grabs a marker and circles the valley Luna pointed at, then draws lines from nearby mountain passes.
We strike here the Eastern Gulch.
Narrow terrain, easy to control, hard to escape. We force them through the pass, then collapse both flanks. Luna leads the vanguard, I command the shadows from the rear. Draven…
He looks up.
…you break their line. Not just with power with fear.
Luna nodding.
We'll need scouts to fake a retreat. Draw their commander in.
Midnight adds.
Exactly. And if this army has magic, then Kael…
He glances toward the boy who's been listening quietly, absorbing every word.
…it might be time you see what you're made of.
Draven looks to Kael, quietly proud.
We'll all bleed in this fight. But we bleed together. That's what makes us stronger than anything coming.
Draven steps closer to Midnight, his voice low, edged with concern as he watches Kael walking away, trying to act brave.
Draven soft, serious.
Are you sure about this? He's just a kid… He shouldn't have to see what we've seen.
Midnight doesn't look up at first. He's quiet, staring at the map, then finally meets Draven's eyes.
Midnight calm, honest.
He's not ready. But neither were we, remember?
Pauses.
You and I were thrown into fire younger than him. The difference is… he won't walk that path alone.
Draven clenches his jaw, torn between protecting his son and preparing him for what's coming.
I wanted better for him.
Midnight calmly.
And he is better because he's yours. Because Luna raised him right. And because you came back.
Draven looks away, the weight of fatherhood and fate sitting heavy on his shoulders.
Draven quietly.
Then let's make sure he has a world worth fighting for…
Kael lingers in the shadow of the hallway, half-hiding behind a stone column. He had come to return a book to his uncle but stopped when he heard his name. He listens silently, heart pounding, catching every word exchanged between Draven and Midnight.
As the voices quiet, Kael steps back, his mind racing.
Kael inner thoughts.
He didn't want this for me… He never wanted me to fight. But… he came back. For us. For me.
He walks slowly down the corridor, passing the portraits of fallen warriors and past leaders. All of them seem to pale in comparison to the legacy now dawning on him.
Kael whispers.
They call him a legend… a monster… a mistake… but he's still just a man. My father.
He clenches his fists.
Kael firmly.
"If I carry his name, I won't run from it. I'll earn it."
He turns and starts walking back toward the war room, determination in his eyes no longer as a child trying to live up to a name…
…but as a son forging his own path beside it.
Draven stands beside the large war table, arms folded, gaze fixed on a map marked with enemy movements. Luna and Midnight are seated, strategizing. The atmosphere is tense but focused.
The doors creak open.
Kael's voice clear, yet carrying the weight of his decision.
Father…
Draven turns, surprised to see his son standing tall. His usual childlike spark now replaced by a deep fire of resolve.
Kael steps forward.
I know you didn't want this for me. You trained me to be strong, not just with a sword, but in heart. But I've seen what's coming… and I can't stay behind.
Draven quiet, unreadable.
You think you're ready to carry the weight of this war?
Kael was a bit nervous, his voice shaking.
No. But I'm ready to carry yours.
A silence hangs in the air. Luna looks toward Draven, eyes softening. Midnight raises a brow, impressed.
Draven softly, almost a whisper.
…You've grown.
He steps toward his son and places a firm hand on his shoulder.
Then stand with me. Not in my shadow but as my equal.
Kael nods, eyes firm.
As your son.
Luna with a proud smile.
Then let the world see who you are, Kael. The legacy... and the future.
Midnight:
About time the battlefield had another Midnight on it.
Draven smirks.
Let them come. This time, we fight as one.
The morning mist blankets the kingdom. The great bell tolls slowly, calling the citizens to the main square. The people gather, whispering, murmurs rippling through the crowd.
The heavy gates of the citadel open.
Draven steps out first, cloaked in his dark armor, his broken yet reforged scythe strapped to his back. His presence alone silences the city. Eyes widen in awe. Elders kneel. Children point.
Whispers rise in the crowd:
Draven has returned…
The legend walks again…
He stood alone against gods…
But then, another figure emerges beside him Kael.
The boy carries a blade too large for his age, yet he holds it firm. His eyes sharp, chin lifted. The crowd stirs, confused at first... then awed.
Once, they looked up and saw a warrior who defied fate.
Now, they see two shadows one forged in fire, the other still taking shape.
The past and the future… standing side by side.
A hush falls. And then, a cheer rises. First one, then dozens, then the entire square erupts.
DRAVEN!
AND THE BOY!
LONG LIVE THE LEGACY!
Draven places a hand on Kael's shoulder, gripping it firmly.
Draven (to Kael, voice low):
"This was never about just power… but what we leave behind."
Kael glances up at him, not needing to speak. He understands.
A wide shot of the square, the sun piercing through the clouds, shining on the two the legend and the heir as the city awakens with hope.
The battlefield looms in the distance tents rise like scars on the land, banners flutter with the cold wind. Draven and Kael stand atop a rocky overlook, watching the preparations below. The sky is heavy with clouds, a storm threatening to break.
Draven doesn't look at Kael at first. His eyes are fixed on the horizon, on the army awaiting them.
Draven quietly, without turning.
If you really want to be like me, kid… then you need to understand something.
Kael, silent, listens closely.
Draven softly but firm.
My steps they always lead to war.
If it's not on the battlefield, it'll be in your mind.
And if not in your mind… it'll be in your heart.
He turns to Kael now, his eyes full of weight and truth.
Life's no fairy tale. It's not just victories and glory.
It's pain. Sacrifice.
It's like a mountain up and down, cold and brutal.
It's like night and day
Some moments will shine so bright you'll forget the shadows…
And others will drag you through darkness you didn't think you'd survive.
Draven rests a hand on Kael's shoulder again, the same way he did in the square.
Draven with a faint smile.
But remember this…
After every night no matter how long or how dark.
There's always another day rising.
Kael nods, clutching the hilt of his blade tighter, his jaw set.
Sound of war horns in the distance.
The campfire crackles softly in the center of a small clearing outside the war camp. Draven, Luna, Midnight, and Kael sit together, surrounded by a momentary calm. The sky is clear, stars scattered like hopes waiting to be reached. The air is heavy, not just with tension but with emotion.
Kael sits close to the fire, sharpening his blade in silence. Midnight leans back against a rock, eyes closed, listening to the wind. Luna stares into the flames, deep in thought. Draven watches them all.
Luna softly.
You were always like this before a fight... Quiet, distant.
I used to think it was fear.
But now I know it was love.
You carry us all with you… every time you go into battle.
Draven gives her a faint, bittersweet smile.
I've seen what's waiting beyond that battlefield.
It's not the enemy that scares me.
It's the thought of never seeing you again.
He looks to Kael, eyes full of something the boy hadn't seen before vulnerability.
I never wanted this life for you, Kael.
But I see it in your eyes...
You've inherited my fire.
And I know that fire burns with purpose.
Kael quiet but steady.
I don't want to be you, father...
I want to be someone you can be proud of.
Draven puts a hand on Kael's shoulder again stronger this time, filled with the weight of years lost and years earned.
You already are, son.
The firelight flickers in Luna's green eyes. She reaches over and takes Draven's hand. Midnight gives a short nod, rising to his feet.
Midnight with a smirk.
Time to give them hell. Just like old times.
Draven rises, his cloak flowing behind him, silhouetted by the fire.
Draven to all of them.
No matter what happens tomorrow
You are my family.
And I'll tear the heavens apart before I let them take that from me.
Thunder crashes. War drums echo. Soldiers rush to formation. The enemy's army stretches across the hills like a wave of death.
The battle begins.
Battlefield – Moments Before the First Clash
The wind howls over the open plains. The enemy army, an endless tide of soldiers and beasts waits like a storm ready to break. Their war cries echo across the field.
The allied army stands behind Draven. Nervous. Breathless. Watching.
Kael not understanding.
Where is he going…?
Luna whispers.
He's doing what he always does…
Walking into the darkness
So we don't have to.
Midnight gritting his teeth.
And damn it… he always makes it look like he's not coming back.
Draven walks alone. Each step is heavy, deliberate. The ground itself starts to tremble.
Suddenly
Fwooom!
A pulse of power erupts from his body. A brilliant, blinding blue fire ignites around him, flowing like a living storm. His cloak burns away into embers. His new armor glows with intricate symbols. His scythe reborn appears in his hand with a flash of fire and steel.
The very air bends. The enemy falters.
Draven halts, standing tall, blue fire rising to the sky.
Draven voice low, deep, echoing.
Through heaven and earth…
His eyes glow with ancient fury.
…I alone am the honored one.
A single step forward. The earth shatters beneath his foot. In the blink of an eye, he vanishes.
He reappears in the center of the enemy army like a falling star.
BOOM.
A shockwave tears through their frontlines. The battle erupts into chaos.
Kael, stunned. Soldiers around him cheering in awe.
Kael breathless.
…Father…
Luna eyes wet.
That's not just a warrior.
That's a storm with a purpose.
Midnight smirking.
Let's move.
The legend lit the fire,
Time for the world to remember why they feared the dark.
Draven moves like a phantom, a blur of slashes and burning blue fire. Enemy after enemy falls, disintegrating under the weight of his awakened fury. His new scythe dances with lethal elegance, but his strikes are growing... harsher. Less precise. More rage than purpose.
The fire that protects… can also consume.
Draven's face. His glowing eyes flicker between the man and the monster. His breath ragged. His knuckles white on the scythe's grip. Visions begin to haunt him mid-battle: shadows of the past, betrayal, pain, blood… the cries of men he couldn't save.
Draven low, trembling.
Not now… not again…
The blue flame flares violently briefly turning violet. A scream escapes his throat, not of pain, but something deeper… broken.
Luna, sensing it from afar.
…He's slipping…
Midnight worried.
If he loses himself again… we lose the war.
Draven roars. He cleaves through ten warriors in a single swing, the ground erupting beneath him. The enemy begins to retreat in fear but now… even his own soldiers hesitate.
Soldier terrified.
Is that… is that him or the monster…?!
Kael desperate, watching
Father—stop! Please!
But Draven doesn't hear him. The fire rages louder. His silhouette is no longer just human it's like a giant of flame, with wings of shadow stretching behind him. A final charge of enemy generals begins. One massive beast roars as it lunges toward him.
Draven meets it head-on. His scythe glows pure blue he spins, roars, and brings the blade down.
BOOOOOOM.
The battlefield goes white.
Silence. Ash falls like snow.
In the center… Draven kneels. Breathing heavily. His armor cracked. His hands bloodied. The flame is almost gone but his eyes… they're hollow. Lost.
Luna running to him.
Draven! Draven!
She falls to her knees beside him.
He lifts his head, confused. His lips tremble.
Draven weakly.
…Luna? …Did I… did I do this…?
Kael arriving
You saved everyone… but you almost lost yourself.
Draven stands tall amidst the ruins, his body motionless but the fire within him blazes stronger than ever. His once-glowing blue eyes are now pure white, devoid of reason, of soul. The silence is heavy… too heavy.
Midnight stepping forward slowly, voice hollow.
…His eyes…
He clenches his fists.
…Those eyes are not Draven's anymore.
Luna grasping Kael's shoulders protectively.
No… no, he's still in there! He's just… fighting it!
Kael shaking.
Dad…?
Draven slowly turns toward them. No recognition. No warmth. Only raw, uncontrollable power.
Midnight quiet, mournful.
This man is… already dead.
Draven steps forward. The ground beneath his feet blackens. Flames flicker like shadows crawling from his skin. A gust of wind reveals the horror on his face twisted by power, hollowed by agony.
Midnight pulling out his blade.
…Draven… I'm sorry…
Luna gasps. Kael's eyes widen in horror.
Midnight his voice trembling.
…But I have to kill you now…
Before you hurt your family.
He steps forward, placing himself between Draven and the others. The clash is inevitable. A brotherhood is about to be tested in the cruelest way.
Midnight stands firm, sword drawn, eyes locked with Draven's soulless, glowing white gaze. The blue flames around Draven roar louder, distorting his figure into something almost monstrous otherworldly.
Draven voice deep, guttural, distorted.
"I… haven't… lost… YEEEEEEEETTTTT!!!"
A thunderous shockwave erupts from his body, knocking debris and soldiers alike to the ground. He charges not toward the enemy, but straight toward Luna and Kael.
Kael terrified.
Dad?!
Luna screaming.
DRAVEN, STOP!!
Just as the monster inside him prepares to strike Midnight moves. In a single blur, he's there between Draven and the family. And with a heavy heart, he plunges his blade through Draven's chest.
Midnight voice breaking.
I'm sorry, brother… I couldn't let you become their nightmare.
Draven's body jerks, the fire around him faltering. For a brief moment just one his eyes return to normal. Soft. Human.
Draven weakly, almost whispering.
...Midnight… Thank you…
His body collapses into Midnight's arms. The battlefield falls still. The silence is deafening.
Midnight tears falling, kneeling in the bloodied soil.
I told you… I'd follow you until the end. I just never thought I'd be the one… to end it.
Kael clutches his mother, silent tears rolling down his face. Luna stares, frozen, her heart shattered.
The blue flames flicker one last time and go out.
Midnight stands frozen, blade trembling in his hand, his eyes locked on Draven's body kneeling, lifeless.
Luna whispering, voice breaking.
Draven…
Kael stares in stunned silence, clutching Luna's hand. The blue fire that once engulfed Draven begins to fade, replaced by a soft, ethereal glow.
Slowly, Draven's body begins to crumble lightly, gently turning into glowing ashes. They rise into the air, carried by the wind.
The ashes swirl around his friends and family, illuminating their faces with a soft blue hue.
Midnight is barely audible.
Rest now… brother.
Kael softly
Father…
A gust of wind blows stronger, lifting the last of Draven's remains into the sky, toward the breaking dawn.
Draven's voice, fading like an echo.
We don't make this world better for us… but for those who come after. For the ones we love, and for the ones we'll never meet. Remember that… and carry the flame.
As the gates of the kingdom creak open, Midnight, Luna, and the weary soldiers enter heads low, armor scorched, silence heavy like a funeral march. Citizens line the streets with hopeful eyes, expecting victory and the return of their legend. But no cheers rise. No banners wave. Only whispers ripple through the crowd.
A child tugs at his mother's sleeve.
Where's the man with the blue fire, mama?
She can't answer.
Midnight walks ahead, expression unreadable, until he finally halts at the city square. He faces the people, voice rough and low.
The war is over…
He pauses.
But not all of us came back.
The square falls into a stunned silence.
Midnight's voice hangs in the air, and the silence swells.
Then, small footsteps echo on the stone. Kael steps forward, his young face streaked with dried tears and dirt. He clutches the broken hilt of Draven's old scythe the last piece that remained.
Kael holding back his tears.
He gave everything… not for glory. Not for power. But for us.
The boy's voice shakes, but he doesn't look away.
You all called him a monster, a weapon, a curse. But to me… he was just my father.
A hush. And then one by one people bow their heads. Soldiers lower their swords in tribute. An old man places a hand on his chest, tears brimming in his eyes.
As the sun breaks through the gray clouds, a gentle breeze carries past them… and for a moment, it feels like the wind itself speaks warm and familiar.
Luna steps beside Kael and kneels, placing a hand over his heart.
He's still here… in us. In you.
Later that week, a towering statue is raised at the heart of the city not of Draven in war, but of him standing tall with his cloak flowing, one hand resting on a child's shoulder. A symbol. A promise.
Etched beneath it in stone.
"We don't make this world better for ourselves... we do it for those who come after." — Draven Midnight
As the sun sets behind the mountains, casting an orange-golden glow across the city, something stirs in the sky.
Wings wide, graceful, burning with ethereal blue flame descend slowly from the heavens. A majestic phoenix, its feathers shimmering like sapphire fire, glides silently through the air and lands gently on Draven's statue.
The people freeze in awe, watching the mythical creature perch on the statue's shoulder, right where Draven's scythe once rested.
It lets out a soft, echoing cry, a sound not of mourning, but of rebirth.
Its eyes glow... and then glance toward Kael in the crowd.
A breeze brushes past them again, gentle and warm, and a single whisper carries with it too faint to trace, too familiar to forget:
This is not the end... only the beginning.
The city is quiet. The sky is now lit by stars. Midnight stands alone at the base of Draven's statue, the phoenix still perched above. Kael sleeps in Luna's arms nearby. The fire has calmed but the soul burns on.
Midnight soft, steady voice.
To those still standing... to those who have lost, and yet walk on...
Let this be a lesson carved in more than stone and fire.
The weight of the world doesn't fall on the strongest shoulders...
It falls on the willing. The broken. The brave enough to rise again.
Draven wasn't a god. He bled like us. He hurt like us. He feared like us...
But he chose to become something greater. Not for himself. But for all of us.
So if you're reading this, or hearing these words, and feel too small to matter
Remember: even a shattered blade can protect. Even a lost soul can guide.
The world doesn't need perfect heroes... it needs hearts that refuse to stop beating.
Stand tall. The darkness isn't the end.
It's just the part where you begin to shine."
A gust of wind passes. Midnight looks up to the stars. The phoenix lets out one last soft cry. Hope lingers.