It began as a trembling underfoot, a subtle quiver that the shepherds on the hilltops first mistook for a passing storm. But the tremor did not fade. It grew into a shudder that cracked the stones and sent flocks shrieking into the sky. By dusk, the earth's convulsions had become a roar so deafening that even the oldest mountains seemed to flinch.
From hidden chasms, the Abyss Emperors emerged. Where Erebus strode, the air dimmed, colors leaching into gray. At his side glided Umbrael, a drifting phantom of blackened silk and a halo of coiling voidlight. Beside her lumbered Cthon, whose many-limbed bulk was a living fortress of bone and chitin. They moved with the certainty of a tide, inexorable and without pity.
In the southern plains, King Leonardo and his retinue stood atop Gaia's half-built ramparts, watching the horizon blacken. A single cry—part horror, part awe—rose from the workers. Leonardo's heart clenched as he beheld it: a wall of darkness swallowing the land mile by mile. Fires guttered into smoke. Forests withered to ash as the Abyss Emperors passed.
"Signal the alarm," he commanded, voice steady despite the cold gnawing at his spine. "Every outpost, every village—warn them."
A captain ran to the signal tower. Moments later, a column of blue flame erupted skyward, its crackling corona proclaiming one message across the kingdom: The Abyss is here.
On the plain below, Orion appeared among the vanguard. He walked ahead of Erebus, his obsidian armor gleaming in the last rays of the dying sun. Behind him came shapes twisted beyond comprehension—aberrations with too many limbs, too many mouths, crawling and writhing across the grasslands.
Leonardo gripped the crenellation so hard the stone bit into his palm. "So it begins," he murmured.
Lady Seraphine approached, her white cloak snapping in the rising gale. "My king," she said quietly, "the people look to you."
He turned, meeting her gaze. Around them, the first screams drifted up from the farms nearest the front. He could almost taste the despair, thick as stormclouds. Yet he could not allow it to take root.
"Then let them see that I do not fear the dark," Leonardo said. He drew his sword, its steel catching the failing light like a beacon. "Let them see Gaia will stand."
And as the Abyss Emperors advanced, blotting out the horizon, the horns of Gaia's defenders began to call—a fierce, defiant chorus that rose to meet the silence of annihilation.
Shall I continue to Chapter 4: The First War?