The darkness swallowed everything.
Not even the faintest trace of shape or light remained—only endless, suffocating black.
From within it, footsteps echoed. Slow. Heavy. Each one seemed to sink deeper into the void itself.
A figure emerged, though unseen. The demon who had slain the boy's father. His name whispered against the silence—Varzath.
He moved until the shadows thickened so completely that not even his own form could be perceived. Then, at last, he stopped.
With a sharp exhale, Varzath dropped to his knees. His head bowed low, claws digging into the unseen ground.
"My lord," his voice rasped, trembling with both reverence and fear, you summoned me.
For a moment, there was nothing. Only silence so deep it pressed against the skull.
Then—it came.
A voice, vast and ancient, curling through the void like chains of iron.
"Do you understand… what you have done?"
The sound alone was enough to crush him. His body trembled violently, bones straining, flesh threatening to split apart under the sheer weight of it.
"Yes… my lord," Varzath gasped, blood seeping from the corner of his lips.
"Then explain," the voice commanded "Explain why you acted without my will."
Varzath swallowed hard, desperation leaking into every word. "We… we have another plan. That man—he held no knowledge of what we sought. Killing him changes nothing.
The voice fell silent again. Then, with a low rumble, it asked:
"Do you even know… who he was?"
Varzath's throat tightened. His voice faltered. "N-no, my lord."
The darkness shifted.
And then—eyes opened.
They bloomed in the void like twin galaxies. Spirals of stars, endless and beautiful, yet utterly merciless. Their gaze fixed upon him, piercing straight through the marrow of his bones.
Varzath's scream was choked. His back split open with a sickening tear, blood cascading down like a fountain. His chest convulsed, his claws clutching at his own mouth to hold in the blood that poured from it.
The voice, calm and cruel, spoke again:
He was the last of his line. The final heir… carrying the blood of this land's king.
Varzath could only kneel, drowning in his own pain, unable to speak.
And your second plan, the Lord's voice darkened, rising like a storm, to capture his family—failed as well.
The galaxies narrowed, burning brighter, suffocating.
So tell me, Varzath… the voice lingered, heavy with unspoken doom.
"What should I do with you now?…"
Varzath's body trembled, blood still dripping from his mouth as he forced his words out. "M-my lord… that… that was not my plan…"
The vast voice shifted, heavy with disdain. I have forgiven your failures countless times. But now— The galaxies flared, light burning like molten suns. "Now you dare to lie before me?
Varzath's claws scraped against the unseen floor, his voice breaking. No! Never! My lord… listen… if we had obtained him, it would have brought us nothing. He carried no true path to power. I—I have a better plan. All I ask is a little more time.
A silence fell, crushing, eternal. Then the ancient voice rumbled, colder than death itself. Why should I listen to you again?
Varzath's chest heaved. His voice turned desperate, pleading. Please… just this once. If I fail again—then do whatever you see fit. I will not resist. But grant me this chance. This last chance.
For a moment, nothing stirred.
Then the voice shifted, lower, sharper, curling into something cruel. "I need not raise a hand against you. They… will devour you instead."
The void trembled.
Above, more eyes split open—thousands upon thousands—until the darkness itself seemed alive. They glowed like blood-red suns, endless and insatiable, each one staring hungrily at Varzath.
Eyes of other demons. Eyes of predators that had no number.
They surrounded him from every side—above and below, behind and before. Small, needle-thin eyes blinked within the cracks of the void, uncountable. They swarmed like locusts, like a sea of watching hunger, pressing in on him until the very air turned sharp and cold.
Varzath's body shook violently, his throat clamping shut, but he forced his head down deeper. "I… understand. I will not fail you again, my lord."
His voice was little more than a rasp as he dragged his broken body across the invisible ground, leaving streaks of blood behind him. Step by step, claw by claw, he pulled himself away from the storm of eyes.
And the void swallowed him whole.
****
A sharp gasp escaped her lips.
Sumit's mother jolted upright, her chest rising and falling as her eyes darted wildly around. Shadows clung to the corners of the unfamiliar room. Her voice, fragile and trembling, broke the silence.
Wh-where am I? What is this place? And… Sumit? Sumit!
Her cry carried raw panic, echoing against the quiet walls.
She tried to rise from the bed, but her body betrayed her. Her knees buckled, and she stumbled forward—just as two figures rushed into the room.
"Mother!" Sumit's voice was the first to reach her. His small hands tried to steady her, but it was Ryvash who caught her firmly, helping both mother and son back onto the bed.
Her trembling fingers brushed against her son's face. Relief poured into her eyes as she whispered, My child… you're safe. That's all that matters… .
Ryvash exhaled, his voice carrying a mixture of exhaustion and relief. At last… you've woken.
She turned to him, confusion still clouding her face. What… what happened to me?
Ryvash's expression darkened. He lowered his gaze. You suffered a terrible shock. After that… you fell into a coma. The doctors said there was no guarantee you would ever wake again.
His voice cracked, trembling as tears welled in his eyes. We had almost lost all hope.
Hush now, Ryvash. She reached out weakly, her hand resting on his arm. Don't cry. I'm awake now. Everything will be fine.
After a pause, she turned her eyes to him and asked softly, How long… how long have I been in this coma?
Ryvash exhaled shakily, his voice low. It's been one week.
"A week…" she whispered, then let out a shaky breath. At least it wasn't longer. But—tell me… why does this place feel so familiar? Where are we?
Ryvash gave a faint smile, then slowly pushed himself to his feet.
He walked to the window, fingers brushing the curtain aside. Warm light spilled into the room as he gazed out, eyes distant with memories.
"We're home," he said softly. His voice carried both relief and weight.
Our hometown… the place where everything began.
Her expression froze, fear quickly replacing the relief in her eyes.
Home…? she whispered, her voice shaking. Then, almost afraid of the answer, she turned to her brother.
Does Father know about us? Is he angry? Will he… kill us?
Ryvash squeezed her trembling hands, his voice steady but gentle.
No. Don't be afraid. I've taken care of it.
She blinked, searching his face, then whispered sharply, almost demanding:
"How? Tell me everything."
Ryvash's voice grew heavy as the memory returned.
That night, when we came here, we carefully hid you in a secret room of our house—because we knew the soldiers would come. And they did. They searched every corner, their torches burning like judgment. When they found nothing, they dragged Emily, Sumit, and me to the palace instead.
Ryvash's voice grew heavier, tinged with disbelief as he recalled the scene.
When they dragged us toward the palace, I noticed… everything had changed. The infrastructure, the halls, even the air felt different. But the most astonishing thing—I realized that before, only the higher classes, the chosen few, could awaken here. Yet now… everyone I saw was awakened. Every single one. Even the soldiers who came to take us—they all possessed special abilities.
He drew a slow breath, his eyes distant.
then, they dragged us into the palace hall… I saw him. My father. Your grandfather, he whispered, leaning toward Sumit, who tugged lightly at his cloak, curious eyes fixed on the imposing figure ahead.
Ryvash nodded faintly, but inside, both he and Emily trembled. They knew his nature—the weight of his anger, the sharpness of his judgment. For a moment, Ryvash feared this reunion might be their last.
But instead of fury, the King's face softened. His stern expression broke, and with tears glimmering in his eyes, he stepped forward.
Finally… you've returned. We all missed you, my child. Where were you all this time? And… who is this boy with you?
Ryvash clenched Emily's hand, then drew a deep breath. Father, we didn't leave of our own will. We were forced to.
The King frowned, confusion hardening his features. Forced? What nonsense is this? Why would I ever drive you away?
"I came to you once," Ryvash pressed on, his tone urgent. I tried to tell you everything—but you were too busy in those days, drowning in council meetings. So I wrote you a letter, hoping you would read it when you had the time. But that very night, we were attacked. Soldiers stormed in. If we had fought back, blood would have drowned the palace halls… so instead, we fled.
He paused, then added softly, weaving the lie that would shield them:
Outside, we built a new life. And in time… we had a son. His name is Sumit.
The King's eyes narrowed. "Attacked? A letter?" He shook his head sharply. I gave no such order. And no such letter ever reached me.
Both Ryvash and Emily froze, their hearts lurching. If not him… then who?
But the King dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. Enough. What's past is past. You've returned—and that is what matters.His expression softened again. We will hold a grand celebration in your honor. And your marriage, Ryvash, Emily… it will be redone, properly this time.
Emily's cheeks flushed scarlet, lowering her gaze, while the King turned to Sumit. With unexpected warmth, he rested a heavy hand on the boy's head.
And you, child—you are my grandson. Whatever you need, you may come to me. Life here will not be easy, but I know you are strong enough to endure.
Sumit nodded quietly. "Hmm."
Good. And remember—listen to your parents as well.
Again, Sumit gave a small, obedient nod.
For a moment, silence lingered.
But then, unable to hold back the ache in his chest, Ryvash let the name of his sister slip past his lips in a whisper.
The King's face instantly darkened, his voice turning to thunder.
This is the first and last time I will forgive you. If you ever utter that name again… you will find no mercy from me.
The words struck like a blade. Silence fell heavy, broken only when the King turned away and ordered them to leave his hall.
Her heart ached—relief that her son was safe, sorrow that her father's anger still burned.
Before she could speak, the door burst open.
"Finally!" a cheerful voice rang. Emily rushed in, her eyes shining with tears of joy. She threw her arms around her. "You're awake!"
The room warmed instantly, the heavy air lifting as laughter and sobs mingled. Emily pulled back with a grin, holding up a basket. Come on. I brought food from outside. Let's eat together—like a family again.
For the first time in what felt like years, hope flickered inside the walls of that home.