The sun was hidden behind the mist, as if even daylight wanted nothing to do with this cursed place.
Waves crashed against the jagged shore, each strike echoing like a war drum. The scenery had a kind of cold beauty to it, but then the water foamed red, streaked with blood. The tranquility broke further, not by the sea, but by curses.
"This motherfucker is so fucking stubborn!" a young voice snarled. A boy darted sideways, barely clearing the slice of a wing aimed to take his head off. His feet hit wet stone with a slap, and his voice tore through the mist, "FUUUUUCK!"
"Careful, Alex, or you'll lose another tooth," another youth called, his tone dry, mocking. His figure blurred beneath the harpy's sweeping tail. He rose in a tight arc, claws flashing red, carving into the scaled limb. A gash bloomed instantly, blood spraying like a broken fountain.
These two weren't tourists who wandered into hell. They were Valen and Alex, and this was their graduation exam. The rules were simple, kill a sea harpy. With their bare hands. And do it under a strict time limit.
Seven years had passed since Valen arrived at the pit. Seven years of violence, hunger, and training brutal enough to grind boys into corpses, or into monsters sharp enough to thrive.
He was no longer a child. The voice that once cracked when he shouted now rasped with steel edges. His hair, once cropped and messy, had grown long, black strands wild and damp with seawater, clinging to his cheeks. His hands were hard with calluses, palms scarred with faint lines like a map.
[Image]
Alex had changed too. His skin got blacker... yeah... and his eyes were also blacker now, pupils like ink poured into white glass. His hair matched, as if the darkness had seeped outward to claim him. His grin still showed sharp white teeth, but behind it, there was a stillness, an eerie calm. He no longer moved like a boy hopped up on caffeine.
[Image]
Around the battlefield, eight figures watched from the cliffs above, the Ashen Circle. Their gazes were sharp.
"They're spectacular."
"Training worked."
A low hum of agreement.
The harpy shrieked, its cry splitting the mist, wings lashing with hurricane force. But Valen and Alex didn't falter. They wove between slashes, carved wounds deeper, drew blood faster. And finally, with a strike that rang like a final bell, the beast fell.
Its corpse thrashed once against the rocks, then lay still.
Alex and Valen stood over it, panting. They turned, walked back through the mist, and bowed before the Circle.
"Nicely done," Julian had never felt so proud. "Come. It's time for your oaths."
As they walked, Alex muttered under his breath, "Can't believe we're the only ones this generation…"
His words carried a strange loneliness. The Eidolons had once been countless. Now? Just 10 in the whole world.
Dax, was with them, his hands clasped behind his back. "You two have done… astonishingly. I am proud of you both... we all are." His voice, usually high, wavered just slightly.
Valen blinked and saw a smile. Dax was smiling at them.
Not the cruel grin of a mentor who broke bones to build strength, but something softer. Nostalgia. Affection. For a moment, Valen's chest tightened. This demon, this butcher who had beaten strength into them, was proud.
Alex caught his eye and smirked. They fist-bumped, knuckles sharp with unspoken brotherhood.
Then they arrived at the hall, it was beautiful and a little too grand. It was deep into a mountain.
It was a cathedral carved into the body of a god. The boys walked across the open palms of a colossal statue, stone fingers spread wide as though cradling them toward judgment. Mist coiled around the edges, spilling endlessly into blackness.
At the far end, the altar waited. A massive circular chamber ringed with six towering statues of women, mothers of the first six Eidolon families. Their stone eyes stared downward, cold and eternal.
[Image]
Four Circle members stood beneath them, shadows at the feet of giants.
Valen's gaze lingered. Each statue was different, one held a blade, another a book, another a babe. All guardians, all mothers.
Julian's voice broke the hush. "Kneel."
Which they did.
The ground trembled as all of them shifted into their Eidolon forms, power crackling in the air like a brewing storm.
Julian stepped forward, spear gleaming red. His eyes burned into Valen's as he pressed the weapon to his son's foot, the blade biting just enough to draw blood.
"VALEN KAEL VEYNAR DRAEMONT! Do you swear by this honor to protect the Door with your life?"
[Valen's Eidolon form image]
Valen's voice rang out. "I SWEAR!"
Julian turned to Alex. "ALEX VON RUAN DRAIO! Do you swear by this honor to protect the Door with your life?"
[Alex's Eidolon form image]
"YES! I SWEAR!"
The Circle members moved as one, clawing their palms, flicking droplets of blood that splattered onto the kneeling boys. A baptism in crimson.
Alex rose and joined the others, welcomed with pats on his back. But Julian wasn't done. His gaze returned to Valen.
"VALEN KAEL VEYNAR DRAEMONT. As my son, you hold the responsibility to lead the next generation of the Ashen Circle. Do you accept?"
"YES!" Valen roared, chest burning.
Julian lifted his spear, turned to the Circle. "Members of the Ashen Council! Do you accept Valen Kael Veynar Draemont as the one to lead you in the future?"
Their reply thundered as one, "YES!"
Pride cracked Julian's mask. A smile, wide and fierce, stretched across his face.
He extended the red spear. "I know you've wanted this for a long time. Now… it's finally yours."
Valen's hands shook as he took it. The metal thrummed, alive in his grip. He held it as though afraid a wrong breath would mar its surface.
Cheers shook the hall as the ceremony closed. But Valen wasn't finished.
"Wait," he said, stepping forward. "There's one more oath."
Alex stepped to his side. They shared a grin sharp enough to cut stone.
The members murmured. "hm?"
"Yeah," Valen said. "Between me and Alex."
They dragged the blades across their palms, skin splitting open as Blood welled instantly, thick and hot, dripping down their wrists.
Then they slammed their hands together.
CLAP!
The impact cracked like a gunshot, blood spraying from between their fingers. The sound echoed through the mountain, sharp enough to rattle the stone.
"I, Valen Kael Veynar Draemont-"
"I, Alex Von Ruan Draio-"
"-swear to take the other as my blood brother! To protect him, to support him, to lay down my life if need be!"
They grinned, teeth bared, and pulled each other into a crushing hug.
The Circle watched. Hardened warriors, demons, killers, and still they felt pride burn in their chests.
This was what brotherhood looked like.
*
Two months later,
Kansas.
Normalcy hit like a sledgehammer. The garage smelled of oil and rust, converted into a half-assed music studio.
Tools were shoved aside to make room for amps and wires. Posters were taped haphazardly to cracked walls, some curling at the edges. A drumset took up half the floor, guitar cases leaned against a workbench that still smelled faintly of gasoline.
Valen adjusted the strap of his guitar, leaning into the mic stand. Alex twirled a drumstick between his fingers, smirking from behind the set.
Seven years of isolation had left them technologically prehistoric. Here, in 2021, the world spun on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. The internet was a new battlefield.
Valen adapted instantly, he had experienced it in his last life afterall, and having access to the internet was something he really craved.
And he wanted to be a musician, and the timing was perfect. Borrowing his mother's studio, Valen had already released two tracks.
And Alex, somehow, was a natural at cameras, edits, and had the greatest talent with the drumset.
He cut reels, shot clips of them running through fields with music blasting, and of their shadows playing in abandoned buildings. Somehow, millions of views followed. Overnight.
"Bro," Alex said, twirling the sticks again, "the comments are wild. People actually like it and want to support us, yo!"
Valen grinned. "Guess we better not disappoint them then."
"I Think I Like When It Rains." "As It Was." Were the two tracks and they spread like wildfire.
Now, in their garage-studio, they were working on something new. Not a love song anymore. Something truer. A brotherhood anthem.
Valen tuned his guitar, sliding the pick against the strings until the notes growled. Alex sat behind the drumset, sticks twirling like knives.
They locked eyes smirking.
"1."
"2."
"3!"
---
GIMME THE STONEEESSS!