The city park glowed that night, filled with lanterns, laughter, and the warmth of families celebrating the Festival of Light. Children ran with sparklers, merchants sold sweets on every corner, and the air carried the scent of roasted food. Among the crowd was a boy—Rayyan—clutching his father's hand tightly. His mother walked by his side, smiling gently as she placed a flower crown on his head.
For Rayyan, it was the happiest night he could remember. His parents laughed together, promising they would watch the fireworks before heading home. The boy's eyes sparkled as if he had captured the stars themselves.
But joy is fragile.
Without warning, the ground trembled. A chilling roar cut through the music of the festival. The lights flickered, then shattered into sparks as shadows poured into the park. They were monsters—hideous, twisted creatures with eyes burning like coals. Screams replaced laughter, and chaos erupted.
Rayyan froze, his small body trembling as the world around him collapsed into blood and horror.
His father scooped him up, yelling at his mother to run. But there was no escape. The monsters struck mercilessly, tearing into helpless civilians. In the chaos, Rayyan's parents shielded him with everything they had—not weapons, not power, just their bodies, their will, their love.
"Stay alive, Rayyan!" his father shouted, even as claws ripped through the air. His mother pressed her son to her chest, whispering through tears, "Don't be afraid… don't let go of life."
But fate was cruel. With a single sweep of a monster's blade-like arm, the warmth of his parents vanished. Blood splattered across Rayyan's face as his world shattered in front of him.
He didn't scream. He couldn't. His voice was stolen, just like the smiles of the two people he loved most. His small hands reached out, but all he touched was the fading warmth of lifeless skin.
The boy stood paralyzed, surrounded by death and flames. The monsters turned toward him, ready to snuff out what little remained.
And then—like lightning splitting the darkness—Arvon appeared.
His blade moved faster than Rayyan's eyes could follow, cutting through the monsters with merciless precision. The ground quaked under his aura, his presence overwhelming like a storm. To the terrified boy, Arvon was not human, but something greater—something untouchable.
In moments, the monsters lay dead around them. The park, once a place of joy, was nothing but ruin.
Arvon stood over the corpses, his eyes narrowing at the lone survivor—the boy clutching his parents' blood-stained hands.
The child did not cry. He only stared, hollow and broken, his tiny frame trembling under the weight of grief.
For the first time in many years, Arvon hesitated. He saw himself in the boy. And in that silence, something unspoken was forged.
Rayyan's parents were gone. His smile was gone.
But his story had just begun.