The ocean was endless, black as ink under the storm-torn sky. Waves slammed against the wooden boat as if the sea itself wanted to drown the intruders. Lightning flashed, illuminating a jagged silhouette ahead—an island wreathed in fire and smoke.
"Land…" whispered Aric, gripping the railing with white knuckles. His eyes widened as the volcanic glow lit the sky. "Demon Island."
For weeks, maps and rumors had led them here—a cursed island said to be the first of ten, each ruled by an ancient demon. The scroll they carried spoke of "riddles that guard the gates of power," puzzles older than kings, and traps that swallowed entire armies. Yet it promised a secret: defeat the demons, solve their riddles, and the curse of the seas shall be lifted.
The boat scraped against black sand. Sulfur filled the air. The ground trembled with distant eruptions, and in the smoke above the volcano, a monstrous figure seemed to flicker into form—a phantom of fire with burning eyes.
"Welcome…" a voice hissed, carried on the wind. No lips, no body—only a whisper inside their skulls.
The adventurers froze. Something had already noticed them.
At the edge of the shore stood the first puzzle: a half-collapsed stone gate covered in strange symbols. Ten circles, carved into the arch, glowed faintly with red fire. One circle pulsed brighter than the rest.
Aric stepped closer, brushing sand from the carvings. "It's a riddle," he murmured.The words on the stone burned into existence:
"I am the beginning of ash, the end of flame. Without me, fire cannot die, and life cannot rise. Speak my name, and the path shall open."
Behind them, the tide hissed louder. From the black waters, skeletons of sailors pulled themselves out, eyes glowing like embers. The demon's soldiers had awoken.
"Answer it," cried Liora, drawing her blade. "Or we die here!"
The first riddle of Demon Island had begun.