The rain came down in sheets, sharp and cold, washing crimson into the gutters. Erys Vale staggered through the deserted street, one hand pressed against her abdomen where the blade had gone in. Her palm was slick with blood.
Every step was heavier than the last. Her lungs burned, her body screamed, but worse than the pain was the hollow ache in her chest.
She had trusted them. She had given everything to them.
And in return betrayal.
"You... monsters," she rasped, voice hoarse and barely audible over the storm. She remembered the look on their faces, the smirks, the laughter. Those she had called family, those she had sacrificed for, had turned on her without hesitation.
Her vision blurred. She staggered sideways, colliding with a wall, her breath fogging in the cold night. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.
Her knees gave way, and she crumpled into the mud of a narrow alley, her body too broken to rise again.
Is this how it ends? she thought bitterly, staring at the indifferent sky above. Betrayed, forgotten, thrown aside like trash?
Her mind flickered back to a memory, soft and distant her mother's warm hand stroking her hair when she was a child. "Erys, never bow to fate. Even in ashes, a flame can be reborn."
Tears mingled with rain. Her lips trembled into a faint, defiant smile.
"If there's... a next life..." Her voice cracked, fragile but fierce. "I refuse to be powerless... I will burn the heavens themselves if I must."
Her breath shuddered, then faded into silence. The rain continued to fall, but her heart no longer beat.
Darkness.
A void without form, without end.
______
The world of Elarion was divided into five realms. The Solara Dominion, scorched beneath eternal suns; the Noctis Empire, cloaked in shadow and forbidden arts; the Zephyrian Peaks, mountains adrift in storm and sky; the Oblivion Wastes, barren and cruel.
And then there was the Aetheris Vale, lush, ancient, alive with spirit beasts and forgotten bloodlines. It was here, in this kingdom of rivers and endless green, that their story began.
The Aetheris Vale was divided into six kingdoms. The Sylvaren Court, where healers walked among towering world-trees. The mist-veiled Myrrshade Dominion, keeper of moonlit secrets. The fortress of Thalorien Keep, home to oathbound warriors. The Viridale Expanse, endless plains alive with druids and living essence. The hidden Caelithen Enclave, crystalline and bound to ancient spirits.
And at the heart of it flowed the Elandor Reach a land of rivers and beast tamers, where spirit guardians roamed beside mankind. It was here their story began.
Aldric Duskbane's granddaughter known as the overly pampered Young Miss of the Duskbane Palace. She was a girl who carried herself small, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting away whenever someone met her gaze. Her voice was soft, hesitant, as if afraid to take up space. She fidgeted with her hands when nervous, a fragile presence that seemed ready to fade into the background at any moment.
Alderic Duskbane and the founding Emperor of the Kingdom went way back. They had a great relationship and they even swore an oath to the heavens to be sworn brothers.
When the Kingdom of Elandor Reach was formed, the founding Emperor personally granted a grand title, 'Duskbane palace' which rendered him power almost akin to the royalty.
In the whole kingdom, it is one of the most revered place, even the current Emperor has to be courteous to them. Duskbane has two sons, however his extreme doting of his granddaughter erysimum has reached a pinnacle.
When she took a liking to the third Prince, duskbane coerced the Emperor to have the third Prince and his granddaughter betrothed.
However, this timid woman was now lying on some cold ground in such a sorry state, if not for erys soul, she would just be a dead body dumped in the wilderness.
Agony lanced through erys body, so sharp and raw it felt as if her very bones were on fire. Her eyes flew open, and the world around her was not the alley where she died.
"Still alive." Erys muttered. Her body lay sprawled in dirt. Her limbs ached, her skin was torn and bruised, her ribs protested every breath. Her abdomen throbbed as though crushed, though no knife pierced her now.
The sky above her was alien, scattered with unfamiliar stars. The air was thick with a scent of earth and wild grass, damp and heavy as if she had fallen into another existence.
"What...?" she gasped, her voice weak and broken. She tried to rise, but her arms trembled, unable to bear even her own weight.
She survived however she was still hovering near death's door.
She felt her energy slowly seeping away as she shuddered from the cold which was hard on her body.
She needed to find a place to shelter from the cold quickly before her body temperature drops further!
And then it came....a flood of memories not her own.
A frail girl, mocked as worthless, shunned as trash, beaten until abandoned in the wilderness to die. Her name was whispered through the haze of agony:
Erysimum Duskbane.
The torrent of memories struck her like a hammer. Her skull throbbed, her vision fractured between two lives. Her modern self betrayed and murdered. This broken body's self despised and cast aside.
Her stomach churned, bile rising. She clutched her head, gasping as tears and blood mingled on her face.
"What.. is going on?"she whispered.
The despair was suffocating, she was once dead and she's now here, but through the haze, something sharper stirred. A spark. A cold, furious resolve.
No matter the name. No matter the world. No matter the body.
She refused to be weak again.
The forest was hushed beneath the silver wash of moonlight. Only the faint, uneven breaths of a girl broke the silence. Erysimum lay on the cold earth, her body curled in pain, trembling as though even the night weighed heavily upon her.
A shift in the air stirred the branches. The leaves whispered not with the random touch of wind, but with intent, as if the forest itself was bowing to a presence.
And then he appeared.
Perched on the thick branch of an ancient tree sat a man cloaked in black. His robe absorbed the moonlight, making him one with the shadows, while his long white hair flowed like liquid frost down his back. Still and unhurried, he seemed less a man than a figure carved from the night itself, watching the world with an indifference that chilled the air around him.
He was such a beautiful and gorgeous person, but no one dared to covet his beauty.
He just stood there, not even the light in the world dared to touch him. His oppressive aura seemed to distort space.
Seeing this person was like seeing a black hole in the universe that could devour everything. He was like a heartless hand that manipulated all living beings in the three worlds.
He was extremely gorgeous and terrifying.
His gaze fell to the girl below. Bruised, broken, weak she looked like countless others who had been trampled beneath this world's cruelty. He was ready to dismiss her, to let her suffering pass unnoticed.
Until her lashes fluttered open.
In the depths of her dark eyes, faint streaks of red flickered like buried fire struggling against the dark. Ancient. Untamed. A spark that should not have been there.
His hand stilled mid-air. For the briefest moment, something stirred in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Almost lazily, as though the act was beneath him, he raised a finger. A thread of invisible energy drifted downward, soft as mist, settling over her fragile form. The tightness in her body eased her breathing steadied, no longer as shallow and desperate as before. Her pain dulled, just enough to keep her tethered to life.
He narrowed his eyes, the forest reflecting their glint.
Interesting.
The word echoed silently in his mind, more weight than curiosity. Then, as quickly as he had come. He left, yet his gaze lingered on her as the night reclaimed its stillness.
She was nothing. And yet... she had caught his attention.
And he was not a man who gave his attention lightly.