Rain lashed over Althon, a town long forgotten by warring kingdoms, yet harboring secrets older than the stars themselves. Its narrow streets twisted through crumbling houses, alleys slick with mud and broken tiles. The wind carried the scent of decay, mingled with the faint aroma of wet earth, and each step Serafin took echoed against walls scarred by time and cruelty. Here, in the slums, both he and Kaelya had been forged, shaped by hardship, violence, and the relentless grip of survival.
Even amidst such darkness, there had been light. A single glimmer, fragile yet persistent. They had been each other's reason to live, the only anchor in a world of chaos. Serafin could still recall the first time their paths had crossed, etched into his memory with painful clarity.
He had been ten, his small body emaciated from hunger, his skin marked by bruises and scratches from nights spent fending off street gangs. The city offered no mercy. Children disappeared overnight; screams echoed through the alleys, swallowed only by darkness. And yet, that night, he had seen her, Kaelya.
She had been there in the shadows of a grimy brothel, a silent figure with eyes too intense, too alive for someone so young. Unlike the other girls who were led by fear, or the men who used violence as currency, she possessed an inner fire, a defiance that refused to bend. Even then, beneath the grime and shadows, she had radiated a strength that drew him in.
Their eyes met across the mud and filth, a moment suspended in time. No words were necessary. Their souls recognized each other, an invisible thread weaving itself between them.
"Why are you here?" Kaelya asked, her voice low, almost a whisper, yet sharp enough to cut through the chill of the night.
"I'm looking… I'm looking for a place to be free," Serafin answered simply.
Kaelya studied him, the flicker of a smile touching her lips briefly. "Freedom isn't given, Serafin. It must be taken."
They had shared a night beneath invisible stars, sitting in the dust and speaking of dreams that had seemed impossible: escape, safety, a life where they would not have to fear every shadow. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed like it might hold mercy for them. That night, Kaelya gave Serafin a promise, one that would echo across the years. No matter what came, they would protect each other. And he, in turn, vowed that he would never let her falter.
But life had other plans. The war that swept across kingdoms tore everything apart. Serafin was conscripted, trained to fight and kill, hardened into a weapon of survival. Kaelya, sold into the same brothel where they had first met, fought for her life in ways that no child should endure. Yet despite the distance, despite the cruelty of the world, the memory of each other remained, a secret flame neither could extinguish.
Years passed. When they met again, it was not the children of the slums who reunited, but two survivors, sharpened by suffering, tempered by pain. Kaelya had changed into a silent, deadly assassin. Her defiance remained, but it was now tempered with discipline, strategy, and an unwavering focus. And Serafin, once a boy of fragile hope, had grown into a man carrying the weight of a prophecy, the legacy of the Cataclysm, and the scars of countless battles.
Yet standing in the rain-slicked streets of Althon, amidst ruins that whispered of forgotten lives, their bond remained unbroken. The prophecy had brought them together, but it was their shared history, their trust, their fire, that anchored them. The world had stripped them of innocence, but not of each other.
"You were a dream once," Kaelya murmured as they walked side by side, their footsteps barely audible over the patter of rain. "You gave me hope I thought I'd lost forever. And you… you believed I could survive it all."
Serafin's gaze met hers, his eyes heavy with years of buried emotion. "You've changed, Kaelya. But you are still the girl who survived everything."
She did not answer immediately. The wind twisted through the broken buildings, carrying shards of memory, fragments of promises made in the dark. She paused, looking ahead as if seeing something he could not yet perceive.
"I won't leave you," she finally said, her voice soft but resolute. "Not now. Not when we have a purpose greater than both of us."
Serafin nodded. Words were unnecessary. Their bond, forged in fire, blood, and survival, was indestructible. Together, they would walk the path fate had laid before them, however treacherous it might be.
The rain intensified, drumming on broken rooftops and pooling in gutters clogged with debris. Shadows shifted unnaturally, stretching and twisting across the walls like living things. The city itself seemed alive with secrets, whispering warnings of dangers unseen. Serafin tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his senses honed from years of combat.
"Something's coming," he said, voice low, eyes scanning the darkness. "I can feel it."
Kaelya's hand brushed his arm. "Then we'll face it together," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of steel beneath its softness.
As they turned a corner, the silhouette of a figure appeared in the misty street ahead. Tall, cloaked, and impossibly still. Serafin's breath caught. There was an aura of power, of something beyond the natural world.
The figure stepped forward. Raindrops slid off its form without touching, and its eyes glowed faintly beneath the hood, silver like the moonlight above.
"You have survived," the voice said, echoing in the empty street, soft yet carrying the weight of centuries. "But survival is only the beginning. The Cataclysm stirs within you, Serafin. And soon, the world will demand its reckoning."
Serafin's heart pounded. The memories of his childhood, the horrors of war, the whispers of prophecy, they all collided into a single, terrifying truth. The journey ahead would be unlike anything he had faced.
Kaelya's dagger glinted in the dim light, yet she did not move forward. She studied the figure, her expression unreadable. "Who are you?" she demanded, voice firm.
"I am neither friend nor foe," the figure replied, stepping closer. "I am the witness. I have seen the cycles of power rise and fall. And you… you are the fulcrum. Everything turns upon your choices."
The rain pounded harder, drumming against broken roofs and twisted streets, as if the city itself was holding its breath. The figure extended a hand, faint light radiating from it, illuminating symbols etched into the ground, ancient glyphs that pulsed faintly with magic.
"You have been prepared for this moment since birth," the figure said. "But preparation alone will not save you. You must choose. You will face tests that will strip everything from you, including hope. And yet… only you can tip the balance between ruin and renewal."
Serafin swallowed hard. The prophecy, the Bearers, the Ancients… it was no longer abstract. It was immediate, tangible, and dangerous. And Kaelya, standing beside him, was his only constant.
"Are you ready?" the figure asked, voice echoing like distant thunder.
Serafin glanced at Kaelya, her eyes reflecting the same storm that raged within him. He took a deep breath. "We have no choice. We go forward. Together."
The figure nodded slowly. "Then walk the path. But beware… the shadows are patient. They watch. They wait. And not all will survive the night."
Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the figure vanished, leaving nothing but the sound of rain and the distant echo of whispers.
Serafin and Kaelya stood in silence, hearts hammering, muscles tense. Somewhere in the darkness, unseen eyes followed their every move. The storm around them was nothing compared to the storm that was about to descend.
Kaelya's hand tightened on his arm. "Let's move. Whatever waits, it won't wait for us to be ready."
As they disappeared into the labyrinth of rain-slicked alleys, Serafin knew one thing with absolute certainty: the world was no longer a place for the weak. And the choices they made tonight could either save it, or destroy it entirely.