The night bled silver.
Rain fell like whispers against the broken windows of the old monastery that crowned the cliffs of Elaris. Lightning tore the clouds apart, illuminating the ruins where a single figure stood — a girl, barefoot, drenched, clutching a rusted dagger that glowed faintly with blue veins of light.
Her name was Aria Velyn.
And though she did not know it yet, her blood was the reason entire kingdoms had fallen.
She pressed her trembling hand against the wound on her arm. The cut was shallow, but her blood shimmered faintly like liquid moonlight. She gasped and quickly wrapped it in cloth, terrified someone might see. She had been warned since childhood — never let anyone see your blood.
But tonight, everything had gone wrong.
The hunters had found her.
They had come with torches and silver spears, chanting the ancient decree of the High Temple: "Purge the forbidden line. Cleanse the blood that defies the gods."
She had barely escaped. Her village was gone — burned to silence. Everyone she loved, gone.
Now she was alone at the edge of the world.
Aria stumbled through the doorway of the monastery, the air thick with the scent of old incense and ashes. Statues of long-forgotten saints stared down from the shadows, their stone eyes cracked and hollow.
A whisper drifted through the air — not from her mind, but from the dagger itself.
> "The seal weakens. The Realm calls."
Aria froze. She had heard the voice before — in dreams, in the moments between waking and sleep. It was deep, ancient, neither man nor woman. And every time it spoke, something inside her heart ached as if remembering a promise she never made.
She turned the dagger over. Symbols glowed faintly along its blade — runes older than the empire itself. Her father had told her once: This blade is your curse and your key. Never draw it unless the sky turns red.
Tonight, the sky was red.
A sudden crack of thunder made her flinch. She turned sharply — and saw him.
A man stood at the entrance, cloaked in black, rain cascading off his shoulders. His eyes glowed faintly — not human, not natural — a piercing amethyst that seemed to see through her.
"Put the blade down," he said, his voice calm but cold.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "How did you find me?"
He stepped forward slowly, revealing a crest etched on the silver clasp of his cloak — two serpents entwined around a crown. The royal insignia of House Kaelith, the same house that had ordered the purge.
Aria's heart pounded. "You're one of them."
He did not deny it. "You shouldn't exist, girl."
"Then kill me," she spat, lifting the dagger. The runes flared to life, flooding the room with blue light.
But the man didn't move. His gaze softened, almost with sorrow. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be ashes already."
"Then what do you want?"
He hesitated. The wind howled through the cracks in the walls as if urging him to answer. "I want to keep you alive. For now."
Her grip on the dagger trembled. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to run," he said, stepping closer until the faint glow of her blood reflected in his eyes. "Because they're coming — the High Inquisitors. They can smell your blood from miles away. You won't last the night if you stay."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I'm the only one who knows what you are."
The words sliced through the silence. Aria stared at him, confusion flickering into fear. "What I am?"
"You're not a witch," he said quietly. "Not a demon. You're the last living heir of the Forbidden Realm — the bloodline exiled beyond the Veil a thousand years ago. The blood of the first gods runs through your veins."
She stepped back. "That's impossible. That realm doesn't exist. It's a myth."
"Then why does your blood glow like starlight?" he replied sharply. "Why does the blade sing when you touch it?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but her voice failed. The dagger pulsed again, stronger this time — a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. And with every pulse, the runes burned brighter, until the walls began to shake.
The man's expression darkened. "You've awakened it."
"Awakened what?"
"The seal." He turned toward the door. "We need to leave. Now."
But before they could move, the doors exploded inward.
A blast of fire and smoke filled the monastery as armored figures poured in — white-cloaked Inquisitors, their spears blazing with holy light.
"By decree of the High Temple!" one shouted. "The heretic child is here!"
Aria's world spun into chaos. She raised the dagger instinctively — and the light inside it burst forth like a storm.
The ground cracked. Statues shattered. A wave of energy rippled outward, throwing the Inquisitors back as if struck by a hurricane.
When the light faded, Aria stood trembling amid the ruin, her eyes glowing faint silver.
The cloaked man looked at her with something like awe — and fear.
"You've just broken the boundary," he said softly. "They'll all feel it — every realm, every god, every shadow that remembers your name."
She dropped the dagger, terrified. "What have I done?"
"You've opened the door," he whispered. "And once it opens, it can never be closed."
Outside, the storm had stopped. The sky was clear, painted in unnatural crimson light. Far beyond the horizon, in the space where the world met the unknown, something stirred — ancient, patient, and awake.
The Forbidden Realm had felt her call.
And it was answering.