The sky was burning.
What had once been blue was now an endless curtain of red and black. Clouds twisted like living things, lightning screaming across them as the world below crumbled. The air tasted like iron, and every breath cut like a blade.
On the highest wall of the ruined city, Ardyn Vale stood alone. His armor was broken, his cloak torn, his body trembling from exhaustion. Beneath him, his army — the last of humanity's defense — had already fallen.
The rift in the sky pulsed wider, swallowing light, sound, and hope. It wasn't a storm. It was the end itself.
Ardyn pressed his hand against his chest, feeling the faint glow beneath his cracked armor. The Aether Seal burned there — the last forbidden art.
"Commander!" a voice shouted from below. A lone soldier, bleeding and limping, staggered toward the wall. "The barrier's gone! The Rift is consuming everything!"
Ardyn didn't answer. He could barely hear through the roaring wind. The ground was shaking beneath his boots, entire towers folding into the red light of the rift.
He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the sun had already been eaten by darkness.
"So this is it," he murmured. "This is what peace costs."
A small smile tugged at his lips — bitter, tired, almost amused. He had sacrificed everything: his soldiers, his city, his friends. All for the promise that someone, somewhere, would live.
But now there was nothing left to save.
The soldier fell to his knees beside him. "Sir… orders?"
Ardyn looked at the man — young, terrified, eyes wide with faith. He remembered a time when he'd been the same.
"Go," Ardyn said softly. "You've done enough."
The soldier shook his head. "But—"
Ardyn's voice grew firm, calm, certain. "That's an order."
The soldier hesitated, saluted, and vanished into the smoke.
Alone again, Ardyn looked down at his hand. The Aether Seal's light had turned pure white now — unstable, alive.
He had one last choice.
He could die here, and let the rift consume everything.
Or he could bind his soul to it — take it with him — and buy the world one final chance.
His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. "One life," he whispered. "One more chance."
He raised the blade, its edge catching the dying light of the world.
The ground beneath him cracked open, beams of crimson energy splitting the city apart. The rift screamed louder, like it knew what he was about to do.
Ardyn closed his eyes. In the darkness, he saw the faces of his soldiers. Their laughter. Their trust. Their final breaths.
And a voice — faint, feminine — "Come back to me."
He exhaled slowly.
"I can't," he said. "But maybe… next time."
The blade plunged into his chest.
A surge of light tore through everything. The wall, the city, the sky — all shattered into fragments of glowing dust. His body disintegrated, but his will clung to one final thought:
> "Let this world be reborn without me."
Then silence.
---
There was warmth.
Not the fire of destruction — something softer. Gentler.
He heard crying. Not his own. A woman's.
"Congratulations, my love," she whispered, her voice shaking with tears. "He's breathing… he's breathing!"
"Cael," a man said. "His name will be Cael."
The light was blinding. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't obey. He couldn't speak. He couldn't understand.
He remembered dying. He remembered pain. He remembered the rift, the screams, the sword in his chest.
But now… he felt safe.
Warm hands lifted him, wrapped him in a blanket. He felt the steady heartbeat of the woman holding him. The air smelled of herbs and wood and life.
Life.
How long had it been since he'd felt that?
He opened his mouth — only a weak cry came out.
The woman laughed, crying harder now. "He's strong," she said. "Our little Cael."
The man's voice was warm. "He'll grow up far from war. Far from pain."
War.
The word struck something deep inside him.
War.
He didn't know why, but the sound of it made his tiny body tense. His heart pounded faster, as if remembering something it shouldn't.
The woman noticed and hushed him gently. "It's all right, little one. You're safe now."
Safe.
The world was spinning slowly. The room faded to soft colors, golden candlelight, and shadows moving on wooden walls.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
For just a moment — a fraction of a heartbeat — the warmth slipped away, replaced by the faint sound of marching boots and clashing steel.
No.
It was gone as soon as it came.
The woman smiled down at him, brushing his hair aside. "Sleep, Cael."
He stared up at her face. So peaceful. So kind. So alive.
The tears came before he understood why.
He had seen too many people die. He had failed too many times.
Yet now… he was here.
A new name. A new world. A second chance.
He closed his eyes as exhaustion took him, his tiny hand curling weakly against her chest.
The warmth wrapped around him once more.
And as he drifted into sleep, his last thought was a whisper that didn't belong to him — a voice echoing through time, filled with both hope and guilt:
> "Live, Ardyn. This time… live."
---
End of Chapter 1: The Last Stand