The dungeons beneath Aramoor were once cold, but clean. Built to hold criminals, debtors, and the broken detritus of a kingdom's unrest.
Now they stank of demon-breath, burned stone, and the metallic taste of fear.
Torchlight guttered in the filthy corridors, throwing shadows like claws against the walls. The moans of the imprisoned carried through the gloom men, women, elders, and even a few children chained together like livestock.
Demons stalked the hallways. Not the towering overlords of the Below, but mid-ranked soldiers of the fallen realms, horned, armoured, with eyes glowing dull red like embers in dying fire.
And among the prisoners, crouched at the far corner of the third cell, was a man whose eyes glowed faintly with gold.
A worshipper of Aelus.
He wore no armour. Only torn clothing, bruised skin, and a shiver of divine spark still pulsing within him. The demon guarding the cell had beaten him once for praying out loud, but the man had not stopped. He had prayed in a whisper even when his lips bled.
Now he waited.
Patient.Silent.Coiled like a spring beneath the weight of destiny.
When the demons dragged in a fresh group of captives, bloodied, terrified, another demon barked for his cell to be opened.
The keys jangled.
The gate creaked.
A guard demon entered to shove new prisoners into the cell.
And at that moment
Aelus's worshipper pressed his fingers to the ground, feeling the faintest hum of divine blessing still in his blood.
A breath.A whisper.A single invocation.
"Light of dawn… let him sleep."
The golden spark pulsed.
And the demon's eyes rolled back.
With a heavy crash, the creature collapsed to the ground, snoring like a beast drugged by venom.
The prisoners gasped.
The second demon barked, "What?"
But before he could step inside, the worshipper lunged. His hand snatched the keys from the sleeping demon's belt. He spun, slammed the gate shut, and locked it.
The second demon cursed and lunged
The worshipper slipped past him, sprinting down the corridor. Screeches echoed behind him, the clang of metal, the snarling rage of caged monsters.
His heart pounded. His legs burned. But he ran.
Up the stone steps.Through the broken door.Into Aramoor's ruined streets.
The city above was worse than the dungeons.
Ash fell like grey snow. Buildings smouldered. Corpses lay half-buried beneath rubble. Demon patrols stalked the streets in packs.
The worshipper pressed himself into a doorway, panting.
He had to find a horse. He had to escape. He had to warn someone, anyone, before the demons spread beyond the city's walls.
He crept from shadow to shadow, praying silently as he moved.
Aelus, guide me.Aelus, protect me. Aelus, see me.
He turned a corner.
And froze.
A group of children huddled against a collapsed bakery, terrified and clutching one another. Two demons stood over them one laughing, the other raising its blade.
The worshipper knew demons well enough to understand the truth:
They were going to slaughter the children for sport.
His stomach twisted.
He could run. He could hide. He could survive.
But the children
They had nowhere to go.
He stepped into the street.
"STOP!"
The demons turned.
"What is this?" one sneered. "A little mortal trying to save his tiny mortal whelps?"
The worshipper lifted a shard of metal he'd grabbed from the dungeon floor a broken piece of a rack, sharpened with desperation.
"You want blood?" he said, voice shaking. "Take mine."
The demons laughed.
"You first."
One lunged.
The worshipper stabbed desperately, clumsily but the demon slapped the shard aside and seized him by the throat. The worshipper gagged as he was lifted into the air, choking, kicking.
The demon drew back its fist ready to crush his skull
And then the world split with golden fire.
A burst of pure radiance speared downward from the sky, striking the demon square in the chest. It shrieked its body igniting instantly before collapsing into ash and vanishing on the wind.
The worshipper fell to his knees, coughing.
The remaining demon roared, swinging its blade toward the new arrival
Aelus caught the blade in one hand.
Wearing mortal flesh, Aelus appeared young barefoot, cloaked in golden cloth, eyes blazing like sunrise. His hair glowed with the brilliance of dawn, and his presence altered the air itself.
The demon snarled.
"You shouldn't be here."
Aelus smiled softly.
"I walk where I must."
With a flick of his wrist, he crushed the demon's skull. The creature collapsed, body dissolving into smoke.
Silence fell.
The worshipper bowed low, forehead touching the dirt.
"Lord… Aelus…"
The god placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You were brave," Aelus said gently. "You acted when others hid. You shielded children when hope dared not stand."
The man trembled.
"I only wanted to help… but my help was small."
"Even a candle pushes back darkness," Aelus said.
The children, wide-eyed, approached slowly. One girl tugged his cloak. Another boy whispered, "Are you… Are you really Aelus?"
The god smiled with warmth thick enough to melt ice.
"Yes. And you are safe."
The children fell to their knees and began to pray, their small voices quivering.
Aelus turned back to his worshipper.
"You must ride to the Sanctuary of Torvas," he said. "The High Priest is there. The Blade is there. And others who will shape what is coming."
The worshipper swallowed.
"My lord… I do not know the way."
Aelus extended a hand. Light shimmered in it. A map etched on parchment unfolded itself in golden lines, marking the path clearly.
Then came the sound of hooves.
A white horse appeared beside them, summoned from the god's own power, its mane made of faint sunlight threads. A sword lay strapped to its saddle.
"Ride," Aelus said. "Carry warning. Carry truth."
The worshipper rose, wiping blood from his brow.
"I will not fail you."
Aelus nodded.
"You will not ride alone. My blessing follows you."
The worshipper mounted the horse. The children watched, awe colouring their fear. The horse neighed, and the worshipper spurred it into motion, galloping out of the ruined square.
Aelus watched until he vanished.
Then the god looked down at the children his new devotees.
"You are not abandoned," he whispered.
And then, with a shimmer of golden dust
He vanished.
The moment Aelus left the square, the shadows began to move again.
Five demons larger than the others, faster, smarter. Their horns curved like hooked daggers. Their armour was blackened bone. Their eyes burned with crimson hunger.
They sniffed the air.
One leaned down and placed its ear against the ground.
Footsteps whispered through.
Hooves thundered far away.
The demon's eyes widened.
"I hear the path the High Priest fled along."
The leader snarled in satisfaction.
"Show us."
The demon pressed its palm to the ground.
A dark pulse rippled outward.
Shadows bent. Ash twisted. The faint memory of movement replayed across the street.
Five pairs of footprints.One set heavier the High Priest carried by the Blade. One lighter Dream's mortal form moving silently. One smallest Erias.
The demon grinned.
"They went east. Toward the hills. Toward Torvas's sanctuary."
The largest demon straightened.
"Then we pursue."
The five demons began marching. Each step curdled the earth beneath their feet. Each breath drew in the last bits of hope that lingered in Aramoor's ruins.
As they moved, the leader licked its lips.
"And when we find them," it hissed, "we will drag the High Priest back to the traitor. The boy too. The stranger as well."
Another demon asked, "And if the Blade stands in our way?"
The leader grinned, baring fangs.
"Then we will break him."
The five demons walked east, moving with the silent hunger of predators who already tasted blood on the air.
Behind them, Aramoor smouldered, a city conquered, a people broken, a throne stolen.
But light had returned, a tiny thread of dawn, a single worshipper carrying hope, a god who dared descend.
And I, the First, felt destiny twist.