The first thing I felt was not pain, but the cold.
It was a cold that did not merely touch the skin; it burrowed deep into the marrow, a predatory chill that sought to extinguish the faint spark of life flickering within my chest. I gasped, my lungs filling with air that tasted of wet ash and ancient decay. My eyes snapped open, but they were met only by a suffocating expanse of gray.
Mist. Infinite, swirling, impenetrable mist.
I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy, as if I were submerged in deep water. My fingers dug into the ground beneath me. It was not soil, but a coarse mixture of dust and brittle fragments. I brought a handful closer to my face, squinting through the gloom.
They were bone shards. I was lying in a desert of pulverized skeletons.
Panic, sharp and electric, surged through my veins. Where am I? Who am I?
My mind was a fractured mirror. I reached for a name, a memory, a face—anything to anchor me to reality—but I found only jagged edges and a terrifying void. The only thing I knew was the name that echoed in the silence of my mind, a name that felt both foreign and intimately mine: Kael.
"Kael..." I whispered, my voice raspy, like dry leaves scraping over stone.
As if in response to my voice, a sudden, searing agony erupted in the center of my chest. It was not the cold anymore; it was fire. Liquid, molten fire. I tore open the ragged linen shirt I was wearing, my trembling fingers fumbling with the fabric.
There, directly over my heart, the skin was branded.
It was a complex, geometric sigil—a circle encasing a seven-pointed star, interwoven with runes I could not read but somehow understood. The mark glowed with a malevolent crimson light, pulsating in rhythm with my frantic heartbeat. It was beautiful, intricate, and utterly terrifying. It felt less like a tattoo and more like a keyhole burned into my very soul.
The Red Seal. The name surfaced in my thoughts unbidden.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stand. My legs wobbled, weak as a newborn colt's, but I managed to stay upright. The landscape around me was a nightmare painted in shades of gray. Twisted trees with black bark clawed at the sky like agony-stricken hands. The silence was absolute—no birds, no wind, not even the scuttle of insects. Just the oppressive weight of the mist.
This was a place where things went to die, and stayed dead. Or so I hoped.
A sound shattered the stillness. Crunch. Crunch. Drag.
It came from behind a cluster of jagged rocks to my left. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The sound was wet and heavy, the noise of meat being dragged over stone.
Hide, my instincts screamed.
I scrambled behind a withered tree trunk, pressing my back against the rough bark. The crimson light from my chest was too bright; I clamped my hand over it, trying to muffle the glow, but the red luminescence bled through my fingers.
From the mist, a figure emerged.
It was humanoid, but only in the loosest sense of the word. It stood perhaps seven feet tall, its body a grotesque patchwork of rotting muscle and exposed bone. It wore the rusted remnants of chainmail armor that had fused with its flesh. Where its face should have been, there was only a cavernous hole lined with jagged, yellowed teeth.
A Corpse Eater.
The creature paused, sniffing the air. It had no eyes, but it didn't need them. It could smell the lifeblood pumping through my veins. It could smell the fear.
It turned its head slowly, directly toward my hiding spot. A low, gurgling growl vibrated in its chest.
I was going to die. I had just woken up in this hell, with no memories and a burning brand on my chest, only to be devoured by a monstrosity.
The creature shrieked—a sound like metal tearing—and lunged.
I stumbled back, tripping over a protruding root. I fell hard, the breath knocked out of me. The monster was upon me in a second, its rotting stench overwhelming my senses. I raised my arms in a futile attempt to shield myself, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for the teeth to tear into my flesh.
ZING.
The sound was sharp, clear, and melodious—the singing of high-quality steel cutting through the air.
The weight of the monster never landed on me. Instead, a wet thud echoed, followed by the heavy crash of a body hitting the ground.
I opened my eyes.
The Corpse Eater lay a few feet away. Its head had been severed cleanly, rolling to a stop near my boot. Black blood pooled rapidly beneath the carcass.
Standing over the corpse was a figure that stole the breath from my lungs more effectively than the fear had.
She was tall, encased in a full suit of armor forged from a metal darker than the night sky—obsidian plate mail that seemed to absorb the dim light around us. A tattered cape of crimson velvet hung from her shoulders. She held a massive greatsword, the blade at least five feet long, etched with runes that pulsed with a faint violet hue.
But it was her face that captivated me. She had removed her helmet. Her skin was pale, possessing the flawless, marble-like quality of a statue. Her hair was a cascade of liquid silver, falling straight to her waist. Her eyes... they were the color of glacial ice, cold, indifferent, and undeniably dead.
She was death incarnate. And she was beautiful.
She flicked her sword, sending a spray of black blood onto the gray ground, and then turned those freezing eyes toward me. She didn't look at me like a savior looks at a victim. She looked at me like a predator inspecting a curiosity.
She took a step forward. The ground trembled slightly under the weight of her armor.
"Human," she said. Her voice was a monotone contralto, devoid of warmth. "You smell... loud."
I scrambled backward, pushing myself through the bone dust. "Stay back," I warned, though my voice lacked any real authority.
She tilted her head. "You are weak. Frail. A gust of wind could shatter your bones. Why does the mist not consume you? Why do the dead hesitate?"
She raised her sword, the tip pointing directly at my throat. "Perhaps I should grant you mercy before the Valley drives you mad."
As the blade inched closer, the seal on my chest reacted violently. The pain spiked to an unbearable level, and a wave of heat exploded from my heart. It wasn't just pain; it was authority.
My vision turned red. I felt a sudden, invisible tether snap into place—a chain connecting my soul to the woman standing before me.
"Kneel!" I shouted.
I didn't mean to say it. The word tore itself from my throat, commanded by the seal rather than my conscious mind.
The effect was instantaneous.
The woman's eyes widened in shock. Her body stiffened, fighting against an unseen force. The greatsword trembled in her hand. She gritted her teeth, a low growl escaping her lips as she struggled against the command.
"What... is... this?" she hissed.
"I said, kneel," I repeated, my voice echoing with a power that wasn't mine.
The resistance shattered. Her knees hit the ground with a heavy thud. The greatsword slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the bones. She was forced into a bowing position, her forehead nearly touching the ground, completely immobilized by the red aura emanating from my chest.
I gasped for air, clutching my chest as the heat began to subside. The red glow dimmed, returning to a steady, rhythmic pulse.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Slowly, the woman lifted her head. The indifference in her eyes was gone, replaced by a turbulent mix of confusion, humiliation, and something else—a primal, terrifying hunger.
She looked at the seal on my chest, then up to my eyes. Her pupils dilated.
"The Red Seal," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "The Mark of the Sovereign."
She didn't stand up. Instead, she shifted her posture, placing her right fist over her heart in a salute of ancient servitude. But her eyes... her eyes were locked onto me with an intensity that made me feel like prey in a different way.
"I am Valeria, the First Blade of the Ashen Guard," she declared. "You have awakened me from the Void, Master."
She tested the word on her tongue, as if tasting it.
"Master," she repeated, softer this time. A faint, unsettling smile touched her pale lips.
"Your soul... it burns so brightly. I haven't felt warmth in a thousand years."
I looked at the beautiful, deadly monster kneeling before me, and then at the endless mist surrounding us. I realized then that I hadn't been saved. I had simply traded a mindless beast for a sentient calamity.
"Get up, Valeria," I said, my voice shaking.
"We need to talk."