For most of his life, Lucian Vale had considered himself a rational man.
He believed in artifacts, not omens. In translation, not prophecy. His knowledge had always been rooted in the world that was—not the world that could be. But as he stood side by side with Seo Yena beneath the halls of ancient relics, hearing whispers from a glowing Sumerian tablet and watching old gods return to the sky, Lucian could no longer deny the truth.
Myth wasn't a story anymore.
It was a warning.
---
British Museum — Sublevel Archive, 6:24 AM
The faint hum of Lucian's artifacts had settled into a gentle pulse. The triangle of light between them had faded, but he could still feel something buzzing in the back of his mind—like the low frequency of a forgotten melody that wouldn't stop playing.
Seo Yena leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her eyes scanning the room like a soldier used to anticipating threats.
Lucian broke the silence. "You said we're not the only ones waking up. That others are... dangerous."
Yena gave a small nod. "There are factions. Not all the Mythborne want to protect this world. Some want to reshape it. Others want to burn it."
"Burn it?" Lucian scoffed, but it wasn't humor in his voice—it was disbelief layered with dread.
"There are legends of a group called the Crowned Shadow," Yena said. "They believe the world before the Veil was superior—when gods ruled mortals, when magic was law. They want to restore that age… at any cost."
Lucian frowned. "Even if it means destroying everything that exists now?"
"They think it's purification. The death of the old world to birth the true one."
Lucian was quiet for a long moment. "And this group—do they have Mythborne among them?"
Yena's gaze sharpened. "They were founded by one."
---
Flashback: A Dying Temple, 1879
A shadowed figure stood beneath the shattered roof of an ancient temple, watching the stars realign in patterns long lost to time.
He bore a crown broken into three jagged pieces—each fused into the bone of his skull. Runes were etched across his arms, glowing blood-red. A voice echoed from the stone altar behind him:
> "You have defied the pact."
The man turned, unafraid. "The pact was a lie. Mortals should never have been shielded from the gods."
> "You are marked for exile."
The man laughed, and the laugh became a roar that cracked the walls.
"I am not exiled," he spat. "I am reborn. And when the stars return, so shall I."
He stepped into the darkness.
The Veil closed behind him.
---
Present Day — London
Lucian absorbed the story in silence. "Do we know his name?"
"Only a title," Yena replied. "The King of Cinders. He was one of the first Mythborne. And he's still out there—somewhere behind the Veil."
Lucian glanced down at his still-glowing palm. "So what happens if he returns?"
"The world won't be the same," Yena said. "And neither will you."
---
Meanwhile — Antarctica, Black Site Omega-Frost
The military outpost was no longer operational.
Snow drifted silently through torn steel doors and cracked concrete. Blood froze on the walls. Dozens of bodies lay broken in patterns far too ritualistic to be random.
Only one man stood among the carnage—tall, pale, his eyes an unnatural shade of molten silver.
He wore no coat, no armor. Only a cloak of white fur that fluttered in the subzero winds.
In his hand, he held a crown.
It was cracked in three places.
A woman's voice crackled through a surviving comm unit. "Do you have the shard?"
The man raised the crown piece. "The first one," he replied.
"Two remain."
"I will find them. And when the crown is whole again…"
He looked up at the sky, where the aurora spiraled unnaturally.
"…he will awaken."
---
London — Hyde Park, Later That Day
Lucian and Yena stood near the Serpentine Lake, the museum far behind them now.
Lucian had spent hours researching references to the "King of Cinders," digging through databases, ancient scriptures, even forbidden texts archived in academic blacklists. All evidence pointed to one conclusion: the myth was buried, hidden under a hundred aliases, feared across multiple civilizations.
In some cultures, he was called Ash-Born. In others, The Flame That Walks. But the one thing that remained constant—his symbol:
A crown, broken into three.
Lucian turned to Yena. "There's one piece in the Arctic. Where are the others?"
Yena hesitated. "The second shard is said to be buried beneath the ruins of Babylon."
Lucian blinked. "As in... modern-day Iraq?"
Yena nodded. "And the third? Lost. But legend says it will only appear to the one who bears the Firebrand."
Lucian stiffened. "Firebrand?"
Yena slowly turned her gaze to his gloved hand.
"Your mark," she said.
---
Elsewhere — Underground Facility in Istanbul
In a dim room lit only by candles and arcane circuitry, a council of robed figures surrounded a glass orb. Inside it swirled a miniature storm of light, flickering with mythic energy.
One of the figures, a woman with golden eyes and a crown of thorns, spoke.
"He's awakened."
"Are you certain?" asked another voice.
The woman waved her hand over the orb. A hologram formed—Lucian's image, frozen mid-reach toward the tablet.
"The Firebrand lives," she said. "And so does the Mirror-Bearer."
A third voice growled. "Then the prophecy is moving too fast. We must act before the Serpent returns."
The woman nodded slowly.
"Send the Shadowkin."
---
London — Nightfall
Lucian stood atop his apartment building, staring up at the night sky.
The stars were wrong again.
Another constellation had appeared—this one shaped like a wolf with fire in its mouth.
He opened his notebook and recorded the symbol.
"Third time in two days," he muttered.
Yena sat beside him, sharpening a blade shaped like a crescent moon. "They're messages. From the other side."
"You think the Veil is talking to us?"
"No," she said. "I think something trapped behind it is trying to get out."
Lucian considered that in silence.
Finally, he looked at her. "You said earlier... I have to find the Mirror-Bearer. What is that?"
Yena's hands stilled.
She spoke without looking at him.
"There's a legend. That every Mythborne is a reflection of an ancient force. But the Mirror-Bearer? They reflect the opposite. Your shadow. Your balance. Or your destruction."
Lucian exhaled slowly.
And in the sky above them, the stars rearranged again.
The serpent returned—just for a moment—coiling around the stars of Orion.
It blinked.
And vanished.