As night covered the sky, a young man walked through a city dark and grim. In the towers of old churches, candles remained lit—not for illumination, but as a warning: that the darkness in this city did not belong solely to the night, but was part of the city's very heart.
In the outer districts, where abandoned buildings housed refugees and alleys were filled with stagnant, foul water, Thou Vortery moved calmly. His leather shoes stepped through puddles mixed with blood, yet his face remained composed, like someone long accustomed to the stench of death.
At his waist hung a revolver, wrapped in a dark cloth marked with faint red symbols, visible only when touched by the mist. Beneath his coat, soft whimpering could sometimes be heard—not from him, but from the Eidolon still bound within his bloodline, waiting to be summoned.
He stopped before an old building that was once a house of worship. Its walls were cracked, its windows boarded shut, and the wooden door padlocked from the outside. Yet, beneath its foundation, a soft singing could be heard... the song of restless spirits.
Thou knocked three times.
A voice from behind the door answered, cold and sharp.
"Who seeks the truth under a forgotten name?"
He replied without hesitation,
"The one burned but never consumed. The one who lost their name for a death yet to come."
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a dark hallway covered with ancient symbols and murals. At the end of the hall stood an old woman in a hooded robe, her face covered with black cloth.
"You have come sooner than promised," she said. Her voice was brittle, like dried leaves crushed between fingers.
Thou stared straight ahead.
"They started harvesting earlier. Blood is flowing in District 9. I saw it myself—children taken during the night. None returned."
The woman paused, then beckoned him inside with a wave of her hand.
"Follow me. You must see it for yourself. The truth you seek to overturn... is older than this city."
They descended, spiraling down a stone staircase into the bowels of the earth. Along the walls, candles burned with purple flames, hinting at the presence of otherworldly energies. The deeper they went, the colder the air grew, and a whisper began to rise.
"Release us..."
"Avenge us..."
"They stole our souls..."
"They took everything..."
Thou showed no fear. These voices had long been companions to him. He simply kept walking forward, until the corridor opened into a domed chamber. In its center stood a stone pillar carved with ancient symbols. Around it, small spirits drifted like sorrowful fireflies.
"This," the woman said,
"Is the Core Primordial—the root of all sorcery in Velgrave. It was here that the first souls were sacrificed... and where the undying lords stole their immortality."
Thou stepped closer. He touched the stone—and suddenly, the blood in his veins boiled.
Memories not his own flooded his mind. Screams. Flames. Ancient rituals. A child submerged into an altar of blood. A woman—his mother—screaming, struggling, bound with chains made of bone. And a voice—a man crowned with fire:
"Your blood will carry me across time."
Thou collapsed to his knees. His eyes widened. Symbols across his body glowed, and from his back, an Eidolon emerged—a spectral knight, roaring with a fury that burned the very air.
The woman did not flinch.
"You have seen it. You are their legacy. Half your blood comes from those you wish to destroy."
Thou panted heavily. His gaze hardened as he looked at her.
"That's why... I must destroy it all. From the roots. From the foundation. With their own blood."
The woman gave a thin smile.
"Then... it is time to awaken the oldest of them all. You will need a force darker than death itself."
And the mist slowly thickened around them.
---
Yet before they could move further, a loud explosion thundered from above. Stones trembled, and dust rained from the ceiling. The woman tensed.
"They've come sooner than I expected," she muttered.
"The Hounds of the Cathedral."
Thou quickly rose to his feet. The Eidolon behind him dissolved, merging back into his bones and blood.
"Then I must leave. I can't let them know I'm alive."
The woman reached into her robe and handed him a small object—a black coin etched with the symbol of a closed eye.
"When you find the gate with three blood-holes, use this. It will open the way to the Chamber of the Exiled. There, the rebellious spirits await your call."
Thou took the coin and tucked it inside his coat. Without another word, he turned and sprinted up the stone stairs like a shadow, disappearing into the mist.
Outside, the night remained unchanged. But the wind began to carry a different whisper—sharper, colder.
On the rooftops of the old buildings, figures in iron cloaks watched the city with eyes glowing white. In their hands, they carried sacred swords plunged deep into the ground. With a single step, the earth froze.
They had caught the scent of ancient blood.
And they knew:
The Heir of the Old Blood had risen once again.
Velgrave, once more, braced itself for a war that had never truly ended.
-To Be Continued