The darkness had returned.
Far in the corrupted south, deep beneath the charred lands, the leader of the demon army—called by many names but known to none—stepped into the ancient mansion built before time itself. The air inside was still, every shadow waiting.
He entered the grand chamber, a place untouched by light for centuries, and sat down on the throne carved from obsidian and bone. His red eyes dimmed for a moment, like the calm before a storm. Everyone waited. Silent. Tense.
Then, the heavy doors slammed open. Two demons hurried inside, carrying a metal chest wrapped in sacred bindings.
They kneeled, placing the chest before him.
The leader gestured, and the bindings disintegrated in a single breath. As he opened the lid, a blinding golden-red light burst out—pure energy, ancient and forbidden. The demons shielded their eyes. From the box, he lifted an artificial heart, forged from the soul of a thousand warriors and sealed with cursed fire. It pulsed in his hand like a living thing.
He tore open his own chest. No pain. No hesitation. The cavity was hollow—where once beat the original heart, now long hidden. With a twisted smile, he inserted the artificial heart into his body. The moment it fused, a wave of dark energy exploded through the mansion.
Walls trembled. Fire ignited in every brazier. The sky above blackened.
The leader stood. Taller now. Stronger.
He raised a hand, and the entire demon army assembled outside the fortress fell to their knees.
"Arise, my soldiers," he roared. "Our time has come. We are no longer bound by the chains of the past. We will become the conquerors of this world!"
The response thundered through the mountains—ten thousand voices screaming in unison, "Yeah!"
It was the official beginning. War had been declared.
Meanwhile, in the northern realms, the Main House of Light held an emergency gathering at dawn. Representatives from all houses were present, seated in a long chamber carved from white stone and laced with light runes.
Kael sat at the head of the long table, silent, but alert. His expression unreadable. The other leaders were murmuring about politics, border disputes, alliances.
But before the meeting could begin properly, the sky outside darkened unnaturally. A shadow moved above the clouds, and then it descended—a swirling black mass that twisted and took shape.
A giant face appeared in the sky. Not monstrous. Human.
"Soon, darkness will cover this world," the face said. Deep. Cold. Then it vanished without warning.
Chaos filled the room.
Some of the elders looked pale. One even dropped his glass of water. Only Kael remained still, his eyes focused.
He recognized that face. It was his father's—once hailed as the greatest warrior in the history of the Light. But Kael knew the truth. That man had died… or so everyone thought.
If that was his father… then who had Kael become?
The meeting shifted. No longer about diplomacy. It turned into a war council.
Kael began preparing the troops. Strategic maps were rolled open, patrol shifts organized, messengers sent across the lands. For the first time in years, he fully took command. Cold. Focused. But inside, something was pulling at him.
Lyra.
She still hadn't regained her full memories. She didn't know who she truly was. But her eyes lingered too long on Kael. Her hands would reach for him when she thought no one noticed. And in the quietest moments, her heart ached in ways she couldn't explain.
That night, while everyone was asleep, someone entered her chamber.
Silently. Swiftly.
By the time the guards noticed, it was too late. The kidnapper had already escaped through the shadows.
Alarms rang. Kael and the others gave chase through the woods, only to find a strange barrier spell that scattered their tracking efforts. They followed the trail into a forgotten valley—but there was no sign of the intruder. Only Lyra, lying unconscious in a clearing.
She was holding something. A stone. Smooth and flat, inscribed with runes none of them had seen before. Her hands clutched it tightly, as if her life depended on it.
They brought her back immediately, but she didn't wake up.
No matter what they did, she remained unconscious.
As the defenders of Light prepared for the coming battle, Kael stood on the front lines once more. His sword was drawn, his eyes dark with fury. This wasn't just another war—it was personal.
The enemy came with no mercy.
Demons fell from the sky like black rain. Fire and ash exploded across the plains. Horns blared in the distance. The ground shook with the weight of their advance.
Kael led the charge, blades clashing, bodies flying. All around him, screams and steel.
But somewhere far from that battlefield—inside Lyra's mind—another world was stirring.
Something ancient was calling to her. Not a memory. Not a dream. A truth buried too deep, too sacred, to surface until now.
She floated in an ocean of light and soundless emotion. The warmth of a forgotten night curled around her like mist.
She could see him.
Keal.
He was crying, holding her in his arms.
It was raining.
That dream—she remembered now. She had seen it before. A vision. A warning. Or maybe… a memory.
"I… I lo… love you," she had whispered to him once, before everything went dark.
She felt it all again. The warmth of his chest. The tremble in his fingers. His tears landing on her face like rain.
And now, within that quiet space, the stone in her hands glowed faintly. The symbols moved like they were alive—like they were waiting for her to remember who she truly was.
Outside, the war raged on.
Inside, something within her was waking up.