Chapter 4 - Shadows Rising and the Beast’s Call

The world was crumbling beneath the weight of the Devourer King's return, and nowhere was safe from the spreading darkness that touched every corner of the land. The cities that once thrived now lay broken and silent, their streets filled with ash and whispers of doom. Fires burned low in the distance, casting flickering shadows that danced like lost souls across the ruined buildings. The sky above was torn by endless cracks, lightning slicing through the heavy clouds, as if the heavens themselves were breaking apart. People huddled in fear, hiding behind cracked walls and shuttered windows, speaking in hushed tones about the boy who had no Crest but wielded a power no mortal should possess. Far to the east, the great kingdom stirred in chaos. The throne room in the capital was a cold chamber of stone and iron, where Princess Lyria sat alone under her broken crown, her eyes burning with a cold fire that rivaled the darkest nights. Her heart was a battlefield of hatred and determination, for she bore the curse of her bloodline, a shadow that had followed her since birth, and now it fueled her desire to end the Devourer King before he destroyed everything. The princess had summoned her generals, men and women hardened by war and corruption, to form an army unlike any the land had ever seen. Soldiers clad in black armor stamped with ancient runes marched forward, their weapons forged in secret temples, blessed with magic to pierce shadow and sever curses. Yet even as the army advanced, the very land betrayed them. The forests grew darker, trees twisting into monstrous shapes, their branches reaching out like claws to snatch at anything living. The beasts that once obeyed the call of hunters became wild and savage, their eyes glowing red with unnatural hunger. Rivers ran thick with ash and blood, and the winds carried voices not of this world, whispers of ancient curses and forgotten wars. Far beyond the reach of the kingdom, in the jagged mountains that cut like knives into the sky, a great beast awoke. It was an ancient creature, older than memory, covered in scales that shimmered with the color of night and fire. Its eyes blazed with recognition as it felt the pulse of the Devourer Crest beating in the heart of the world. It let out a roar that shook the mountains and echoed in the mind of Ceyr, the boy who was no longer just a boy but a god in the making. The call was not just hunger but a summons, a connection forged in blood and shadow, drawing him closer to a destiny written before the stars were born. Meanwhile, Ceyr moved like a shadow through the ruins of his city, his body still burning with the black flame of the Devourer Crest. Veins of gold and darkness twisted beneath his skin, and the chains that floated around him moved with a will of their own, tightening and loosening like living armor. Behind him, the throne of stone and darkness pulsed with cursed light, a silent promise of power and destruction. Inside his mind, the voice of the Devourer whispered constantly, urging him to devour, to destroy, to remake the world in fire and shadow. But Ceyr held back, his mind sharper than ever before, knowing that raw power was only the first step. He needed to understand the throne, the beast within, and the true meaning of his cursed fate. Suddenly, the air shimmered, and the sky tore open as the princess's assassin, known as the Heaven's Chain, descended once more. The assassin was a living weapon, forged in the divine court, faster than thought and deadlier than death itself. His chains glowed with holy light, and his blade sang a song of oblivion. The battle between them was fierce and brutal, a clash of shadow and light that shook the earth and tore the sky. Ceyr learned that he was not alone in this war; enemies lurked in every shadow, waiting to hunt him down and end his rise. He could not face them all yet; he needed allies, power, and answers hidden deep beneath the ruins of forgotten kingdoms. As he traveled through the twisted forests, the pull of the great beast in the mountains grew stronger, a bond older than time itself. The land around him breathed with magic and pain, shadows dancing just beyond sight. Then came a scream from the dark sky, deep and terrible, a warning and a promise that the world itself was waking from a long slumber. Ceyr clenched his fists as the throne behind him flared with dark light. His journey was just beginning, and the flames of the Devourer King would soon consume all.