The Fall of House Emagrane
The world was a vast crucible of ambition. Kingdoms rose and fell like waves, each claiming divine right, each drowning in its thirst for power. In this age, strength was law—wealth, magic, and bloodline were the measure of one's worth. And none were more revered, nor more feared, than House Emagrane.
Yet even mountains crumble.
Beneath the stormy heavens of Mount Rigan, the sky burned green and silver as war tore the valley apart. Explosions thundered through the peaks, shaking the heavens themselves. Aura blasts split the air, and torrents of magic scorched the fields. The scent of ash and iron hung thick as thousands screamed, clashing amidst the ruins of what had once been a proud domain.
Through the chaos, a soldier stumbled forward, his armor cracked, his face smeared with blood and grime.
"General!" he gasped, barely standing. "The mages on the left flank. They're being overwhelmed! They request reinforcements!"
The general turned, his emerald eyes cold beneath his sweat-soaked hair. Before he could answer, another soldier sprinted through the smoke, desperation etched across his face.
"General! The central line is collapsing! We can't hold them any longer!"
The general's jaw clenched. His gaze swept across the battlefield— smoldering banners, the dying groans of comrades, the glimmer of silver light devouring green. He exhaled slowly.
"There are no reinforcements," he said, voice low but steady. "In this battle… only annihilation awaits."
Then he drew his sword.
With a roar that split the din of war, he charged forward. His boots tore through the mud, emerald aura flaring like a comet. Each swing of his blade cut through armour and flame alike, the dying embers of House Emagrane burning in his wake.
"The family head…" he muttered under his breath. "If he still lives, this war isn't over."
He vanished into the smoke.
At the summit of Mount Rigan, two titans clashed beneath the screaming heavens.
Each swing of their blades shook the mountain to its roots. The air rippled, bending under the pressure of their aura.
A deep voice laughed amidst the storm.
"As expected of the head of House Emagrane. You've endured far longer than I thought possible."
The speaker's silver hair danced in the wind, his blade glowing with lunar light. Every strike he unleashed carved through stone, his mere presence bending space around him. He was Bafestho Kira, warlord and betrayer, the man who had once held alliance with the very house, he now sought to erase.
Opposite him stood a tall man with long green hair, his robe torn and stained with blood. Despite the wounds that marred his body, his stance remained unbowed, his emerald eyes blazing with defiance.
Gray Emagrane, Patriarch of the fallen house.
"Bafestho Kira…" Gray coughed, spitting blood that sizzled on the rocks. "Do you even comprehend what you've done? You broke the laws implanted by the great sage" His voice rose, carrying over the thunder. "You power-hungry fool!"
Bafestho's smirk was ice. "Broke the laws? That monster died years ago. There is no need in submitting to his ideals." His silver eyes gleamed. "Your wife, your heirs, they've already gone to meet their maker. You'll be joining them soon enough."
The words struck like daggers, but Gray did not flinch. He lifted his chin, emerald light swirling faintly around him.
"My reign may end today," he said quietly, "and my family may be lost… but the will of House Emagrane will not die." His voice deepened, echoing with ancient power. "One day, a descendant will rise. Our blood will burn again!— I swear it. Before the gods and before this world, our fallen will be avenged!"
Bafestho's expression darkened. "Then die with your delusions!"
Their swords collided again, a blinding flash consuming the peak. Sparks rained down like dying stars. Yet even as he faltered, Gray's aura began to change,his wounds glowed with radiant green light.
He spread his hands, summoning the last of his strength. The ground trembled as energy spiralled toward him, gathering into a small orb of pulsing emerald radiance.
"Before the heavens and the void beyond…" he whispered, his voice trembling yet resolute.
The sphere swelled in his palm, humming with divine resonance.
"Nebula—LIBERATION!" he yelled at the top of his voice, slamming the orb into the ground.
For a heartbeat, the world froze,then the mountain erupted.
A tidal wave of emerald light devoured everything. Mountains crumbled, clouds split open, and even Bafestho's silver aura disintegrated under the storm. The blast roared for ten seconds, it's cry echoing across the heavens.
Far below, the general Victor stumbled to his knees as the explosion painted the sky green.
"Family head… please be alive!" he whispered, and sprinted toward the collapsing peak.
When he arrived, the proud summit of Mount Rigan was gone,only a vast crater remained, glowing with fading light. At its center lay Gray Emagrane, barely breathing, his robes in tatters, his body burnt nearly beyond recognition.
"Lord Gray…" Victor's voice broke. He dropped to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp.
Gray's eyes flickered open. "Do not weep, Victor…" he rasped. "There is still… hope." He coughed weakly, blood staining his lips. "Take your wife. Flee. Live,and carry our name in silence… until the chosen one rises again."
"Please..my lord..don't" victor muttered and bit his lower lip.
Gray's hand found his shoulder, faint but steady. "Protect the will… of Emagrane."
And then, with a soft exhale, his emerald eyes dimmed forever.
Victor bowed his head, tears mixing with ash. "Yes, my lord… your dying wish shall be my life's mission."
He rose, gaze blazing with renewed purpose, and vanished into the smoke as dawn broke.
By sunrise, House Emagrane was no more.
Its banners Burnt to ash, its warriors' corpse lay scattered and cold on the battlefield dyed red with pools of blood, and its glory was erased from the tongues of men. The name Emagrane buried beneath centuries of silence.
And so, the world turned.
Seven hundred years later…
no one remembered that it had ever existed.
To be continued..