CHAPTER 1 — THE WHISPERING REALMS
People said the world was not a single stretch of existence.
There were seven Realms—layered like drifting continents of the cosmos.
Four of them belonged to the Dark Gods, ancient beings whose whispers could twist the heart of any living creature. These territories were known as the Cursed Dominions—lands where blood rained, shadows breathed, and forgotten curses crawled like living mist.
Most mortals never spoke of them.
Most cultivators feared even their names.
But the Realms had begun to stir.
And the first place to feel the tremor…
was Ghauriya Peaks.
---
Ghauriya Peaks
Though it was midday, the sky above the mountain range had turned night-black. Clouds churned and twisted, forming shapes no storm had ever produced. The air trembled—not with thunder, but with pressure, heavy enough to crush the spirit of weaker cultivators.
Two figures hovered above the sharp, snow-dusted ridges.
Their long robes snapped in the unnatural wind, their auras thick enough to bend the air around them.
It crackled—literally. Tiny hairline fractures opened and closed around their silhouettes, like reality struggled to contain their cultivation levels.
The older cultivator spoke first, voice tight and grim:
"Look at the seal… it's weakening faster than predicted."
His companion—younger, breathing hard—swallowed.
He pointed toward a jagged stone altar far below. The ground around it glowed with ghostly blue sigils, but the lines flickered like dying fireflies.
"Elder Veras… is it truly awakening?"
Veras didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because at that moment, a form began rising from the altar—a smoke-like creature, coiling upward like a serpent of shadow. Two distorted arms reached out, ending in claw-like shapes. Its torso flickered between man and beast, and its skull-like head carried eyes glowing with red darkness—a color that should not have existed in the mortal world.
The younger cultivator felt sweat run down his spine.
"That aura… Elder… this is no mere fragment."
Veras' jaw clenched.
"It is an Avatar. A direct projection of a Dark God."
The words alone were enough to chill the mountain winds.
"Hold the formation!" Veras shouted.
He thrust his spear forward.
The tip ignited with blinding silver light, forming circles of runes around them. The younger cultivator mirrored him, and together they locked into a formation that hummed with ancient power.
For a moment… the avatar recoiled.
As if the light forced it back.
Perhaps they could suppress it—
perhaps—
CRAAAAACK!
The sky split.
A black fissure tore across the heavens, jagged and violent. Lightning made of pure shadow flickered from within, and a sound spilled out—
Not a scream.
Not a roar.
Not a laugh.
A cursed, twisted sound that seemed to echo from a place where time had died.
The avatar answered it.
And then—
it vanished.
Not dispersed.
Not killed.
It simply slipped away, as though the world itself could not hold it anymore.
The younger cultivator's face drained of color.
"E-Elder… that direction… it fled toward—"
"I know." Veras' voice was barely a whisper.
Silence settled like cold ash.
"If the prophecy is true," he said quietly, "then the child of the Soltray bloodline still walks this world."
The wind stopped. Even the mountains seemed to hold their breath.
And far, far away… someone's destiny shifted.
---
Raelor Village
Hundreds of kilometers from the chaos of Ghauriya Peaks lay a tiny village called Raelor—a place so small, most maps didn't bother marking it.
Raelor had:
no cultivation sects,
no Spirit Stones,
no ancient legacies,
no techniques.
Just farmers, shepherds, cracked mud roads, and mornings that smelled of damp soil.
Here, life followed a simple rhythm.
And in a narrow dusty lane, inside a clay-walled hut with a straw roof, a boy slowly opened his eyes.
Riven Soltray.
Fourteen years old.
Barefoot.
Quiet.
Ordinary—at least, that's how the world saw him.
But the depth in his eyes told a different story.
They held a distant, unfocused searching—as though he was trying to remember something important… something just out of reach.
He sat up abruptly, chest rising and falling.
The dream again.
The same dream that had chased him for months.
Darkness swallowing mountains.
Eyes glowing red.
A battlefield where the air itself screamed.
A voice whispering something he could never quite catch.
Riven pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Why does it feel so real…?"
His heart beat too fast, too heavy.
Dreams shouldn't leave behind fear like this. They shouldn't make the air around you feel colder.
He splashed water on his face from a clay pot.
The chill helped, but only a little.
"Just a dream…" he muttered.
But he didn't believe it.
Not fully.
He stepped outside. Morning sunlight flickered between clouds, casting golden patches on the ground. Roosters crowed. A vendor shouted about fresh vegetables. Kids ran down the lane kicking a ragged ball.
Everything was normal.
Almost disappointingly so.
Old Lady Mira waved at him while sweeping her porch.
"You woke up late today, Riven! No strange nightmares, I hope?"
Riven forced a smile. "Nothing unusual."
She chuckled. "Good. Strange dreams are a sign of a restless soul. Keep your heart calm, child."
He nodded, but inside… his heart was anything but calm.
He walked further down the lane, passing the fields where farmers bent over the soil. He heard the river's faint rush at the village's edge. The world was peaceful, quiet.
Yet something felt wrong.
A heavy pressure lingered in the air.
Too faint for mortals.
Too gentle for anyone but him to sense.
Riven paused.
"Why does it feel like something's… watching?"
The sensation vanished when he blinked, leaving only dust swirling in the morning breeze.
---
Foreshadowing
He took a step.
The instant his foot touched the ground—
A thin black crack flashed beneath the soil.
Silent.
Quick.
Wrong.
Like a scar of darkness trying to break through.
It appeared for a single heartbeat—
then vanished without a trace.
Riven froze mid-step.
His breath caught.
"…What was that?"
He waited.
Listened.
But the world offered only the rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of villagers.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing dangerous.
But his skin crawled.
He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking, trying to ignore the cold shiver down his spine.
Unseen by him, the crack sank deeper into the earth, pulsing faintly—like something alive.
Like something that had finally found its target.
A whisper drifted through the air.
Not loud enough to be heard.
Not even real enough to be called a sound.
But it existed.
"Found you…"
And somewhere far away, in a place where light had never reached, a pair of red eyes slowly opened.
---
End of Chapter 1