The darkness receded like a tide.
Nolan found himself on his hands and knees, gasping for air, his entire body trembling. The clearing around him was destroyed—trees splintered and torn, the ground scorched in a wide circle radiating outward from where he knelt. The massive oak he'd been leaning against earlier had been split clean in half, both sections toppled and smoldering.
And in the center of it all, him.
The blue energy had faded, leaving only faint wisps that curled around his fingers like smoke before dissipating entirely. His body ached—not from injury, but from exertion. Like he'd run for miles without stopping. Every muscle felt wrung out, hollowed.
But the voice in his head had gone silent.
"What... what just happened?" Nolan's voice came out hoarse, barely recognizable.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying dangerously. The world tilted and spun before settling. He looked down at his hands—normal now, calloused and dirty, no trace of the terrifying power that had erupted from them moments ago. Had he imagined it? Some kind of fever dream?
Then he saw the wolf's corpse.
It lay fifteen feet away, its neck bent at an unnatural angle, fur singed and smoking. Very real. Very dead. And he had killed it.
No. Not you. Not entirely. We killed it together.
Nolan's blood froze. The voice was back—quieter now, almost conversational. It no longer overwhelmed his thoughts, but it was there, a presence curled up in the back of his mind like a sleeping serpent.
"Get out of my head," Nolan whispered.
I cannot. We are bound together, boy. Two halves of a whole, sealed within the same vessel. You carry half of my heart—literally. Your father saw to that twenty years ago.
"My father? What are you talking about?"
Questions, always questions. But you have no time for answers. Look around you, child. What do you see?
Nolan forced himself to focus. The clearing. The destruction. The dead mana beast. And then he noticed something he'd missed in his panic—claw marks on several trees. Fresh ones. Leading away to the east.
Leading toward Lintbloom.
Toward home.
His stomach dropped.
"No..." He broke into a run, abandoning his axe, his gathered wood, everything. "No, no, no—"
Yes. The wolf was not alone. It was a scout—the first of many. They've been searching for me for years. Decades. And now they know where to find us.
"Shut up! Just shut UP!" But even as Nolan ran, crashing through the undergrowth with reckless abandon, he knew the voice was right. The wolf had mentioned a master. A High Priest. Someone who'd sent it hunting.
And if there had been one wolf, there could be more.
His lungs burned. Branches whipped at his face, drawing blood. He didn't care. He ran faster, pushing his exhausted body beyond its limits. The forest blurred around him—had he always been this fast? Or was that the power still lingering in his system, enhancing his movements?
You begin to understand. The seal your father placed on you was never perfect. It could only contain me for so long. All that power, all that potential, locked away behind a weakening barrier. Every year it grew thinner. Every year I grew stronger. Today, when you faced death, your survival instinct shattered what remained.
"I don't care about any of that! My family—"
Is likely already dead.
The words hit him like a physical blow. Nolan stumbled, nearly falling, but forced himself onward. "No. No, they're fine. They have to be fine. Bryce has his fire magic, Pa knows how to fight, they'll—"
Your brother is a boy with parlor tricks. Your father is a cripple. Against what's coming for them, they are lambs before wolves.
"SHUT UP!"
But he could see the edge of the forest now, the clearing where his home sat. Smoke rose in the distance—thick, black smoke that spoke of more than just a cooking fire.
Nolan burst from the tree line and immediately wished he hadn't.
The house was burning.
Not the slow burn of an accidental fire, but a raging inferno that consumed the entire structure. Flames licked at the sky, orange and red and hungry. The barn had already collapsed into smoking rubble. And scattered across the clearing...
Bodies.
Nolan's legs gave out. He fell to his knees, unable to process what he was seeing.
Three figures lay motionless in the dirt. From this distance he couldn't make out details, couldn't see their faces, but he recognized the shapes. The way they'd fallen.
His family.
"No..." The word came out as a broken whisper. "No, please, no—"
Movement at the edge of the clearing caught his eye.
A figure emerged from behind the burning house—tall, lean, with fur covering most of its body. But it walked upright like a man, and when it turned to look in Nolan's direction, he saw a face that was an unsettling mix of wolf and human. Yellow eyes gleamed with intelligence. With malice.
More figures emerged behind it. Four. Five. Six. All of them the same—mana beasts that had evolved beyond their animal forms, achieving a grotesque parody of humanity.
Werewolves. That's what the old stories called them. Nolan had thought they were just legends.
The lead creature smiled, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. When it spoke, its voice was clear and cultured—almost civilized, which somehow made it worse.
"Well, well. The prodigal son returns." It tilted its head, studying Nolan with open curiosity. "You're late, boy. We've been waiting for you. Your father was most... insistent that we do so before we finished our work."
Nolan's throat closed up. He tried to speak, couldn't, tried again. "My... my family..."
"Dead. Well, mostly." The werewolf gestured casually toward the bodies. "Your mother died quickly—she fought bravely, tried to protect the younger two. Your sister lasted a bit longer. Screamed quite a lot. Your brother tried to burn us." It laughed, a sound like grinding glass. "Fire. Against creatures of darkness. The boy was an idiot."
White-hot rage exploded in Nolan's chest. He surged to his feet, hands clenching into fists. "I'll KILL YOU!"
"Yes, yes, the righteous fury. How predictable." The werewolf yawned, showing every one of its fangs. "But before you do something suicidally stupid, you should know—your father is still alive. Barely. We saved him for you."
Nolan's rage faltered. "What?"
The werewolf stepped aside, and two more of the creatures dragged a figure forward.
Rufus Thorne looked like he'd been through hell. His clothes were torn and bloody, his face a mass of bruises. But his eyes—his eyes were still conscious, still aware. And when they found Nolan across the clearing, they filled with tears.
"Nolan..." His father's voice was barely audible. "Run... please... just run..."
The lead werewolf grabbed Rufus by the hair, jerking his head back. "Now then. Let's discuss terms. You have something my master wants. Something your dear father sealed inside you twenty years ago." Its claws extended, pressing against Rufus's throat. "Give it to us, and we'll make his death quick. Refuse, and we'll take our time. Days, perhaps. We're very creative."
Nolan's hands were shaking. The rage was still there, burning in his gut, but so was fear. Paralyzing, overwhelming fear. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have anything—"
"Liar!" The werewolf's voice cracked like a whip. "We felt it awaken. The seal breaking. The Dark Lord's power stirring after two decades of silence." It leaned closer to Rufus, inhaling deeply. "And this one reeks of the ritual that bound it. He's the one who sealed you. Who crippled the great Diablo and condemned him to this... half-existence."
Diablo. The name sent chills down Nolan's spine. He'd heard it in stories—bedtime tales meant to frighten children. The Dark Lord who'd nearly destroyed Eldoria centuries ago. The monster who'd been sealed away by the combined might of the Thaelori and the greatest mages of the age.
But those were just stories. Legends. They couldn't be real.
Oh, but they are. The voice in his head was almost amused. I am Diablo. Or rather, I am half of him. The other half remains sealed in the void, waiting. And these fools believe they can free me by ripping my heart from your chest and reassembling it.
"They can do that?" Nolan thought desperately.
Perhaps. Perhaps not. But they'll certainly kill you trying.
The lead werewolf's patience was wearing thin. "Enough stalling. Strip off your shirt. Let me see the seal."
"Run, Nolan!" Rufus's shout was raw with desperation. "Don't let them—"
The werewolf backhanded him casually, and Nolan's father crumpled. Not dead—his chest still rose and fell—but unconscious.
"Your father is brave. Stupid, but brave." The creature's yellow eyes fixed on Nolan. "You, however, have a choice. Cooperate, and he dies without further pain. Resist..." It smiled. "Well. You've seen what we can do."
Nolan stood frozen, his mind racing. He had no training. No control over whatever power had awakened inside him. Against one wolf, with adrenaline and instinct driving him, he'd barely survived. Against seven? Impossible.
But if he surrendered, they'd kill him anyway. Rip open his chest, steal the artifact, and probably torture his father just for fun.
There was no good option.
Then choose the option where you survive. The voice was cold, calculating. Let me out. Fully. Completely. Give yourself over to my power, and I will paint this clearing with their blood.
"And then what? You take over my body? Use me like a puppet?"
Eventually. But not today. Today, we have a common enemy. Let me destroy them. Then we can discuss the terms of our... partnership.
"That's not a partnership. That's slavery."
And death is preferable? Very well. Die here. Let them tear your heart from your chest. I'll simply find another host in time. But your father will suffer. Your family's deaths will be meaningless. And the ones who did this will walk away laughing.
Nolan's hands clenched into fists. The werewolves were advancing now, spreading out to surround him. The lead one had drawn a wicked-looking knife, its blade etched with glowing runes.
"Last chance, boy," it called. "Submit, or we take what we want by force."
Nolan closed his eyes.
Saw his mother's smile. His sister's laugh. His brother's grin. His father's guilty, loving expression as he'd watched him leave that morning.
One more day of peace, he'd said.
They'd known. Somehow, they'd known this was coming. And they'd let him go anyway, trying to give him one last happy memory before everything fell apart.
Nolan opened his eyes.
"Alright," he said quietly, to the voice that lived in his chest. "But we do this together. You don't take over. We share the power. Equally."
Interesting. You have more spine than I expected. Very well. A partnership it is. For now.
Heat bloomed in Nolan's chest.
This time, when the blue energy erupted from his body, he was ready for it. He didn't fight it, didn't panic. He embraced it, letting the power flow through him like water through a broken dam.
The werewolves stumbled back, shielding their eyes from the brilliant light.
"Impossible," the lead one hissed. "The seal should have held for years yet. How did you—"
Nolan didn't answer.
He moved.
One moment he was standing twenty feet away. The next, he was in the center of their formation, his fist crackling with blue energy. The nearest werewolf didn't even have time to scream before Nolan's punch took it in the chest, the impact sending it flying backward like a rag doll.
The others reacted with supernatural speed, slashing with claws and snapping with fangs. But Nolan was faster. The power flowing through him enhanced everything—his reflexes, his strength, his speed. He ducked under one claw swipe, spun away from another, and lashed out with a kick that shattered bone.
"Kill him!" the leader roared. "Don't let him—"
Nolan's hand closed around its throat, lifting the creature off the ground. For a moment, their eyes met. The werewolf's yellow gaze was wide with shock and, for the first time, fear.
"You killed my family," Nolan said, his voice layered with that strange harmonic quality. "You burned my home. You—"
The energy around him shifted again, darkening.
Yes, Diablo's voice whispered. Feed the rage. Let the darkness in. Show them what true power looks like.
"No," Nolan gritted out. But it was getting harder to think. Harder to hold onto himself. The darkness was so seductive. So easy. It promised strength, revenge, an end to the pain tearing his heart apart.
The werewolf leader choked, struggling. "You... can't... control it..."
"Watch me."
Nolan hurled the creature away, sending it crashing into two of its companions. Then he raised his hands, and blue energy erupted outward in a wave, catching all six remaining werewolves in its blast radius.
They went down screaming.
When the light faded, the clearing was silent except for the crackling of flames. The werewolves lay scattered across the ground—not dead, but broken, barely moving.
Nolan stood in the center of the destruction, his chest heaving. The blue energy flickered and died, leaving him suddenly exhausted, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body.
But he was alive.
And so was his father.
Nolan stumbled toward where Rufus lay, dropping to his knees beside the unconscious man. "Pa? Pa, wake up. Please wake up."
Rufus's eyes fluttered open. They focused on Nolan with difficulty, and for a moment, confusion crossed his battered face. Then recognition. Then horror.
"Your eyes," he whispered. "They're... blue. Glowing blue."
Nolan's hands flew to his face. He couldn't see his own eyes, but he could feel the power still thrumming beneath his skin, refusing to fully dissipate. "Pa, I don't understand what's happening. The wolf, the power, these things said you sealed something inside me—"
"I did." Rufus's voice was barely audible, each word clearly causing him pain. "I'm sorry, Nolan. I'm so sorry. I thought... I thought I could give you a normal life. Thought the seal would hold until..." He coughed, blood flecking his lips. "I was wrong."
"Don't talk. Save your strength. I'll get help—"
"No help." Rufus grabbed Nolan's wrist with surprising strength. "Listen. Listen carefully. This is important." His eyes were urgent, feverish. "Your grandfather. Kaelen. He's alive."
"Grandfather?" Nolan had never known his grandfather. Rufus had always said he died before Nolan was born.
"I lied. He's been in hiding. In the capital—Eldoria. You have to find him." Rufus fumbled at his neck, pulling free a small pendant Nolan had never seen before. "Give him this. Tell him... tell him the seal broke. He'll understand. He'll know what to do."
"Pa, you're not making sense—"
"The artifact inside you is only HALF!" Rufus's voice cracked with desperation. "Your grandfather has the other half. Together, they're too dangerous. They'll come for you, Nolan. The cult. The Dark Lord's followers. They'll never stop hunting you." His grip tightened painfully. "Find Kaelen. Learn to control the power. Or it will consume you. Just like it consumed—"
He never finished the sentence.
Rufus Thorne's eyes glazed over, his hand falling limp, still clutching the pendant.
Dead.
"No. No, no, no—" Nolan grabbed his father's shoulders, shaking him. "Pa, wake up! You can't— You have to tell me what to do! I don't understand! PA!"
But there was no response. No breath. No heartbeat.
He was alone.
Nolan knelt there in the dirt, cradling his father's body, and something inside him broke. Not the seal—that was already shattered. Something deeper. Something human.
The blue energy erupted again, wild and uncontrolled. It swirled around him like a storm, crackling with barely-contained rage and grief. The ground beneath him cracked. The air itself seemed to warp.
Let it out, Diablo whispered. Let the pain fuel you. Let the darkness take hold. It's so much easier than fighting.
"Shut up," Nolan sobbed. "Just shut up."
You can't bring them back. No power in this world can undo death. But you can make those responsible PAY. The cult that sent these beasts. The High Priest who gave the order. Even the Thaelori who sealed me away in the first place—they're responsible too. All of them. We can make them SUFFER.
"I said SHUT UP!"
Nolan's scream tore through the clearing, and the blue energy exploded outward in a final, desperate pulse. It washed over everything—the burning house, the fallen werewolves, the bodies of his family.
And then, finally, it faded.
Nolan collapsed beside his father, his body completely spent. The rage drained away, leaving only a hollow, aching emptiness. He stared at the pendant still clutched in Rufus's lifeless hand—a simple thing, silver, etched with symbols he didn't recognize.
Find his grandfather. Learn to control the power. Don't let it consume him.
Those were his father's last words. His final request.
Nolan pried the pendant from his father's fingers, closing his hand around the cool metal. It was all he had left now. This, and a voice in his head that wanted to use him to destroy the world.
"I won't become you," he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was talking to Diablo or to himself. "I won't let the darkness win."
We'll see.
A groan from across the clearing made Nolan's head snap up. One of the werewolves—the leader—was trying to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood behind it.
For a moment, Nolan considered letting it go.
Then he thought of his mother's smile. His sister's laugh. His brother's grin.
His father's final, desperate plea.
Nolan stood slowly, every muscle screaming in protest. He walked across the clearing, each step deliberate. The werewolf sensed him coming and tried to move faster, whimpering.
"Please..." it gasped. "Mercy..."
Nolan knelt beside it. His voice, when he spoke, was utterly cold. Utterly empty.
"You showed my family no mercy." He grabbed the creature by its fur, forcing it to look at him. "But I'm not like you. I won't torture you. I won't make you suffer."
The werewolf's eyes widened with desperate hope.
"I'll just make sure you can't follow me."
Blue energy flickered around Nolan's hand—not the wild, overwhelming power from before, but something controlled. Focused. He pressed his palm against the creature's head, and the werewolf's eyes rolled back as unconsciousness took it.
When it woke up—if it woke up—it would remember nothing of the last few hours. No location. No faces. Just... emptiness.
It was more mercy than the thing deserved.
Nolan stood, swaying dangerously. He looked at the burning ruins of his home. At the bodies of his family, barely visible through the smoke. He wanted to bury them. Wanted to say goodbye properly.
But he could already hear sounds in the distance—voices, shouts, the barking of dogs. The elven village was coming to investigate the fire and the noise. If they found him here, covered in blood, surrounded by dead werewolves...
They'd have questions he couldn't answer.
Run, his father's voice echoed in his memory. Find Kaelen. Learn to control it.
Nolan took one last look at everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever loved.
Then he turned and ran into the forest, clutching his father's pendant, the voice of a dark god whispering in his head.
Behind him, smoke rose into the sky like a funeral pyre.
And somewhere far away, in a dark temple lit by eternal flames, a hooded figure smiled.
"The seal is broken," the High Priest whispered to his assembled followers. "The Dark Lord stirs. Soon, very soon, our master will return to us. And this world will burn."