The walls of Umbraxia, once towering symbols of the kingdom's strength, had fallen. The air was thick with the scent of fire and blood, a heavy cloud of despair hanging over the ruins. Inside the grand palace, a different kind of battle had just been won—a quiet, treacherous coup led by the monstrous Aethryn.
They weren't just one breed of creature; they were a collective of beasts, each with its own unique form and powers. From the jagged-skinned Brutus, who moved like silent shadows, to the Feyloth, who could bend light to disappear entirely, the Aethryn were as diverse as they were deadly. Yet, even among them, dragons ruled supreme. Their raw power and ancient might had held the kingdom at bay for centuries, and now, with the death of Selen—the last great dragon—the kingdom had no protector.
In the aftermath of the coup, silence draped the royal palace like a funeral shroud.
In the depths of the palace, the king's body lay cold, a lifeless form in the middle of the throne room. Blood pooled around him, shimmering in the faint torchlight. His eyes, once so full of life and strength, stared blankly into the void. The crown, a symbol of Umbraxia's centuries-old legacy, lay discarded beside him, lost in the chaos.
The coup had come like a serpent in the night, and by the time the court knew what was happening, it was too late. The Aethryn had already overrun the palace.
Among them strode the dragon Sereth—taller, stronger, his body cloaked in obsidian scales that glimmered with an ancient magic. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though every step he took was laced with the weight of inevitability. Behind him, other Aethryn surged forward—each with strange, twisted bodies. Some had long, spindly arms like that of nightmarish insects; others had glistening, slimy skin, their forms blending grotesquely between human and beast. There was no unity in appearance, only the shared hunger in their eyes.
The court had been a bed of scheming and plotting for months, but none had expected the full force of the Aethryn to descend like this. Some nobles tried to fight, but their efforts were meaningless against the monsters that now ruled their land.
Yet, there was one who fought not for power but for survival: the queen.
Deep in the dungeon, far beneath the grand halls of Umbraxia, the queen labored alone. She could hear the sounds of her kingdom falling—screams that seemed to echo off the very walls that imprisoned her. Her wrists were chained, heavy iron shackles cutting into her skin, a mockery of the once-gilded life she had led as the ruler of this land.
Her breath came in short, painful gasps as the contractions grew more intense. She could feel the life inside her struggling to emerge, and amidst the chaos, she found the strength to push.
There were no midwives, no soft linen blankets to welcome the newborn into the world. Only cold, damp stone and the dying light of torches flickering against the dungeon's walls.
The child—a girl—was born amidst the blood and rubble of the kingdom's fall. Her cry was strong, and even as the queen held her close to her chest, she felt a glimmer of hope. The child was the last of the royal bloodline, the one they would call Sana, the heir to the throne of a fallen empire.
The queen, though weak and exhausted, felt a fierce protectiveness surge within her. Sana was more than just her daughter; she was Umbraxia's last hope. But the queen could do nothing but hold her child close as the guards dragged her back to the cell, locking her away once more. The queen's gaze lingered on the door, knowing that it would be the last time she ever saw the world beyond these stone walls.
Above ground, the palace had become a shadow of itself, a haunted shell ruled by the Aethryn. The creatures had taken over the halls, their inhuman forms weaving through the corridors, but their eyes all turned to one place—the dungeons. It was there that Princess Sana, the last remnant of the royal family, was kept.
Sana, though only a newborn, had become their most coveted possession. The Aethryn, particularly the dragons, longed to consume her royal blood, believing it would free them from their bond to the human realm and elevate their powers beyond imagination. But there was a curse: if the last of the royal bloodline died, the Aethryn would perish as well.
So, they kept her alive—caged and guarded by human slaves too broken to rebel. The Aethryn themselves could not enter her chamber, lest they be tempted to destroy what kept them alive. But the creatures did not stay far. Their presence was constant, lingering like a dark fog around her prison, their grotesque forms casting monstrous shadows along the walls as they watched and waited.
Sana's chains rattled each time she moved, a constant reminder of her captivity. Her clothes, once royal silks, were now tattered rags, and her skin was pale from the years spent underground. She had never seen the sky, never felt the sun on her face. But her eyes—those brilliant blue eyes that carried the weight of her lineage—burned with quiet rebellion.
Beyond the palace, the kingdom of Umbraxia had crumbled into chaos. The humans lived in fear, no longer protected by the ancient walls that had once kept the monsters at bay. The Aethryn roamed freely, some taking pleasure in tormenting the human populations, while others simply watched from the shadows.
Yet, it was not the dragons that haunted the streets. The lower ranks of the Aethryn had claimed the land. The Brutus, hulking creatures with twisted, sinewy muscles, patrolled the ruined villages. Their eyes glowed an eerie green, and their jagged teeth dripped with the blood of those who dared to oppose them. The Feyloth, with their ghostly pale skin and transparent wings, hovered just out of sight, their laughter echoing through the night as they played games of terror with the surviving humans.
The lines between humanity and monsters had been drawn, and no one dared cross them.
Far from the palace, beyond the lands of Umbraxia, Selen's lover—a woman of quiet strength—gave birth to their son. She had once been a simple woman, untouched by the court's politics, but her love for Selen had changed her world. She had seen him as no one else had: not as the great dragon, the strongest of the Aethryn, but as a man of honor and kindness. And now he was gone, executed before the boy could even know him.
The birth was painful, the aftermath worse. She could barely move as she cradled her newborn son, her body trembling from exhaustion and grief. The child had the soft features of a human, but his eyes—deep and endless—held something more. His hair, as dark as night, shimmered faintly in the light, and there was a sharpness to his features that hinted at the dragon within him.
He was a blend of both worlds, but neither human nor fully dragon in appearance. Even in his innocence, there was a quiet, unspoken power about him.
But there was no time to rest. Hours after giving birth, she wrapped him in blankets and fled. The Aethryn would come for her if they knew about the child. She had to disappear, far beyond the reach of their monstrous rule.
***************The Fall and Time Skip*********************************
Fifteen years passed, and Umbraxia was no more than a memory. The once-great kingdom had become a wasteland ruled by monsters. The Aethryn controlled the remnants of humanity, and dragons still held their power over all the other creatures.
Sana had grown in captivity, kept alive only because of the curse that tied the Aethryn's fate to her own. She had been told her entire life that her blood was the key to everything, but she felt more like a prisoner than a princess. Though they longed to devour her, they knew that to do so would spell their own end. And so, she remained their prisoner, guarded not by them, but by human slaves—men and women too afraid to defy their monstrous masters.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness outside the kingdom's reach, the nameless son of Selen roamed the land. He wore long, hooded cloaks to conceal his identity, moving through the desolate landscape with a quiet grace. He had never known his father, and the ones responsible for his death had perished long ago. There was no purpose to his wandering, no direction. He simply survived, blending into the shadows, a figure of mystery and silent strength.
The world had forgotten him, just as it had forgotten the princess trapped within the palace walls.
The introduction of these characters through actions, hidden traits, and their environments allows for a natural build-up, revealing their identities without direct exposition. Their paths remain intertwined with the fate of Umbraxia, and as time moves forward, the tension builds toward the inevitable clash between monsters and royal blood.