Chapter One: The Cage's Grip
The land of Oseris was a nightmare stitched together from twisted landscapes and broken hopes. It was a place where the sky was always the color of blood, and the land below was barren, scarred, and suffocating with the weight of old gods' games. The wind carried the scent of decay—rotten wood, stagnant water, and the ever-present stench of fear. No one who came here ever left the same.
Kyprosa didn't care. Not today, anyway. Her pale, silver hair fluttered in the wind as she trudged ahead, her boots sinking slightly into the mucky ground. The land was cursed, and she could feel it creeping into her bones, but the desperation for freedom kept her moving. That, and the pull of the Rift.
She was a half-blood devil, a strange combination of infernal and mortal, marked by power she couldn't even access, thanks to the Cage. Her abilities, her magic, her potential—all dormant, held back by unseen forces. And yet, she still moved forward, her heart still burning with purpose.
Behind her, Razen trailed like a shadow. He was all brooding silence, dark energy wrapped around him like a cloak. His long black hair hung to his ankles, his demon skull helmet obscuring the ethereal beauty beneath. Twin swords rested at his left hip, their hilts gleaming with the promise of violence. He was a full-blooded devil, an ex-general of wrath, and he'd been trapped in the Cage longer than anyone could remember. The only difference between him and the others was that his power was still potent enough to tear the world apart if unleashed. But for now, that power was dormant, just like the rest of them.
"Do you really think this Rift exists?" Razen's voice cut through the silence, low and filled with suspicion.
Kyprosa didn't glance back. "I don't know," she said simply. "But if it does, it's the only way out."
He scoffed. "A rumor. That's all this is. A rumor."
"It's better than nothing." She didn't sound convinced, but her tone was firm.
The back of their group was anything but gloomy. Sarajin and Bunzer were too busy squabbling to notice the heaviness of their surroundings. Sarajin, in her ever-changing form, was currently an elegant elf woman, her pointed ears twitching with every movement. She had the grace of a dancer, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness as she turned to Bunzer.
"You're on lookout, right?" she asked with a smirk.
Bunzer didn't look up from sharpening one of his daggers. His blonde hair, a mess of curls, bounced with every movement, and his floppy bunny ears twitched as if they had a life of their own. His face, almost unnaturally handsome, looked out of place here. "Looking. Looking out for... well, anything interesting."
Sarajin rolled her eyes. "I feel so much safer now."
"Good." Bunzer grinned, leaning over to flick mud onto her boots.
"Stop messing around," Kyprosa muttered, although the edge in her voice was gone. If anything, her companions were a reminder of the things that kept her going—hope, humor, and survival. They were her family now, even if it was a dysfunctional one.
Their journey through the Blighted Lands was slow and torturous. The land was a desolate place, filled with dark, twisted creatures—blight spawn, some called them. Creatures warped by the curse of the gods, their bodies growing from the land like an infection. They were like shadows with form, hunting and killing anything they could. And the occasional hunter, human or not, found their way into the same hellish landscape, becoming twisted by the Blight.
Kyprosa was the first to spot the movement. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. "We're not alone," she whispered.
Razen's hands went to the hilts of his twin swords, his posture tense, ready. "How many?"
"Hard to say. Too many to count," she said, her voice steady despite the growing dread.
As if on cue, the first of the Blight spawns appeared—its body a grotesque mass of twisted limbs, eyes glowing with an unholy light. It screeched, a horrible, gurgling sound that was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
"We're getting better at this, huh?" Sarajin called out with a grin, not even breaking a sweat as she knocked an arrow into her bow, her gaze sharp and focused.
Bunzer laughed, twirling his daggers in his hands. "Oh, yeah. Real professionals here."
The Blight spawn lunged. Kyprosa's hand flicked out, her latent magic pushing back the creature just enough for Razen to move in. His twin swords came down like lightning, slicing through the spawn's limbs in quick, precise movements.
Bunzer darted around the creature, landing a sharp blow to its underbelly with one of his daggers, the creature shrieking in pain before falling to the ground, dead.
"Nice," Sarajin said, lowering her bow and looking around. "But that's just the first wave."
Razen looked around, his eyes narrowing. "We don't get many moments of peace in this place."
"That's an understatement," Kyprosa muttered. Her mind raced, thoughts shifting to the Rift again. If they could get to it, it would be the only way to escape the land of Oseris, to find a way out of the Cage. But if the Rift didn't exist, if it was just another myth, they would have to figure something else out. And quickly.
The Blight spawn weren't the only threat here. Every step they took, they had to watch for the signs of the Blight creeping further into the land. It wasn't just the creatures—sometimes, the land itself seemed to turn against them. The ground would shift, or something would rise up from beneath the earth. And that wasn't counting the hunters.
Razen sighed, the weight of everything they were facing settling in. "So we keep moving forward, huh?"
"Yep," Kyprosa answered. "We don't stop. Not yet."
They moved on. The sounds of the land—twisted howls, the distant rumble of something massive shifting beneath them—followed them, but they kept walking, knowing that they had no choice. They had to keep moving, keep fighting, and maybe—just maybe—find the way out of the Cage.
For now, it was all they had.