The world was fractured, its beauty tempered by an ancient curse that hung like an invisible veil over the lands. From the icy peaks of the Everfrost Highlands to the molten plains of the Ember Wastes, humanity had learned to coexist with the beasts—creatures of raw power and primal instinct. Yet, no one tamed them. To tame a beast was to challenge the balance of existence, a blasphemy against the gods themselves.
But balance was an illusion.
---
The Arena of Vyren
The sound of clashing steel and roaring flames reverberated across the towering walls of the arena. Thousands of voices blended into a deafening cacophony, each one screaming for blood or glory. In the center of the pit, a boy stood alone. His figure was unremarkable—tall but lean, with dark hair matted by sweat and dirt. His weapon, a chipped blade, gleamed weakly under the dying light of the twin suns.
"Is this your champion, Vyren?" boomed a voice, dripping with mockery.
The speaker was a colossus of a man draped in blood-red armor, his face hidden behind a grotesque helm shaped like a beast's maw. He stood on a platform above the pit, surrounded by nobles who sipped golden wine from crystal goblets. At his feet lay a chained beast, its eyes glowing a predatory crimson.
The boy ignored the jeers and tightened his grip on the blade. He wasn't here to fight for glory. He wasn't even here to survive.
---
Three Days Earlier
In the shadowed alleys of the lower district, Kael Teyren lived a life of quiet anonymity. Orphaned at birth, raised by beggars and thieves, he had long accepted the cold indifference of the world. That was, until the letter arrived.
The parchment was old, its edges frayed as if it had traveled across centuries. The wax seal bore a sigil Kael didn't recognize—a serpent coiled around a shattered star.
"Kael Teyren," the letter began, "you have been chosen."
The words burned into his mind as he read them. The letter spoke of a power locked within him, one tied to the beasts that roamed the wildlands beyond the city walls. It promised answers about his lineage, his purpose, and his destiny.
But it came with a price: to claim his destiny, he must tame a beast of his own.
---
Back in the Arena
Kael stood face-to-face with his trial—a creature known as a Skornfang, a hulking beast with scales black as obsidian and fangs that dripped with venom. It circled him, its movements deliberate and calculated, its eyes gleaming with intelligence far beyond any animal.
The crowd roared, but their noise was distant, muted. Kael's heartbeat drowned out everything else.
Focus.
The voice wasn't his own. It was deep, resonant, and impossibly ancient.
Kael staggered, his vision blurring as the world around him seemed to slow. The Skornfang lunged, its claws tearing through the air like daggers, but Kael moved. He didn't think, didn't plan—his body reacted as if guided by an unseen force. He sidestepped the attack and drove his blade into the beast's flank.
The weapon shattered on impact.
The Skornfang roared, its pain turning to fury. It swiped at Kael, and he barely managed to dodge. His body screamed for rest, but something within him burned brighter, louder.
Do not fear the beast. Become the beast.
The words echoed through his mind as a searing heat engulfed his chest. He fell to his knees, clutching at his heart, and for a moment, the world disappeared.
When he opened his eyes, the arena was silent. The Skornfang lay motionless, its massive form dwarfed by a shadow that shouldn't exist.
Kael stood, but he wasn't the same. His eyes burned with the same crimson glow as the beast's, his hands crackling with energy that pulsed like a heartbeat. The crowd stared in stunned silence as Kael reached out and placed his hand on the Skornfang's head.
It bowed.
And the world shifted.
---
Far Beyond the City
In a darkened temple at the edge of the world, a figure clad in robes of shifting starlight knelt before an altar. Candles flickered, their flames dancing unnaturally.
"It has begun," the figure whispered, their voice trembling with a mixture of fear and reverence.
The altar pulsed with a blinding light, and a voice older than time itself responded:
"The beast is tamed. Let the games begin.''