The Valley of Kings
The towering trees of the Valley of Kings bent to the howling wind, their skeletal branches clawing at the crimson-streaked sky. The air carried the acrid stench of burning wood and the metallic tang of blood. Fires raged in the distance, devouring the once-proud Naaldlooshi Castle. Amid the ruin, anguished cries of the dying guards reverberated through the steep cliffs, a symphony of despair.
Morgan Naaldlooshi stood alone against the tide of destruction. His body trembled with exhaustion, blood from countless wounds staining the shattered armor that clung to his frame. His sword, though chipped and dulled, reflected the flickering light of the flames. He glanced back—just once—at the woman who was his world.
Adith Svey knelt on the scorched ground, her arms wrapped protectively around their infant daughter, Taylor. Tears streamed silently down her pale face as she whispered a lullaby to soothe the child's cries, her voice trembling like the flames around her.
"Keep her safe," Morgan whispered to her before turning to face the advancing shadow.
From the smoke and ruin, the Demon King, Arthur, emerged. His crimson eyes burned like twin suns of malice, and his voice, a low growl, carried an unspoken promise of annihilation.
"Your bloodline ends tonight," Arthur declared, each word a death knell.
Morgan's response was a primal roar, a defiance forged from love and despair. He charged with every ounce of strength he had left. His sword met Arthur's, sparks flying in a desperate clash. But Arthur was an unstoppable force. With a single, crushing blow, Morgan fell to his knees, his vision swimming as life ebbed from his battered body.
Adith let out a choked sob, cradling Taylor closer as Arthur loomed over them. The Demon King raised his blade, its edge gleaming with cruel intent. But before the final strike fell, a bone-chilling frost swept through the battlefield.
Three figures emerged from the chaos.
Ethan Sylvester strode forward, his silver hair shimmering under the eerie glow of his icy aura. His frosted sword gleamed as he struck down the advancing demons, each blow freezing them into grotesque statues. To his left, Liam Theodore—silent and feral—moved like a shadow, his claws tearing through their enemies with lethal precision. And at their flank, Alexander Thaddeus moved with lightning speed, his smirk as sharp as the dagger he drove into a demon's throat.
For a moment, hope flickered amidst the carnage. But Arthur's power dwarfed even their combined strength. With a cruel smile, he unleashed his fury, forcing the trio back.
Anastasia, the Naaldlooshi family's loyal caretaker, seized her chance. Clutching the crying infant to her chest, she whispered, "Hush, my love. We must go." Her voice broke as she glanced at Adith, whose eyes were filled with silent pleas. Anastasia hesitated, then turned and ran into the shadows, tears streaming down her face.
Adith's final scream was swallowed by the night as Arthur's blade descended.