The first thing I remember was warmth.
A soothing ,all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around me like a soft blanket.
Even as my eyes fluttered open, the world was just a blur of lights and colour.
Shapes moved gently in the distance.
I didn't know much—I mean, What does the baby know anyway?
But—!
I knew this: everything around me felt.. safe.
The ceiling above shimmered faintly.
Gold accents caught the soft light pouring through tall, arched windows.
Curtains danced lazily in the breeze.
The air carried the faintest hint of flowers I couldn't name.
'Pretty.' I thought.
Whatever that meant.
A deep, steady voice rumbled nearby.
It was gentle.
Soothing...
I didn't understand the words, but I didn't need to.
The voice belonged to the figure cradling me.
A man with dark hair and piercing golden eyes that seemed to shine even in the softest light.
He smiled at me.
A small,warm smile that made me giggle instinctively.
"Comfortable, aren't you, Caelum?"
His voice was soft.
His words didn't make sense to me yet, but the feeling behind them did.
He was my everything.
The world could've ended outside those walls, and I wouldn't have cared.
But as he gently rocked me, his gaze flickered toward the window.
Just for a moment..
And in that same instant, every figure in the room did the same.
It was as if they all sensed it simultaneously, their movements unnervingly precise, their focus razor-sharp.
His smile didn't fade.
But there was something in his eyes.
Something heavy.
The kind of weight I didn't understand, couldn't possibly grasp, but felt all the same.
But I couldn't think about it anymore as a wave of sleepiness hit me.
My eyes started feeling heavy.
Then, just like that, I slept.
***
Magnus Ashenbane's smile lingered as he stared out the window.
The light streaming through framed him in gold, but his gaze was sharp, piercing the tranquil scene beyond.
"Looks like we have a rat."
His tone was low, cutting through the stillness like a blade.
The warmth in his expression faded.
What remained was cold and calculating.
His golden eyes hardened, their shine now like molten metal ready to burn through anything in its path.
The room felt heavier.
Even the faint breeze seemed to halt, as if bowing to his presence.
"Bold. But foolish."
His fingers tapped against the edge of the cradle, the only movement breaking his statue-like stillness.
Without looking, his voice cut through the air again.
"Handle it. Quietly."
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward.
They bowed deeply, their face hidden beneath a hood.
"Yes, my lord."
No other words were exchanged.
Magnus's gaze remained fixed on the window, unflinching.
The figure disappeared without a sound, leaving behind nothing but silence.
Magnus's hand moved to adjust the blanket around the sleeping child.
His touch was gentle, but his expression did not soften.
For a moment, he simply watched the child breathe, his face unreadable.
And then his voice, soft but resolute, broke the quiet once more.
"No one disturbs this family."
The words lingered, heavy and final, as the room fell into an unsettling calm.
***
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
The scream echoed through the dark prison cell.
Chains rattled as the prisoner writhed on the cold, bloodstained floor.
"P-please… spare me… I'm sorry…"
His voice cracked, shaking with fear, each word a desperate plea.
Blood dripped from open wounds, forming small puddles on the ground.
Drip. Drip.
The sound was the only thing breaking the heavy silence.
Edward stood at the edge of the cell, calm and composed.
His black suit was spotless, his silver hair neat, as if he didn't belong in a place like this.
In one hand, he held a stack of papers, flipping through them slowly.
Behind him, another figure waited silently, standing at attention.
"Are you sure he's part of that organization?" Edward asked, his voice calm and steady.
"Yes, Sir Edward," came the reply. "He infiltrated the manor disguised as a servant, collecting information about the estate's layout and the young master's nursery."
Edward looked up from the papers, his cold eyes scanning the trembling figure on the floor.
"Interesting." he said softly.
The prisoner froze, his bloodshot eyes wide with terror.
"P-please… I told you everything…"
Edward tilted his head slightly.
"You told me what you think I want to hear."
His words were quiet but carried a weight that made the prisoner flinch.
Drip. Drip.
The prisoner's body shook violently, his breath shallow and ragged.
Edward glanced back at the papers, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Still, daring to spy on us."
He closed the file with a quiet snap.
"The Patriarch won't be pleased."
The words were final.
Edward's companion stepped forward, their shadow looming over the prisoner.
The prisoner tried to move back, the chains dragging loudly against the floor.
"No—wait! Please! I'll do anything! I'm sorry! I'll—!"
Slash!
His cries stopped abruptly.
A single strike.
The sound of metal cutting flesh echoed briefly before silence took over.
Edward adjusted his cuffs, his expression unchanging.
Before turning to leave, his voice cut through the air, cold and merciless.
"Inform the manor. All servants will undergo a trial. If there's even a shadow of doubt about their loyalty..."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"...they are to be removed from existence."
Edward walked out of the cell, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.
"Clean this up," he said calmly.
Drip. Drip.
The cell fell silent once again.
Returning from the prison, Edward went directly to Ashenveil Manor, the seat of the Ashenbane family.
The grand hall loomed before him, its towering arches casting long shadows across the polished marble floor.
Edward stepped inside, his footsteps quiet but deliberate.
Reaching the center of the hall, he dropped to one knee, lowering his head until it nearly touched the ground.
One fist rested over his heart, his knuckles taut with reverence.
"My lord."
"Your loyal retainer humbly presents himself before the might of House Ashenbane."
He paused, inclining his head slightly in a gesture of deep respect.
"May your reign cast its shadow across all lands, for none can stand against your will."
The silence stretched for a moment, thick and heavy.
Sitting on a black throne, Magnus Ashenbane watched him.
His black hair fell in loose waves, framing piercing yellow eyes that seemed to strip away all pretense, seeing straight into a man's soul.
He wore dark armor that gleamed faintly in the dim light, the intricate designs carved into it.
Resting his head lazily against one fist, Magnus appeared almost bored.
Yet his presence was overwhelming, filling the hall like a storm waiting to break.
"Speak." Magnus commanded.
His voice was low and hoarse, carrying an edge that made the air feel colder.
Edward lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet his lord's gaze.
"My lord." he began, his tone unwavering.
"The man belonged to the Black Thorn Society, an assassin's guild operating out of the Kingdom of Veyland."
Magnus's eyes narrowed.
The faint golden glow in his irises intensified, casting an eerie light that seemed to pierce the shadows around him.
"They dare…"
His words were quiet, almost a whisper, yet they carried across the vast hall like thunder.
"To send their filth into my domain."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop further, the atmosphere growing heavier.
Edward remained still, but even he could feel the weight pressing down, as if the very air had turned against him.
Magnus leaned forward, his gaze locked onto Edward.
"Have they forgotten who we are?"
The glow in his eyes grew brighter, sharper, and the entire estate seemed to tremble.
From the furthest corners of the manor, servants stopped what they were doing, their breaths catching in their throats.
Even the walls seemed to groan under the pressure of his power.
"No." Magnus said, his voice a deadly calm.
"They haven't forgotten. They simply believe themselves untouchable."
He rose from his throne, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the kneeling Edward.
"They think they can look down on us."
The faint hum of power radiated from him, his presence now felt suffocating.
"We'll remind them."
Magnus stepped down from the throne, the sound of his boots echoing across the hall.
"Edward."
"Yes, my lord."
"Erase Veyland."
The words were spoken so casually, yet they carried the weight of an unshakable decree.
"Wipe their kingdom from the face of this world."
Edward bowed his head deeply.
"As you command, my lord."
Magnus turned his gaze back toward the throne, his eyes still glowing with unrestrained power.
"Let the ashes of their kingdom serve as a reminder."
His voice grew darker, more resolute.
"This world bends to the Ashenbane family. And those who forget that…"
The air in the hall was thick with the unspoken promise of annihilation.
Edward rose smoothly, his movements as sharp as his lord's commands.
Without another word, he exited the hall, his steps echoing into the silence.
Magnus stood alone, his piercing gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
Yet, the weight of his presence lingered, pressing down on every corner of the estate.
The storm had been unleashed.
And the world would soon feel its wrath.
***
Edward hovered above the kingdom, calm as chaos loomed below.
With a flick of his wrist, the air seemed to shatter, sending invisible ripples that pressed against the land.
The sky above Veyland darkened, as if the heavens themselves recoiled in fear.
Rumble!!
The ground beneath the capital city began to quake, low vibrations that quickly escalated into violent tremors.
Craaaaack!!
Edward extended a single finger, tracing a line in the air.
A rift appeared, glowing with golden light.
From it came a wave of power, tearing through the land and consuming everything in its path.
Buildings crumbled into dust.
Forests withered and burned.
And the people…
They vanished, their screams cut short as the light swept them away.
The earth split open where the capital once stood, leaving behind a massive void—a scar upon the world.
When it was done, silence fell.
The golden rift sealed itself, leaving no trace of what had occurred except the yawning chasm where a kingdom had once thrived.
Edward remained motionless in the air, his gaze fixed on the devastation below.
He brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve and said,
"It is done."
And then, without a sound, he disappeared, the faint shimmer of his teleportation the only trace he had ever been there.
News of Veyland's annihilation spread like wildfire.
No one could believe it.
An entire kingdom, erased in an instant.
It wasn't war.
It wasn't rebellion.
It was obliteration.
From rulers in grand halls to hidden factions in the shadows, the message was undeniable:
The Ashenbane family had acted.
And their wrath was absolute.
Leaders retreated behind closed doors.
Councils convened in fear.
Ambitions crumbled.
The crater was a graveyard of silence, its oppressive aura etching the memory of Veyland's fall into the land
Even the skies mourned, gray and unyielding for days.
One name was whispered everywhere.
—Ashenbane.
They weren't just rulers in the shadows.
They were gods among men.
And gods do not forgive.