The air was thick with ash and the stench of decay, clinging to Kael Draven's skin like a second layer. Beneath the towering ruins of what was once a grand cathedral, he crouched low, his tattered cloak blending into the crumbling stone. His sharp, gray eyes darted across the desolate streets of Vorthas, scanning for movement.
It had been years since the city had fallen, its grand spires reduced to rubble and its streets overrun with death. Yet, even now, the remnants of its former glory whispered through the ruins. Broken stained glass littered the ground, catching the faint light of a dying sun, while shattered statues of long-forgotten gods lay half-buried in the dirt.
Kael tightened his grip on the rusted dagger in his hand. The blade was pitted and dull, a scavenger's tool rather than a weapon, but it was all he had.
"Keep moving, Kael," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the distant howls of the wind—or was it something else? "Just one more haul. One more."
He adjusted the strap of the satchel slung over his shoulder, its weight far too light for comfort. The last few days had been a string of failures. Broken trinkets, rotted food, scraps of fabric that weren't even worth bartering. He could already imagine the look on Lira's face when he returned empty-handed.
Her voice echoed in his mind, soft but tinged with worry. "You don't have to go out there, Kael. We'll manage. We always do."
But they wouldn't manage. Not this time. The gangs in the slums had grown bolder, demanding higher payments for "protection." And Lira, with her frail body and kind heart, was no match for their cruelty.
"I won't let them touch her," Kael thought fiercely, his jaw tightening. "Not while I'm still breathing."
The sound of his boots crunching on shattered glass broke the eerie silence. He froze, his eyes darting to the shadows. For a moment, all was still. No growls, no whispers, no flicker of movement.
He exhaled slowly and continued forward, his gaze fixed on a broken market stall leaning precariously against the remains of a stone wall. Beneath it, something glinted—a faint shimmer of silver.
Kael's heart quickened. He crouched low, brushing aside debris with trembling hands. His fingers closed around the object: a tarnished pendant, its surface etched with intricate patterns. It wasn't much, but in the slums of Vorthas, even a trinket like this could buy a loaf of bread—or a few hours of safety.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Luck, don't fail me now."
The growl came from behind him, low and guttural, reverberating through the air like a warning bell.
Kael froze, his breath hitching in his throat. Slowly, he turned his head, every instinct screaming at him to run.
From the shadows of a collapsed building, a pair of glowing yellow eyes stared back at him. The beast stepped into the light—a hulking mass of sinew and jagged bone, its black hide glistening with an unnatural sheen. Its maw dripped with ichor, and its claws scraped against the stone as it advanced.
Kael's mind raced. He'd heard stories of Netherbeasts like this, but seeing one up close was another matter entirely. It was larger than any creature he'd ever faced, its very presence radiating a primal, suffocating fear.
"Damn it," he hissed, clutching the pendant tightly in one hand and his dagger in the other. He backed away, his heart pounding like a war drum.
The beast snarled, its muscles coiling like a spring.
"Stay back," Kael growled, though his voice trembled.
The beast lunged.
Kael threw himself to the side, the creature's claws raking the ground where he'd stood moments before. He rolled to his feet, his dagger raised, though he knew it was useless. The beast's hide was like armor, and his blade was barely sharp enough to cut through cloth.
The beast snarled again, its eyes fixed on him. It moved with terrifying speed, circling him like a predator toying with its prey.
Kael's thoughts raced. "Think, damn it. Think! You can't outrun it, and you sure as hell can't fight it. So what the hell do you do?"
The beast lunged again, faster this time. Kael swung wildly, the dagger scraping uselessly against its hide. Pain exploded in his side as the beast's claws raked him, tearing through fabric and flesh.
He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs. His vision blurred, and the world tilted. The pendant slipped from his grasp, clinking softly against the stone.
"Is this it?" he thought, his mind spiraling. "Lira... I'm sorry."
The beast loomed over him, its jaws opening wide. But before it could strike, a deep, guttural voice echoed through the ruins—a voice that wasn't human.
"Enough."
The beast froze, its head snapping toward the source of the voice. Kael blinked, struggling to focus. From the shadows, a figure emerged.
It was a man—or what was left of one. His body was draped in tattered robes, his face obscured by a hood. But what caught Kael's attention was the darkness that seemed to cling to him, writhing like living tendrils.
"You..." the figure rasped, his voice like the scrape of metal on stone. "You are not ready... but you will do."
Kael tried to speak, but his throat was dry, his strength fading. The figure knelt beside him, a hand outstretched. Black tendrils snaked from his fingers, curling around Kael's wounds. The pain vanished, replaced by a cold, numbing sensation.
"What... what are you?" Kael croaked.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, he placed a hand on Kael's chest, and the world seemed to tilt again. Shadows surged around them, swallowing the light, the ruins, the beast—everything.
Kael felt as if he were falling, spiraling through an endless void. Whispers filled his ears, a thousand voices speaking in a language he couldn't understand. He glimpsed flashes of alien landscapes—skies torn apart by lightning, armies of shadowy figures clashing beneath the gaze of titanic beings.
The whispers grew louder, a cacophony that threatened to split his mind. And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.
Kael awoke to find the ruins bathed in the pale light of dawn. The Netherbeast was gone, its corpse reduced to ash. The pendant lay beside him, untouched. But something was different.
He looked at his hands, now faintly marked with dark, vein-like patterns. His shadow, cast by the rising sun, seemed to move unnaturally, flickering and twisting as if alive.
"What... what did he do to me?" Kael whispered.
The answer came not in words, but in a feeling—a cold, insistent pull from within.
The Eclipse Codex had awakened.