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The early morning mist clung to the ground like a shroud, blurring the familiar outlines of Bane's childhood home. He stood at the edge of the ruins, his boots sinking into the damp earth, his eyes fixed on the crumbling stone walls that had once been a place of warmth and laughter. Now, only ashes and broken remnants of his past remained. The fire had taken everything—his parents, his home, his life before the war.

The blood moon had been rising ever since.

A gust of wind stirred the ash, reminding Bane that even the past could be swept away by forces beyond anyone's control. But standing there, in the silent remnants of his former life, it was impossible not to remember how it had once been. The sight of the scorched earth, the twisted remnants of his home, felt like an echo of the life that had been stolen from him.

Bane clenched his fists, staring at the charred remnants of the house, his mind a whirlwind of memories and grief. The house hadn't always looked like this. It had been filled with the sound of his mother's laughter and his father's gruff voice. There had been love in these walls—something that seemed so distant now. He could almost hear it again, the echo of his mother calling him for dinner, his father yelling at him to finish his chores. Those voices were lost to the fire, and with them, any sense of peace.

The fire had taken everything, and yet... something still lingered. Something unspoken, unresolved.

A voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back into the present.

"Bane?"

Tarah's voice was low but urgent, as it always was when something was wrong. The mage's footsteps were barely audible as he approached, his robes swishing against the ground. Bane didn't turn to face him, but he knew Tarah was there, watching him with his sharp, knowing gaze. The mage had been a father to him after the fire. He'd taught Bane how to fight, how to survive. Tarah had seen the darkness that had come with that loss, the rage that burned inside Bane like a hidden flame.

Tarah knew all too well what it was like to lose everything.

Bane didn't respond immediately. Instead, he allowed himself a moment longer to look at the place that had once been his home. He thought about his mother's gentle hands, her warmth, her calm presence in the face of adversity. And his father—a man who had never shown weakness, who had taught him how to hold his ground, how to fight when there was no choice.

"Tarah," Bane finally said, his voice gravelly, as though the words were being pulled from deep within. He didn't need to explain himself; Tarah always understood. "It still feels like they're here, like they're just—just behind me, just out of reach." His voice faltered for a moment, but he steadied himself. "And the blood moon... it keeps rising, doesn't it?"

Tarah stepped closer, placing a hand on Bane's shoulder. His touch was warm but firm, a reminder of the bond they shared. "It does," he said softly. "And it's not just the moon. The curse has already begun to spread. I've felt it—felt the power seeping into the land. If we don't stop it soon, it will consume everything."

Bane finally turned to face him, his gaze intense. "What do we do, Tarah? Where do we start?"

The mage's eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "We start by gathering those who are still willing to fight. The curse of the blood moon is spreading too quickly. We need to find those who can stand against it. But we can't do it alone."

Bane's fists clenched. "Then we go to Hedonia. I've heard whispers that there are others there—others who might help."

Tarah nodded. "Yes. But there's more at stake than we realize. This is no ordinary curse. The blood moon isn't just an omen; it's a vessel—a conduit for an ancient force of destruction. We've seen the signs. The creatures that prowl these lands... the way they move, how they're changing. It's all connected. And there's someone behind it—someone who knows how to wield this power."

Bane's jaw tightened. "Hadius."

Tarah's expression darkened. "Yes. Hadius. He was once a mage like me, but he gave himself over to the void. To the darkness. And now, he's linked to the blood moon. If he isn't stopped, the world will fall into shadow."

Bane's heart pounded in his chest. The name "Hadius" echoed in his mind like a death knell. He had heard stories of the dark sorcerer, the man who had once been a great mage but had turned his back on everything in search of forbidden power. If what Tarah said was true, Hadius had already begun his dark work—and there was no time to waste.

"We can't waste any more time," Bane said firmly. "I'll leave tonight."

Tarah's eyes softened. "You're not alone in this, Bane. But you must be careful. The blood moon's influence isn't something to take lightly. It's already begun to warp those who come near it. It will twist even the strongest of us."

Bane nodded, understanding the gravity of Tarah's words. There was no turning back now. His mind was set. "Then I'll find them. Whoever they are. I'll gather the ones who still have the strength to fight."

With that, Bane turned on his heel and headed toward the woods, where his horse was tethered. The journey would be long, but there was no other choice. He had seen the land slowly succumbing to the darkness. Tekoa, his home, had already begun to falter under the weight of the curse. And soon, the rest of the world would follow.

He wasn't ready to surrender to that fate—not yet.

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The woods around Tekoa were thick and heavy with the scent of wet earth, the canopy above blocking out most of the light. Bane's horse moved swiftly through the trees, its hooves thundering softly against the dirt path. He rode with purpose, his mind focused on the road ahead. There was no room for hesitation, no time for reflection. His eyes were set on the horizon, where the village of Saigon lay.

But as he pushed forward, something stirred in the woods—a whisper, a flicker of movement. Bane's hand instinctively reached for his sword, his senses alert. He was not alone.

From the darkness ahead, a figure emerged.

A man, tall and lean, with dark hair and a cloak that fluttered in the wind. His eyes were sharp, his posture confident, and there was an undeniable sense of danger about him. Bane's hand hovered over his sword, but the stranger didn't move—he only watched.

"You're a long way from Tekoa, aren't you?" the stranger's voice was low and controlled, but there was something in it that sent a shiver down Bane's spine.

Bane studied him for a moment, his instincts on high alert. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice steady.

The stranger smiled faintly, as if amused. "I'm Santana," he said. "And I've been tracking these creatures for weeks."

Bane's grip tightened on the reins, his eyes narrowing. "What creatures?"

Before Santana could answer, the trees around them seemed to shudder. A guttural growl pierced the air. From the shadows, monstrous shapes began to emerge—beasts, twisted by the blood moon's curse, their eyes glowing with corrupted power.

Bane immediately reached for his sword. But Santana was faster.

With a blur of movement, Santana drew his own blade, a long, curved sword that seemed to hum with an unnatural energy. He moved through the creatures with precision, cutting through their twisted forms as if they were nothing more than shadows. Bane stood in awe for a moment, watching the swordsman's movements. Santana was a blur of motion—quick, deadly, and efficient. He was everything Bane aspired to be, and more.

When the last of the creatures fell, Santana turned to face him, wiping the blood from his blade with a calmness that seemed almost unnatural.

"Well, that was fun," Santana said, his voice low but amused.

Bane took a step forward, sheathing his sword. "Who are you, really? And why are you helping me?"

Santana's eyes flickered with something that could have been amusement, or perhaps something darker. "You're searching for answers, aren't you? You're trying to stop the blood moon. I'm trying kill the bastard who started it all."

Bane frowned. "Hadius."

Santana nodded. "That's the one. You might be a good warrior, but you'll need more than just strength to take him down. You'll need an army."

Bane studied Santana for a long moment, weighing his options. This stranger was offering something he hadn't considered—an alliance. And in a world on the brink of destruction, alliances were a rare commodity.

"You're right," Bane said, his voice firm. "Let's go. We need to find those who are still willing to fight."

Santana's eyes gleamed, a glint of something more than just determination in his gaze. "Then we'd better get moving."

The two men mounted their horses and rode off into the woods, their destination clear. There was no time to waste.

The blood moon was rising. And soon, the world would change forever.