The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, casting an eerie red glow over Veyron's mountain peaks. Kael Veyron stood on the eastern watchtower, gazing down at the village nestled in the valley below. His home, the sacred land of his ancestors and the heart of his clan. Yet even as the sun attempted to pierce the darkness of night, an unshakable dread clung to the air.
Kael's eyes narrowed as his breath clouded in the frigid morning. The birds, usually so vocal at dawn, had suddenly gone silent. The distant trees swayed, their blackened figures moving unnaturally. Something had changed overnight. He could feel it, and his void spirit stirred uneasily within him, a restless force bound to his very soul.
"Kael! Breakfast is ready!" His younger sister, Lira, called from the tower's base. Her cheerful voice shattered the quiet tension, but Kael could not tear his gaze from the horizon. For weeks, whispers had spread beyond the clan's borders. Rumors of alliances, dark sorcery, and a looming war. Still, the village elders had insisted that Veyron was impenetrable. They had dismissed Kael's warnings as the paranoia of a warrior too young to understand peace.
Kael turned to descend, but a sudden shift in the wind froze him midstep. The treetops near the southern ridge shook, as if something massive had disturbed them. His pulse quickened.
"Lira, go back inside!" Kael barked, urgency very evident his voice.
"Why? What's wrong?" she innocently asked, her smile fading.
"I said go!"
Without waiting for her reply, Kael sprinted to the edge of the watchtower and grabbed the signal horn. A single, mournful blast echoed across the valley, an ancient warning known to every Veyron clansman. Alarm bells answered in the distance, and figures scattered throughout the village below. Warriors rushed from their homes, hastily arming themselves as the elders emerged from the temple at the village center.
The southern ridge exploded.
A dark force poured through the treeline, crashing forward like a black wave of death. Cloaked figures wielding swords and staffs charged the village with unnatural speed. Shadows twisted unnaturally around them; assassins of the Void. They struck the outermost huts with terrifying precision, flames erupting as they went by.
Kael's heart thundered.
He leapt from the watchtower, landing in the village square just as chaos erupted around him. He grabbed Lira's hand and pulled her toward the temple, where a handful of necromancer elders had already begun forming a protective wall.
"Kael, they've breached the southern gate!" shouted his father, Garron Veyron, the chief of the clan.
Dressed in obsidian armor adorned with bone runes, Garron radiated authority. Yet even he could not hide the fear tightening his jaw.
Kael nodded grimly. "They're using dark magic. We're outnumbered."
"I know," Garron said, his voice laced with sorrow. "We prepared for this day, but I fear we didn't do enough."
Suddenly, a violent blast of dark energy erupted in the square, scattering warriors and villagers alike. A towering sorcerer stepped forward from the resulting smoke, his face hidden beneath a cracked iron mask. His aura reeked of death and power.
"The Void King has sent his heralds," Garron growled, drawing his greatsword. "This is no ordinary attack."
Kael tightened his grip on his blade. "Then we fight with everything we have."
"Take your sister to the sanctum," Garron ordered. "It's the only safe place left."
Kael hesitated. "Father—"
"Go! Protect what remains of our legacy." Garron would not let him finish.
Reluctantly, Kael obeyed.
He pulled Lira through the narrow alleys, dodging falling debris and stray bursts of magic. Fires spread rapidly, engulfing homes in minutes. Villagers screamed, scattering like frightened birds before the advancing assassins. Kael's blood boiled with helpless rage.
They reached the entrance of the sanctum, a towering stone arch carved into the mountainside behind the temple. The doors, inscribed with ancient necromantic sigils, stood open, waiting. Kael pushed Lira inside, but before he could follow, a massive force slammed into him from behind.
Kael crashed to the ground, dazed. His blade skidded out of reach. The iron-masked sorcerer stood over him, dark energy crackling in his hands.
"You cannot escape fate, boy," the sorcerer hissed. "Your bloodline ends here."
Kael struggled to rise, but the sorcerer's power held him pinned. Desperation grabbed at his chest. He closed his eyes, reaching deep into the void spirit that dwelled within. Its chaotic energy surged to life, threatening to consume him.
He surrendered to it.
A burst of dark light erupted from Kael's body, breaking the sorcerer's hold. Kael leapt to his feet, void energy crackling along his skin. He roared, charging at the sorcerer with every ounce of strength he possessed. Their clash shook the ground, but Kael was no match for the herald's mastery of dark sorcery.
The sorcerer's blade found its mark. Pain exploded in Kael's side, and he fell to the dirt. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the sacred ground of his ancestors.
"No!" Lira's scream pierced the chaos. She rushed forward, but before she could reach Kael, the sorcerer turned on her.
"Run," Kael yelled in pains. "Lira, run!"
But she didn't. She stood defiantly between Kael and the sorcerer, her small hands raised in a desperate attempt to shield him.
The sorcerer laughed coldly. "Foolish girl." He raised his hand for the final strike—
A blinding light exploded from the temple steps. Garron Veyron charged, his greatsword raised high. With a single, mighty swing, he severed the sorcerer's arm at the elbow. The dark magic flowed in place of blood, and the sorcerer stumbled back, hissing in pain.
"Take them and go!" Garron roared. "Now!"
Kael felt himself being lifted. Lira dragging him with surprising strength. The world blurred as she hauled him into the sanctum. The ancient doors shut behind them, sealing the entrance just as Garron and the sorcerer clashed one final time.
Inside, Kael collapsed. His wounds burned with unbearable heat, and his vision faded. The last thing he saw was Lira's tear streaked face, her hands pressed desperately against his chest.
"Stay with me, Kael," she whispered. "Stay."
Darkness claimed him.
When Kael awoke, the village was gone. Ash coated the air, and silence reigned. He staggered to the sanctum's entrance, weak but determined. The doors opened to reveal what had once been Veyron, a smoking ruin littered with the bodies of warriors and villagers alike.
Lira knelt at the edge of the temple's steps, clutching their father's lifeless form. She did not weep. Her eyes were empty, hollowed by grief beyond measure.
Kael fell to his knees beside her, guilt and despair crushing him. They were all that remained of their clan. He had failed to protect his people.
A cold wind swept through the valley, carrying with it the distant echoes of dark laughter.
Kael clenched his fists.
The alliance had taken everything from him. And he would make them pay.
One day, the Void itself would tremble beneath his vengeance.