Varian Locke's hands trembled as he traced the edge of an ancient parchment spread across his desk. His sunken eyes darted between Kaelen, Seraphina, and Dorian, as if weighing whether he should speak at all.
"The Crimson Power is not a gift," he repeated, voice hoarse with years of isolation. "It is a force older than the Cursed Realm itself. A force that was never meant to be wielded by mortals."
Kaelen crossed his arms, his crimson aura flickering with impatience. "I don't have time for riddles, Locke. I need real answers. Now."
Varian exhaled shakily. "Then listen carefully, because once you know the truth, there is no turning back."
He gestured to a massive tapestry covering the far wall. At his signal, Seraphina ignited a small flame, illuminating the ancient fabric. The image depicted a battle unlike any Kaelen had ever seen. Towering figures, cloaked in shadows and wreathed in crimson energy, clashed against warriors bearing radiant sigils of light.
"The Crimson Power," Varian murmured, his fingers grazing the fabric, "is not merely magic. It is a remnant of something greater something that existed before the Cursed Realm, before the System itself."
Kaelen felt a chill creep up his spine.
"These beings," Varian continued, pointing at the shadowed figures in the tapestry, "were called the Crimson Harbingers. They were not men, not even gods. They were entities of pure destruction, and their very existence threatened to unmake reality itself."
Seraphina frowned. "Then how were they stopped?"
Varian turned, his hollow eyes locking onto Kaelen.
"They weren't. They were sealed trapped within the very fabric of this world. And their power, the Crimson Power, was splintered into fragments. Most were lost to time… but some found their way into mortal hands."
Dorian exhaled sharply. "You're saying Kaelen's power comes from them?"
Varian nodded. "A fragment of their essence. And the more you use it, the more it uses you."
Kaelen clenched his fists. He had suspected his power was dangerous, but this? This was something else entirely.
Seraphina stepped forward. "If what you're saying is true, then why was Kaelen chosen? Why now?"
Varian hesitated. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he pulled open a heavy tome, flipping through brittle pages until he found what he was looking for. He turned the book toward them.
Kaelen's breath caught.
It was an illustration.
A figure shrouded in crimson flames, standing at the edge of a crumbling world. And beneath it, a name written in a forgotten dialect one that Kaelen somehow understood.
Vorthron.
His family name.
His destiny had been decided long before he was even born.
Varian's voice was grim. "Your father knew, Kaelen. He was searching for a way to stop it. But he failed." His gaze darkened. "And now, Elias Drennar is looking for the same power. If he succeeds, the seals will break… and the Crimson Harbingers will rise again."
Silence filled the chamber.
Kaelen inhaled deeply. The weight of the revelation settled over him like an iron shroud.
There was no running from this. No escaping his fate.
If he didn't stop Elias…
The world itself might not survive.
To Be Continued…