1 – The Rebirth of Darkness
The world trembled.
Not with storms, not with quakes, but with something unseen—something beyond mortal senses. It was a shift in the very essence of existence.
And those who stood above, those who claimed dominion over the realms, heard it.
An unseen voice, neither kind nor cruel, spoke to the gods themselves.
"You have watched over creation. You have shaped its fate. You have decided who rises and who falls."
"But what will you do when the cycle moves beyond your grasp?"
"Two souls shall return, one of darkness, one of light."
"Their past erased, their destiny unknown."
"You fear what they may become."
"But you will not stop it."
"The world shall witness their return."
And with those words, the presence vanished, leaving only an echo in the minds of the divine.
Far beyond mortal understanding, gods stirred, unsettled. Some watched in curiosity. Others in dread.
For they knew the meaning behind those words.
Something had awakened.
And soon, the world would know it too.
---
Frostvale Village – The Birth of Darkness
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
There was no wind, no rustling leaves, not even the distant howls of wolves. It was as if the world itself had paused, waiting.
Inside a modest wooden home, a woman's cries of pain shattered the silence.
Seria Vael, once a feared mercenary, now a woman struggling in labor, gritted her teeth as waves of agony surged through her body. Her hands clenched the sheets, knuckles white.
Her husband, Darius Vael, held her hand tightly, whispering words of comfort.
"Just a little longer, Seria. You're strong. You've fought through worse."
Her lips curled into a weak smile. "This… is worse."
The midwife beside them worked quickly, her hands moving with urgency, yet even she could not deny the unease in the air.
Something was wrong.
It wasn't the birth itself—Seria was strong. But the air, the silence outside, the way the fire in the lanterns dimmed without reason…
Something unseen loomed.
Then, as the final push came, the tension shattered.
A newborn's breath filled the room.
But there was no crying.
No wailing.
Only silence.
The midwife froze. She had helped deliver dozens of children in her lifetime, but never had she experienced this. Slowly, hesitantly, she looked down at the child in her arms.
Silver eyes.
Deep, piercing, and far too aware.
That was the only word she could find. This baby was aware in a way no newborn should be. His gaze was calm, almost analytical, as if observing the world with understanding beyond his age.
Then, for the briefest moment—
His eyes flickered red.
And across the world, the effects were immediate.
---
A Tremor Across the World
Miles away, in the grand city of Valtara, an archmage awoke in terror, clutching his chest as an unexplainable force pulsed through his body.
"What… what is this presence?!"
His hands trembled, his magic faltering for the first time in decades. He was not alone. Every high mage across the continent had felt it.
Something beyond their understanding had returned.
Deep beneath the earth, in forgotten catacombs where ancient horrors slept, monstrous entities stirred, their instincts screaming in recognition.
In the darkened forests, beasts that had never bowed to another lowered their heads to the ground, as if swearing fealty to something unseen.
And in places untouched by time, where monsters ruled the land, creatures who had never known fear felt it for the first time.
They did not understand why.
They only knew one thing.
He has returned.
And yet, he was only a child.
Unaware.
Sleeping in his mother's arms.
---
Nine Years Later – Frostvale Village
Elias Vael was no ordinary child.
He did not know why he was different.
But he was.
He never feared the dark.
He moved with unnatural precision, even in childhood games.
Weapons felt familiar in his hands, as if he had wielded them before.
And sometimes… he dreamed.
They were not ordinary dreams. They were fragments—visions of battle, of destruction, of betrayal. He would wake up with his heart pounding, but never remembering why.
The villagers saw none of this.
To them, Elias was a prodigy, the son of a blacksmith, a boy who learned swordplay faster than anyone his age.
To Elias, he was simply waiting for something.
For what, he did not know.
---
The Attack on Frostvale
That night, fate called upon him for the first time.
The village was asleep when they came.
Ten men, wrapped in tattered cloaks and the stench of blood, slipped into Frostvale under the cover of darkness. Bandits. Ruthless, hardened criminals who had killed before and would kill again.
Their leader, a massive brute with a scar across his jaw, stepped forward, raising his blade. His voice carried a twisted amusement.
"Kill the men. Take the women. Burn the rest."
Screams erupted from the villagers as they woke to chaos. Fires ignited, illuminating terrified faces as people ran for their lives.
Darius Vael stood his ground.
His blade, old and worn from years of use, gleamed under the firelight. His stance was solid, unwavering.
"You will not harm my family."
The bandits sneered.
Before they could charge, someone stepped forward.
Not a warrior. Not a villager.
A child.
Elias.
The bandits laughed.
"Get lost, brat, or you'll be the first to die."
Elias did not respond.
He did not move.
He only stared.
And then—
Something inside him shifted.
The heat in his blood, the whisper in his soul—it awakened.
He moved.
Faster than a child should.
The first bandit swung his sword—Elias sidestepped effortlessly, as if he had seen the attack before.
A second later, he struck.
A wooden training sword, meant for practice, snapped into the man's throat with pinpoint precision.
The bandit collapsed, choking, gasping for air.
Silence.
The laughter was gone.
The leader's expression twisted into something unreadable.
"What… what is this kid?"
Another lunged.
Elias reacted.
A shattered kneecap.
A dodge—fire magic barely missing his face.
A counter—his wooden sword splintering against a bandit's ribs.
He moved as if his body remembered something his mind did not.
By the time the last bandits realized their mistake, three of them were already writhing in pain.
Elias stood among them, breathing heavily, eyes flickering with something inhuman.
He did not know why, but he felt as if—
He had fought a thousand battles before.
The remaining bandits fled in terror.
---
The Aftermath
The village hailed Elias as a prodigy, a savior.
But he did not feel like one.
That feeling in his blood—the whispers in his soul—they would not stop.
That night, as he looked up at the sky, he felt lost.
And somewhere, in the darkest depths of the world, monsters and demons still whispered one truth.
"The King is alive."