The night bled red.
Fire roared through the halls of the Valtheris estate, devouring ancient tapestries and crumbling marble columns. The scent of burning flesh and the metallic tang of blood filled the air as screams echoed from every corridor.
Seraphina Valtheris clutched her newborn son tightly to her chest, her heart pounding like a war drum. She had never known fear like this—not during her noble upbringing, not even during the brutal wars that had nearly torn the kingdom apart. But now, as she stumbled through the dark, hidden passageways beneath the estate, she feared for her child's life more than her own.
The midwives struggled to keep up, their faces pale with terror. One of them, an elderly woman named Elara, whispered urgently, "My lady, we must hurry! The Inquisition will find the passage if we don't move fast enough!"
Seraphina nodded, biting back a sob. Her body ached from childbirth, but she forced herself forward. She could not falter now.
Behind them, the distant echoes of battle grew louder.
---
The Last Stand of House Valtheris
In the grand hall, Lord Aldric Valtheris stood unshaken, his greatsword drenched in blood. His armor bore deep cuts, his once-pristine cloak now tattered and soaked in crimson. But his eyes—cold, calculating, and filled with defiance—never wavered.
The Inquisition's silver-armored warriors surrounded him, their leader stepping forward.
"Lord Aldric," the golden-eyed knight spoke with a chilling calmness, "surrender the child, and your suffering will end swiftly."
Aldric laughed, a sound full of scorn and rage. "You think I fear death?" He tightened his grip on his blade, raising it in challenge. "Come, then. Let's see if your god still answers your prayers when you face a true monster."
With a battle cry, he lunged forward. And the massacre continued.
---
Through the Underground
Seraphina pressed deeper into the hidden tunnels, her breath shallow. The walls of the passage were damp, carved from ancient stone, long forgotten by even the servants of the estate. The tunnels led away from the estate and into the dark forests beyond Elarion—if they could reach the exit before the Inquisition discovered them.
Her child remained eerily silent in her arms, his black and crimson eyes staring up at her, unblinking. It was as if he understood—as if he knew what was happening.
Elara gasped suddenly, stopping in her tracks. "No… No, this can't be…"
Seraphina turned sharply. "What is it?"
The midwife pointed ahead—where the tunnel should have led to freedom, a figure stood in the darkness.
A man in a white cloak. His silver gauntlets gleamed in the dim light, and his face was partially obscured by the hood of the Inquisition. But his presence alone was suffocating.
An Executioner.
Seraphina's blood ran cold.
The Executioners were not mere warriors. They were the Inquisition's holy enforcers, trained to hunt and destroy anything deemed "unclean" by the gods. Their presence meant only one thing: they had known about the tunnels all along.
Elara's hands trembled. "Run, my lady," she whispered. "I… I will hold him off."
Seraphina's eyes widened. "No, you—"
Before she could protest, Elara stepped forward, standing between Seraphina and the Executioner.
The man sighed, his voice almost bored. "Move aside, woman. You serve no purpose."
Elara didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, a dagger flashing in her frail hands. It was a desperate attempt—one that ended instantly.
The Executioner barely moved. His blade flickered through the air, so fast Seraphina didn't even see it.
A second later, Elara's head hit the ground before her body even fell.
Seraphina choked back a scream, stumbling backward.
"Pitiful," the Executioner muttered, stepping over the old woman's corpse. His golden eyes locked onto Seraphina. "Hand over the child. Now."
Her fingers clenched around her son. No. Never.
She turned and ran.
---
The Unleashing of the Curse
The tunnel walls blurred as she sprinted through the passage, the Executioner's footsteps hauntingly calm behind her. He wasn't rushing—he didn't need to. He knew she had nowhere to go.
But Seraphina wasn't ready to give up.
Ahead, the tunnel opened into the dark forest beyond the estate. The moonlight cast eerie shadows against the trees, but she didn't stop. She didn't hesitate. She just needed to make it to the river.
But the Executioner finally spoke again, his voice carrying a weight of finality.
"The gods do not forgive the cursed."
A wave of divine energy surged through the tunnel, slamming into Seraphina like an invisible force. She gasped as pain shot through her body, her legs giving out beneath her.
She crashed to the ground, her child tumbling from her arms onto the cold earth.
"No—!"
The Executioner loomed over them, his blade gleaming with holy light. He raised it, ready to strike down the newborn.
Seraphina reached out, desperate, helpless—
And then—
The world shook.
The air twisted, the shadows moved.
And the child… laughed.
The Executioner froze. His golden eyes widened slightly. "What…?"
The baby opened its black and crimson eyes. And in that moment, the curse awakened.
A sudden wave of darkness erupted from the child's small body, a pulse of raw, ancient power that sent a chill through the very fabric of existence. The ground beneath them cracked, tendrils of shadow creeping outward like hungry serpents.
The Executioner took a step back. "Impossible—"
The darkness lunged.
It moved like a living thing, tendrils of black mist wrapping around the Executioner's body. He slashed at them with his sword, but it was useless. The shadows devoured everything.
His screams were short-lived.
By the time the darkness receded, nothing remained of the Executioner but his sword, now rusted and broken.
Seraphina could hardly breathe. She looked down at her child, now quiet, his eerie eyes staring into hers.
She should have been horrified. She should have recoiled in fear.
But instead, for the first time that night, she felt hope.
This child—her son—was not just cursed.
He was something more.
And the world would come to fear him.
She gathered him into her arms, rising unsteadily to her feet. "We must go, my love," she whispered, stepping into the dark forest. "The world is not ready for you yet."
With one last glance at the burning ruins of House Valtheris, Seraphina disappeared into the night.
The child, nestled against her, closed his eyes and slept.
And so, the legend of the Accursed Heir began.