The air was crisp in Varethia, carrying the scent of autumn as golden leaves drifted lazily from the towering oaks. The kingdom bustled with life merchants peddling their wares in the grand plaza, blacksmiths hammering steel in the forges, children weaving between market stalls with laughter echoing through the streets. For centuries, Varethia had known peace, untouched by war or ruin. Yet, on the eve of the 9th Veilmoon, an unease crept into the hearts of those who called this place home.
Zaedric Voss stood outside his modest home, his calloused hands gripping a bundle of firewood. He had lived here all his life, an ordinary man with no grand aspirations just a simple life with his family. As he stepped inside, the warmth of the hearth greeted him, casting flickering shadows against the wooden walls. His mother stirred a pot over the fire, humming softly, while his younger sister, Lyria, sat cross-legged on the floor, polishing a carved wooden figurine.
"You were gone longer than usual," his mother said, casting him a knowing glance.
"Old Varlen needed help hauling a stubborn mule back to the stable. Took longer than I thought," Zaedric replied, setting the firewood near the hearth. He ruffled Lyria's hair as he passed, earning a playful swat from the girl.
His father sat at the table, sharpening a worn hunting knife. "The air feels different tonight," he murmured. "The 9th Veilmoon approaches."
Zaedric frowned. He had heard the old tales whispers of unnatural things stirring when the Veilmoon hung full in the sky. Superstitions, nothing more. Yet, the way his father spoke, the way his mother's hum faltered for just a breath, sent a shiver down his spine.
Outside, a cold wind howled through the streets. The town's usual vibrance dimmed as night fell, doors locking earlier than usual, shutters drawn tight. Even the marketplace, which normally hummed with activity well into the evening, had emptied. It was as if the city itself held its breath.
And then, the bells tolled.
A single chime, deep and resonant. Then another. And another. The sound echoed through the kingdom, each ring carrying a weight of finality.
Zaedric's father rose abruptly, his grip tightening on the knife. "Go inside. Lock the doors."
A distant scream cut through the night, followed by another. Shadows flickered beyond the window dark figures moving unnaturally fast. And then came the sound that would haunt Zaedric forever.
A guttural, inhuman roar. The demons had come.
Chaos erupted outside. The screams of the townspeople melded with the guttural howls of the invading creatures. The earth itself seemed to tremble beneath the weight of something unnatural. Zaedric stood frozen for a heartbeat, his mind struggling to process the nightmare unfolding beyond the walls of his home.
His father didn't hesitate. "We need to leave. Now."
His mother's hands trembled as she grabbed Lyria, pulling her close. "The cellar-"
"No time," his father cut in. "We run. Stick to the alleys. Don't look back."
Zaedric swallowed hard and nodded. He grasped Lyria's hand tightly as his father unbolted the door. The moment it swung open, the stench of sulfur and blood hit them. The once-proud streets of Varethia were bathed in an eerie crimson glow, fires spreading through the marketplace. Bodies lay strewn across the cobblestones some whole, others torn apart. And looming in the distance, barely visible through the smoke, were the creatures.
They moved like shadows given form, their elongated limbs twisting unnaturally, eyes burning like embers in the dark. Zaedric had never seen anything like them, monstrous, otherworldly, their very presence exuding an aura of dread.
His father led the way, staying low, guiding them through the winding alleyways. Every breath Zaedric took felt heavy, laced with the metallic tang of blood. He gripped Lyria's hand tighter, feeling her tremble beside him.
A crash sounded behind them. One of the creatures had spotted them.
It let out an ear-piercing screech before lunging forward.
Zaedric's father turned, shoving them ahead. "Run!"
He didn't wait to see what happened next. He pulled Lyria forward, his mother at his side, sprinting through the narrow passageways. The city was unrecognizable, once familiar streets now turned into a burning labyrinth of death.
Another scream this time, his mother's.
Zaedric turned just in time to see one of the creatures seize her by the shoulder, its jagged claws sinking deep. She barely had time to cry out before it yanked her back into the shadows.
"No!" Zaedric tried to turn, but his father's voice cut through his panic.
"We can't save her! Keep moving!"
Tears blurred his vision as he stumbled forward, Lyria sobbing at his side. He wanted to fight, to turn back, to do anything but run. But deep down, he knew his father was right. This was survival.
They reached the outer gates, but the creatures were everywhere. Guards fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered, slaughtered one by one. There was no way out, no way but forward. His father made a decision then, one that Zaedric wouldn't understand until much later.
He shoved Zaedric and Lyria toward the forest. "Go! Don't stop!"
"Father-"
"Live!"
And then he turned, drawing his blade, facing the horror bearing down on him.
Zaedric ran. He ran as his world burned, as his family was torn apart, as everything he had ever known was consumed by darkness.
He ran into the unknown.
To survive...