The Day After Ash Was Born
Ash awoke.
At first, he wasn't sure he had fallen asleep at all. The walls around him were still cloaked in the same silver-blue shadows. The air was still cold and thick with a kind of power he didn't understand. It smelled faintly of old incense and the night wind. Above, the ceiling was carved with unfamiliar runes—some glowing faintly, others sleeping like etched scars in black stone.
He blinked.
"…Yep. Still the same," he thought—or would have, if he had the words. For now, it was just an instinct, a wordless impression. A cradle, dark and firm, cradled his small body. The bedding was velvet-soft, though the edges of the room still looked unwelcoming, too sharp for something meant for a child.
He turned his tiny head toward a tall, narrow window. Outside, the world was silent and silvered.
There was no sun.
Only three moons floated in the sky—one pale, one crimson, and one dark like obsidian glass. The stars were thick, pulsing gently in constellations unfamiliar to any mortal realm. He watched, blinking. The stillness, the sheer strangeness of it all, made his breath catch.
Behind him, movement stirred. The quiet noises he had made had awakened her.
His mother.
Ela sat up slowly from the far corner of the room, her long silver hair spilling over her shoulders like a soft waterfall. Her wings—folded and dim—glinted faintly in the moonlight. She rose with care, her pale feet silent on the dark floor as she came to him.
And when she lifted him into her arms, he felt it: warmth.
"Good morning, little one," she whispered, her voice still lined with sleep but touched by something fierce and soft.
She held him close and gently guided him to her chest, opening her robe to feed him. Ash blinked at first, confused and curious. Then instinct took over.
His lips found her, and he began to nurse.
The taste was warm. Sweet. Calming in a way nothing else in this world was. His tiny hand grasped gently at her, not with desperation, but with quiet awe—his first real connection to something familiar in this strange, moonlit world. Ela hummed softly, stroking his hair, her eyes distant as though watching memories pass behind the moons outside.
Once he was full, she adjusted her robe, holding him against her shoulder and standing with practiced grace. She walked him slowly across the room, her steps steady.
Then, after a moment of thought, she pulled a tall chair near the window.
Sitting down, she shifted Ash into her arms, facing the vast world outside. His eyes widened.
From their perch in the Iron Spires, the capital of the Abyss Empire stretched before them. Obsidian towers reached toward the heavens. Spires, like jagged fangs, pierced the night. Below, winding roads coiled around colossal statues, courtyards, and bridges lit by ghostly flame. In the distance, dense forests rimmed the horizon—alive, shifting. Dark things moved in their depths.
There were flying beasts circling the tallest towers, and in the far sky, a single black airship glided through the stars like a shark through water.
He didn't understand what he was seeing. Not really.
But it awed him.
It was a kingdom. A world. A realm of shadows and stone and silent power.
It was his.
Nestled in his mother's arms, Ash stared out the window, silent now. A newborn with no knowledge of fate, of war, of prophecy.
But something in his eyes shimmered. A faint reflection of starlight… and something darker.
After a while, the stillness was broken by a faint sound—soft creaking, the subtle scrape of heavy wood on stone. Ash's tiny head turned toward the door. The door opened slowly, its hinges groaning like a tired beast.
A figure appeared in the doorway—a female demon maid, her form slender and graceful, with eyes that gleamed like onyx. Her dark hair was tied back, and her uniform was simple but well-kept, with a hint of silver embroidery that caught the moonlight.
She spoke quietly but politely, addressing Ash's mother.
"Mistress Ela, the breakfast is ready," she said softly.
Ela's eyes softened, and she smiled faintly. "Thank you, Nira. lets go then," she replied gently.
Without hesitation, Ela carefully rose, still holding Ash close. The maid, Nira, followed silently as Ela moved toward the door.
As they left the chamber, Ash's gaze drifted along the hallway. The walls were lined with intricate carvings—ancient runes and swirling patterns that seemed to shift under the moonlight. Large paintings hung beside the doorways, each depicting legendary demons and heroes, battles etched in strokes of flame and shadow.
A great statue stood in a niche along the hall—a towering figure of a demon lord, its eyes carved with jewels that glittered faintly, and a crown of horns that spiraled like twisted flames.
Ash's eyes roamed the hall in wonder, absorbing every detail.
The air here hummed with history and power, every stone a silent witness to centuries of rule and war.
Ela stopped at a massive door at the end of the corridor, its surface carved deep with symbols that pulsed softly with arcane energy. She took a deep breath, her grip tightening slightly on Ash.
The maid stood silently beside her, awaiting instruction.