Born of human blood but cursed with demonic essence, *Kael* was never meant to exist. Rejected by his family, tortured as a training dummy, and cast aside by humanity, he never spoke a word—until the day he vanished into the cursed forest.

What emerged was no longer a boy.

Now ruler of the undead, Kael builds a dark empire from bone and vengeance, vowing to erase the flawed race that betrayed him. But as kingdoms unite, heroes rise, and holy relics awaken, Kael must confront not only humanity's wrath… but the shadow of what he’s becoming.

As power twists loyalty and rage fuels evolution, can a monster forged by cruelty ever find peace—or is annihilation his only destiny?

*Rise of the Demonborn* is a brutal, magical, and emotional dark fantasy filled with battles, betrayal, power, and a silent king who speaks only in war.

Kael's breaths were sharp and shallow as he crashed through brambles and broken roots. Blood trickled down his spine. His wings twitched—half-healed, heavy. He didn't stop.


The *Seraphim's light* still clung to his bones. Even now, deep within the cursed woods, he felt that lingering holiness searing his skin.


He dropped near an old ravine, collapsing beside a moss-covered stone.


"You flee divinity… yet crave dominion."


The stone beside him pulsed—then cracked. Faint purple light seeped from it, and the air twisted with old, suffocating power.


"Speak," Kael said flatly, though every instinct warned him not to.


From the fissure in the stone, a *face* emerged—not fully formed, but shifting constantly. A woman. A thousand eyes. A child. A skeleton. All at once.


"I am Nyzereth," it said. "Binder of souls. Slayer of gods. Forgotten by time."


Kael narrowed his eyes. "You're imprisoned."


She grinned, jagged and wide. "But you, little demon—*you were rejected*. And now you rise, like rot from a throne."


Nyzereth's light flickered brighter. "Then trade."


A circle of runes formed beneath Kael's feet.


"You give me your fire—your emotion, your last flicker of *humanity*. I give you knowledge lost even to hell."


A *scream* ripped from Kael—not his voice, but something deeper, torn from his chest. Light burst from his eyes. Memories—his mother's warmth, his brother's laughter, the one time he cried as a child—all *ripped away*.


Kael stood, eyes glowing dark violet now. Skin slightly grayer. No heartbeat. No warmth.


She whispered into his mind—*the Ritual of Bonefire*, a forbidden spell that let him burn corpses to create sentient undead—able to think, speak, *deceive*.


And Therrow would never see him coming.


Chapter 8 - Chapter 7: Ashes and Oaths