My name was Valen El'Aranor, King of Elvishia. At least… that's what the world used to call me.Elvishia was the crown of the realm, a kingdom of art and elegance, protected by vast marble walls and ruled from a palace carved into the side of a great silver mountain. Our skies stayed blue long after the sun set. Our people laughed without fear. And for a time, it was beautiful.
My rule began not in war, but in hope. I believed in peace. In education. In unity. I opened our gates to demi‑humans, sheltered them when others turned them away. I lessened Church control over the law. I believed—perhaps foolishly—that progress would win hearts. And I was loved for it.
Or… so I thought.
I married the rose of the realm—Queen Seraphina. Her smile could stop wars. Her eyes saw into men's souls. Everyone believed I was the luckiest king alive. And I believed it too.
At my side were five great commanders, each guarding a region of the kingdom. My strongest ally was Duke Kael, my childhood friend. We trained together. Fought together. We rose together. He was like a brother.
On the night of my thirtieth birthday, Elvishia bloomed brighter than ever. Lanterns lit every street. Children ran with ribbons in hand. The markets overflowed with song and spice, and the palace echoed with laughter. I stood at the heart of it all, cloaked in royal silver, Seraphina at my side.
"You've made something beautiful, Valen," Kael toasted, lifting his cup. "Elvishia will remember your name forever."I smiled at him, not knowing those words were the knife that would end me.
The celebration stretched past midnight—wine flowed, fireworks rose like reborn stars. But behind Seraphina's smile, there was something… cold. She touched my arm. "There's a surprise," she said sweetly. "Come, my love." I followed her into the great hall.
Into silence.
My five commanders stood waiting. Kael among them. All in full armor. I frowned. "What is this?"Seraphina stepped back.
Kael's voice came first:
"You conspired with demons. Plotted genocide against demi‑humans. Lied to your people. Poisoned the court with dark power."
"You are unfit to rule," Seraphina added, stepping forward. "This kingdom deserves a savior, not a shadow."
"Your death," another commander spat, "is divine justice."
I looked at Kael. At my wife. At all of them. My voice broke. "You… you know that's not true." Kael didn't answer. He drove his blade into my chest.
I did not die in the hall. They dragged my broken, bleeding body outside the city and threw me into the dark pit—the place where traitors rot, nameless and forgotten. That is where I died.
Darkness.
That's all I saw when I opened my eyes. Not the soft velvet of a closed room, not the comfort of shadow—but real, living darkness. Cold. Wet. Heavy. And it smelled… like rot.
I tried to move, but something soft and cold shifted beneath me. A body. No—bodies. My hand slipped against a lifeless arm. My foot bumped a broken skull. I lay in a mountain of corpses, and I was one of them. Or should have been.
I gasped—but no breath came. My chest did not rise. My heart did not beat. Yet I was awake. Aware. And then…the pain hit.
My back burned—like fire laced with lightning. I reached behind me. My fingers brushed skin. There, carved deep, was a strange mark glowing faintly beneath the grime. A symbol I'd never seen but somehow… it knew me, as if it had always been waiting.
I crawled out from the heap, my limbs stiff, covered in dried blood that wasn't entirely mine. The moon above was pale. The wind sharp. A lake stood nearby. Still. Silent.
I knelt by its edge and peered into the water. What I saw was not me. My skin was ash‑gray. My eyes glowed faint red. My face—once noble and proud—was now monstrous.
I didn't scream. I only whispered one word:"…Why?"
There were no answers. Only memories. Then, as if cracked glass pressed against my mind, I saw visions—not mine.
Lives. Faces. Crowns. Each one—a Demon King. And each one… betrayed. Like me.
I found a cloak draped over a corpse nearby: tattered, torn, but enough to hide what I had become. I wrapped it around myself and began walking. I didn't know where I was going. But my feet knew.
They buried me with lies—but the roots of my vengeance are already taking hold.
© 2025 Kael Virell. All rights reserved.
This is an original work of fiction. No part of this text may be copied, distributed, or reproduced without permission from the author. All characters, names, and places are the intellectual property of Kael Virell.