Far from the cities of men — beyond rivers that bled ink and forests twisted by blight — there stood a ruined chapel.
Its spires had long crumbled.
Its altar was blackened with age and sin.
But tonight, fire returned.
A fragment of key — massive and pulsing — burned in the center of the shattered floor. Seven masked figures knelt before it, their robes tattered, their voices hushed.
> "The vessel has awakened."
The speaker wore a horned mask of cracked obsidian. The others bowed their heads deeper.
> "We felt it. A flicker. Barely controlled. The demon is alive."
> "Then the boy must be tested," said another. "Before the Flame fully claims him."
> "We wait for Lord Azareth's command," a third warned.
> "No," whispered the horned one. "We act now. Delay is death."
The fragment flared red — then dimmed.
The demons slowly rose, one by one, fading into the smoke-choked night.
But one remained.
He hadn't spoken.
Hadn't moved.
He stood at the far end of the chapel, draped in bone-white robes and silence.
Velgrin the silent one.
Once the others were gone, he stepped toward the fragment of key. Slowly. Reverently.
His voice, when it came, did not echo. It carved.
> "Fools. You seek to awaken Ravh'Zereth... as if that beast is the end."
He raised a hand. A second fragment ignited beneath his feet — a shape the others had not seen. It did not belong to Ravh'Zereth. It did not pulse red.
It pulsed violet — a color that did not exist in this world until now for the fragment of key, which is the fragment of key of Nightroot.
> "I will not serve the demon. I will not revive the old flame."
> "I will surpass it."
Velgrin knelt and dipped one finger into the glyph's center. The ground cracked. The air hummed. Something answered.
> "I name it now… Ascension."
The fragment rose — and for a moment, the entire chapel felt weightless.
Somewhere in the void between realms, something woke.
---
Sid Arkwood couldn't breathe.
He was on his knees in the training chamber — alone.
The lights above flickered erratically, casting jagged shadows that danced like spirits.
He clenched his fists against the cold floor.
> "Ravh… Zereth…"
He hadn't said it aloud.
But the name had burned itself into him.
Etched behind his eyes.
Crawling beneath his skin.
> "You hear me now," came the voice. Not distant. Not loud.
Close.
> "Good."
Sid clutched his head. He could feel it pressing — the demon's will. Like a second mind forming under his own.
> "I'm not… yours," he whispered.
The demon laughed.
A rumble that tasted like sulfur and memory.
> "We will see."
---
Across the compound, alarms pulsed faintly.
Professor Nox stood in a chamber of glass and dark steel, staring at a display that hadn't lit up in decades.
It now shone blood-orange.
A key fragment — foreign. Not part of their archive.
But more disturbing than its shape… was its location , it's from the last site.
> "This isn't from Sid's core," he said quietly.
Aide officers scrambled around him, checking transmissions and magical interference spikes.
> "Where's Sid?" Nox asked.
> "Still in the chamber. Medically stable, but—"
> "No," Nox cut in. "He's not."
He tapped his communicator.
> "Sid. Pick up. Now."
No answer.
> "Sid, listen to me. Something has changed. You're not the only one burning anymore."
---
Sid staggered to his feet, breathing hard. The demon's voice faded… for now.
But something else stirred in its place — fainter, unfamiliar.
It wasn't Ravh'Zereth.
It was worse.
Like another presence watching from just beyond the veil, whispering in a tongue not meant for flame.
He collapsed against the wall.
> "What… is happening to me…"
His ring — the one that had appeared in the hospital — appeared once again. A new fragment shimmered briefly across its surface.
One he hadn't seen before.
One Nox had never shown him.
> "No…" Sid whispered. "There's another one."
He didn't know it yet.
But Velgrin had marked him.
And the collision had begun.
---