Is this the destiny carved for me? Is this what I dreamed of — to sit here, powerless, and watch my people burn?
Rhygan sat on the battlefield, kneeling and balancing himself with his sword. His weary eyes fixed on his sworn brother, Daemon. Blood pooled beneath him. The fire in his bow was fading — turning slowly to ash.
The air reeked of iron and smoke. Steel clashed in the distance, and the scream of chaos rose and fell across the battlefield.
"I told you from the beginning…" A shape emerged through the haze. "You stood on the wrong side, Rhygan." Smoke curled around his shoulders, and the glow of his weapon cut through the haze — a bow forged of lightning.
An Eldrin bow of lightning.
"Daemon was meant to stand with me. You forced an Eldrin to slay his own kin." He walked slowly toward Rhygan. "At what cost?" The bow in his hand shrieked with the fury of lightning.
"I will drown your demon lands. I will burn those who bow to darkness. I will end your time." His voice echoed across the battlefield.
Rhygan's breath rasped through his clenched teeth. His fingers tightened around the sword's handle.
"Choose your words carefully, Aragonn." His hand trembled with anger and grief. "My brother. My people. My… you took everything. For what — glory? Or greed?"
"Wrong." Aragonn didn't even flinch.
"I chose the path of gods — the people, the light, the right order. You chose darkness. You brought it here, Rhygan."
"Look around you… then say that again." Rhygan locked eyes with him.
"You've already lost." Aragonn raised his bow. Lightning snarled along the string, shrieking as if the storm itself had been bound to his will.
"I came here to end this — not to entertain your quarrels."
"VINĀSHAKA!!"
An arrow forged into being — violet, carved from storm. Bolts cracked down from it, ripping the ground apart, grinding stone to dust.
CRRRRAAACK!
He loosed it.
The shot split the sky wide; clouds convulsed. Purple veins spread like fractures through the horizon — then shattered. From the sky, a thousand bolts rained down.
The Rain of Lightning.
Mountains crumbled into sand. Men, women, and children were scorched to ash where they stood. The stench of charred flesh and smoke filled the air.
Rhygan closed his eyes. He couldn't bear the sight of a massacre. His jaw quivered, his breath ragged, his face trembling with rage he could no longer contain.
Then—
The silence after the storm.
"Is this what the gods call order?" Rhygan's face began to quiver.
Black threads coiled around Rhygan's sword — creeping from his arms, winding down to the blade's tip — then stabbing into the earth, piercing its heart.
Crrr…
A rumble stirred from the ground. Stones shivered, grinding against one another as the soil itself began to quake.
The tremor deepened, swelling with every breath.
Aragonn staggered, his footing breaking as the ground convulsed beneath him.
Rhygan opened his eyes.
BOOM.
A shockwave erupted outward. Smoke was torn apart, the sky swept clean in a single breath.
The blast struck Aragonn, hurling him back as he raised his bow in defense. Aragonn looked at him, and for the first time, doubt crossed his face.
Rhygan rose slowly. Darkness burned in his eyes, dark strings coiled in his arms. A half-broken arrow was lodged in his chest, shot from behind.
"Haven't died yet? Then die!" Aragonn's scream split the air.
His bow flared with blinding light; a new arrow forged into existence, the string glowing like molten wire.
"INDRAHĀRA!"
The arrow howled as it left the string — thunder and wind bound into a single storm, tearing the field apart as it flew.
He loosed the shot again.
Shing!
A slice—
A blade of shadow cleaved through the air, swallowing the light whole. The arrow shattered, its fragments dissolved into nothing. A ripple of darkness rolled outward — cold and vengeful.
Through the settling dust, a shape began to stir. A shadow rising.
The shape of a wolf.
"I knew it from the beginning." The voice rumbled. "Always… son of Indra."
"You think you can end my kin? You are not enough even to silence my sword."
Rhygan thrust the blade into the ground. The earth split open, veins of shadow racing outward, burrowing into the heart of the world.
"One with fire in his heart, with the will of Karma, will rise.
He will lift this sword, tear through the dark, and bind the world in unity.
An end to your shining glory."
His voice sank lower.
"That day, I will return.
And you will answer to the Sword.
The Sword of Karma."
The blade pulsed.
BOOM.
Not thunder. Not storm. But darkness itself.
It rolled across the battlefield in a tide — swallowing smoke, stone, and sky — until nothing remained but shadow.
--------------------
300 years later.
"Why does this night feel so heavy… The howling, the silence… such a bad omen."
Edward, heir of the Hawkbanes, stood upon the balcony. His hands were clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the far mountains.
Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
The cry tore through the hall. Edward turned and rushed toward the bedroom.
"It's a girl, Mr. Hawkbane," said Elina, the family doctor, her young smile gentle despite the strain of the night.
Edward sat beside his wife, Freya, slipping an arm around her shoulders. His eyes softened as they found the newborn resting in her arms. He even forgot to blink.
"Arya," he whispered, the name trembling on his lips.
Then, firmer: "Arya Hawkbane."
Edward bent forward and kissed the baby's forehead, then kissed Freya on her cheeks. Freya smiled faintly — exhausted yet radiant.
Time slipped by, and the door creaked open.
"I suppose I'm an uncle again," a voice called from the doorway. "So, is it a niece — or another nephew?"
"It's a niece, Barren," Freya answered, her voice soft and proud.
"Perfect. Is she asleep? Let me see her." He stepped into the room, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"Still waiting for the day someone calls me uncle. Any hope for that, Barren?" Edward chuckled, the weight on his face easing. His tone carried the familiar edge of teasing.
"Alright, alright — I get it. Ha! You just can't wait to see me suffer with a wi—"
Before he could finish, Freya's sharp glare cut him off.
Barren froze, then walked forward with exaggerated care, as if he were creeping into enemy territory. He bent over, peeking at the child.
"Oh… she's beautiful."
Silence lingered for a heartbeat.
"Probably wise if I leave before your wife kills me." He cleared his throat, muttering as he backed toward the door.
Whooooooohf.
Flap… flap…
A faint noise of wings echoed in the night, chased by the low and mournful cry of a wolf.
"Barren?" Edward's eyes narrowed. He sensed the shift in the air.
"Seems like trouble, brother." Barren's eyes were at the window.
"Freya, Elina — stay here. Don't leave this room until we return." Edward's tone sharpened into command.
The brothers strode out onto the balcony. In the same breath, their arms crossed and struck downward. A rush of wind burst beneath them, the air bending to their will.
With a surge, their bodies lifted — rising into the air, hurling upward against the earth.
They landed on the ground.
"Barren, left," Edward ordered, pointing.
With a blast of wind, Barren streaked off like a bullet. Edward walked toward the field behind the estate.
In the thick darkness of the night, something shifted. Edward stopped for a moment — then lightning flashed, revealing a shape.
A figure stood in that darkness, swallowing the night itself.
"Xorr…" Edward's eyes narrowed.
From the shadows rose a black giant. Its wings stretched wide, a wolf's head glinting faintly under the lightning—
A beast he knew too well.
Without another thought, he rushed forward like a bullet, landing straight in front of it.
But Xorr's legs buckled, muscles trembling beyond control. The great beast lurched, wings folding helplessly outward, and collapsed to the ground with a bone-shaking thud.
Grhhhhh…
A low growl rattled from Xorr's throat before breaking into ragged gasps.
Barren appeared at his side. His eyes didn't flinch from the sack strapped to the beast's flank. Dropping to one knee, he quickly loosened the knot.
Clang!
A sword slipped free from its side, striking the earth.
Barren reached for it. His fingers brushed the hilt, his eyes catching on the crest carved into the handle.
He froze. His whole body went rigid; he stood there like a stone.
Gluh… gluh… aaah…
The sound leaked from the sack — wet, suffocating, almost too small to be human.
Edward's chest pounded heavy, dread clawing its way up his spine. He knew. Even before the sack was opened — he knew.
Barren pulled it wide.
Inside—
A baby. A boy.
The infant's chest rose and fell in fragile rhythm, his breath uneven. Black hair clung damp across his brow. When his eyes flickered open, Edward felt the world tilt beneath him.
That gaze… too familiar. Too impossible. His mind stuttered.
"Barren…" Edward's voice cracked. "The sword."
Barren lifted it from the ground. Moonlight slid across the steel, catching on the crest carved into the hilt.
A red dragon.
Edward's breath caught. He lowered his head.
"He is dead, Barren." Edward closed his eyes.
"I know…" Barren's eyes went toward Xorr. "What happened, Xorr…" Barren walked toward its head.
The beast's gaze found him one last time. Slowly, its eyes drifted shut. A single tear slid down the black fur, falling to the soil like a final vow.
With a broken growl, the giant closed its eyes forever.
Barren touched its mane. The wound and blood in Xorr's body were gleaming in the lightning.
"The world never showed you kindness… yet you chose the right one to stand with. Xorr, the Black Guardian."
His voice was low as he gave his final words, his hand resting gently against the beast's face.
"Cover him. Lay him beneath the Ashwood. No one else must know." Edward's voice was sharp, yet trembling.
"I'll see to it. But the child?"
"I don't know…" Edward's voice wavered. "He sent this boy to me. I can't, and I won't break that faith."
For a long moment, Edward said nothing more.
Then he stood up, the boy cradled in one arm, the sword clutched in the other.
"I always wondered… what if we'd been blessed with twins? Maybe this is God Zye's answer — granting me that gift."
"Ed… are you sure? We are going against them. If this ever comes out, it could tear the whole thing apart. They won't back off."
"I know." Edward's gaze hardened, his grip firm on both child and blade. "We'll find a way."
Waaah… Waaah… Waaah….
"The cold's biting him," Edward muttered, already moving. "See to Xorr, then meet me."
One arm held the child. The other, the sword. The weight of both pressed against him like the world itself on his shoulders.
He walked toward the estate.
From within, faint lights flickered in the distance. He lowered his gaze to the boy.
The child's eyes were open. Even in the dark — they glowed.
And from the mountains, a howl split the night.
Not mourning. Not grief.
A celebration.
A welcome call… from the darkness.