The morning in Starveil Garden shimmered like a fragile dream, suspended at the edge of reality. Sunlight poured through the canopy of argent leaves, scattering over crystalline streams that twisted between stones. Each ripple caught the light, reflecting fragments of blue that danced like shards of glass. Flowers glimmered faintly, petals glowing as though infused with starlight, swaying to a melody only the wind could hear.
Kael Draven lay on his back atop the soft grass, hands folded behind his head, staring up at drifting clouds. Shapes shifted lazily—dragons, ships, distant fortresses he might have explored someday. His gaze softened as he glanced sideways at Lira Veyne, sitting cross-legged beside him. A woven basket sat between them, filled with slices of sweetfruit arranged meticulously on a silver plate.
"You're not even helping," Lira said, a strand of golden hair falling into her face as she scowled—but it lacked conviction.
Kael grinned without moving. "I'm providing moral support. Very essential work."
"Moral support doesn't fill stomachs," she replied, rolling her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"It fills hearts," he said, eyes returning to the clouds. "Totally different department."
Her smile lingered, but it was tinged with exasperation. "You'd be a terrible soldier if you ever joined the guard."
Kael pushed himself upright lazily. "I'll have you know my sword instructor says I'm talented. 'Recklessly promising,' he called me."
"That sounds like an insult," Lira said, laughing softly.
"Maybe. But it still has 'promising.' That counts."
Her laugh was light and clear, weaving through the garden like a gentle song. Kael felt a pang of warmth—moments like this were fleeting, delicate, like the morning mist settling over the streams. He often imagined grand adventures: saving kingdoms, dueling monsters, earning songs sung in his honor. And yet, here in the garden, nothing else seemed to matter.
He looked at her carefully, noting the serenity in her gray eyes. "When I'm a knight," he said, voice low and earnest beneath the teasing lilt, "I'll make sure you never have to worry about anything. I'll protect you, Lira."
She tilted her head. "From what, exactly?"
He paused, mock solemnity taking over his grin. "Even if demons attack."
Her laughter rang out, light and bright, shaking her head. "Demons? You've been reading too many of your father's scrolls."
Kael shrugged. "The world might not be as peaceful as we think."
Her smile softened, but there was a flicker of something he couldn't place—wistfulness, perhaps. "I don't need a knight, Kael. I just want to heal people… make the world gentler. Maybe that's my kind of strength."
He reached over and plucked a glowing flower from the grass, tucking it behind her ear. "Then I'll protect that kindness."
Her cheeks warmed. "You always say things like that, then ruin them by grinning."
"Can't help it," he said, grinning anyway.
They ate in quiet harmony—sweetbread, honeyed fruit, and the last of the honey wine Lira had filched from her uncle's cellar. The air carried the scent of starbloom petals, mingling with the sunlight and the soft song of the stream. For a few precious moments, everything was perfect.
And then it wasn't.
A faint vibration trembled through the ground. At first, Kael dismissed it as a trick of the light, a natural tremor from the river nearby. But Lira froze, her hand halfway to her cup.
"Did you feel that?" she whispered.
Kael frowned. "Probably just—"
A deep rumble cut him off.
The crystalline stream beside them shivered, its surface fracturing like glass. Kael rose instinctively, scanning the horizon. The azure sky—once flawless and serene—was now marred by thin veins of red light, creeping outward like veins across a pale corpse.
Lira's hand gripped his arm. "Kael… what is that?"
A crack tore across the heavens, sharp and resonant, widening with every heartbeat. Scarlet lightning crawled through it, illuminating the world in unnatural bursts. The air thickened, dense with pressure, as if the world itself held its breath.
Kael swallowed hard. "We should go."
Another tremor shook the garden. Trees swayed violently; petals scattered like frightened sparks. The rift pulsed—once, twice—and then came the sound.
It was not thunder. Not rain. Not wind.
It was older. Primal. Ancient. A roar that resonated deep inside his bones, echoing through Aeloria as though the world itself were breaking.
Lira's grip tightened. "Kael…"
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I'm here. It's okay."
Below the scar in the sky, the sunlight dimmed, bleeding into a red gloom. For a moment, the garden fell utterly silent. Then the roar returned, deeper and more terrible—a sound filled with hatred, hunger, and inevitability.
The sky bled.
A wave of heat washed over them, causing Lira to stumble. Kael caught her, heart hammering. "Run!" he shouted, though no direction seemed safe.
From the horizon came another sound—bells tolling, ancient and foreboding, crying out over the valley as if heralding the end of all things.
Kael turned, desperate for guidance. And then he saw him—his father.
Eldrin Draven stood beneath the arch of a willow, robes disheveled, eyes wide with urgency. For the first time in years, the old mage looked… afraid.
"Kael!" Eldrin shouted, voice cutting through the roar. "Find your mother—"
The words were swallowed by the tearing sky.
Kael's chest tightened. His mind screamed, helpless against the truth.
Even if demons attack.
It had been a joke.
Now it was a curse.
The crimson rift widened, and somewhere beyond it, Kael sensed a presence watching—ancient, vast, and indifferent. The wind carried the scent of brimstone, of blood, and of worlds crumbling.
Kael's fingers dug into the grass. His promise felt fragile, meaningless against the coming storm. But despite the fear, a spark ignited deep within him—something resolute, stubborn, unwilling to surrender.
The garden was no longer a place of peace. It was the threshold to a world that had forgotten mercy. And Kael, even unready, would have to step into it.
The red fracture in the sky widens, light pouring like blood. A demonic roar shakes Aeloria. Eldrin stands against the coming storm, and somewhere beyond the rift, something ancient awakens… watching.