The forest below the cliff was still.
Too still.
Birds had fled hours ago. Small animals cowered beneath roots. Even the wind seemed uncertain whether it should move.
Five figures pushed through the underbrush — scouts from a minor regional faction, the Grey Lantern Syndicate, tasked with investigating the ocean disturbance. They were trained, hardened, and quietly respected in their region.
None of that mattered now.
Their leader, Sereth Damar, moved first. He was a rune-carver, young but competent, with a blade etched in minor combat glyphs. The others followed behind him: a healer, a tracker, and two novice magic users.
They had heard the rumors.
They didn't believe them.
They should have.
---
THE FIRST SIGN
Sereth paused, raising a clenched fist.
"Stop."
The group froze.
The forest floor had changed.
A circular patch of soil was unnaturally smooth — polished, as if something massive had recently landed and dragged its tail.
"What made that?" the healer whispered.
The tracker knelt, touching the ground. His fingers trembled. "Not natural. Not animal. The pressure here… gods, it's like a building fell on this spot."
One of the novices stepped forward. "Maybe a large spirit—"
A shadow eclipsed them.
Not a passing cloud.
Not a bird.
A shadow with weight, heavy enough that their instincts fired at once.
Sereth slowly lifted his head.
His breath caught.
"Everyone. Do not move."
Above them, perched silently among the upper branches like a gargoyle sculpted from nightmares…
…was the Dreadwing Leviathan.
Its skeletal wings folded close, its elongated skull angled downward, hollow eye sockets burning with dull red light.
The novices stumbled back in terror.
Sereth gripped his blade, swallowing hard. "A… a dragon?"
"No dragon looks like that," whispered the healer.
The beast did not roar.
It did not screech.
It simply watched.
And that was worse.
Because a creature that powerful did not need to make noise to threaten.
Sereth swallowed and whispered:
"Whatever you do… don't—"
The Dreadwing's head snapped downward an inch.
Sereth froze.
"—move."
But it was already too late.
Branches rustled behind them.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The scouts turned—
—only to see a woman standing on a low branch, body relaxed, arms draped casually behind her back.
Nyxara.
Playful eyes. Soft smile. Unhinged amusement hovering around her like perfume.
"Well, well," she purred. "Strangers in my yard."
The novices screamed spells.
Nyxara flicked her wrist.
Violet glyphs snapped into existence in the air — not runes, not magic circles, but something else entirely. Something sharper. Something hungrier.
The spells vanished mid-flight.
The novices stared, confused.
Nyxara smirked. "Cute."
Sereth stepped protectively in front of them. "We don't want trouble."
Nyxara tilted her head. "That's a shame."
She drifted off the branch — not jumped, not fell — drifted, landing softly as though the world bent around her movement.
Her eyes roamed the group.
"Which one of you saw the sea change?"
Sereth didn't answer.
Nyxara sighed, disappointed. "You know, if you lie to me, I get bored."
She stepped closer.
"And when I get bored…"
The forest darkened around her. The shadows deepened, thickening like tar.
"…things break."
Sereth lifted his blade. "Please. We're not here as enemies. We only came to investigate."
Nyxara smiled sweetly.
"Oh, darling. That's the problem."
A deeper voice spoke behind them.
"It wasn't your business."
The scouts whipped around.
Rhaziel stood on the forest floor as if he had always been there — tall, silent, a figure carved from winter ice. His presence drained the warmth from the air.
Sereth stumbled back. "W-when did you—"
Rhaziel ignored the question and studied the group with cold indifference.
"You should turn around," he said softly, "and walk away."
The group didn't move.
Rhaziel's eyes hardened.
"You didn't turn around."
Nyxara giggled.
---
THE DEMONSTRATION
Rhaziel raised a hand.
Not high.
Not dramatically.
Just a small, casual movement — as if brushing dust from the air.
Reality responded.
A thin line of black energy sliced across the clearing. It whispered as it moved, like wind slipping between two blades.
The scouts felt the cut before they saw it.
Sereth dropped to one knee, gasping. His blade shattered in his hand.
The healer's protective glyphs disintegrated.
The novices collapsed, magic snuffed out like candles.
The tracker stared at the glowing wound that had appeared across his chest — a clean, precise mark that hadn't spilled blood yet simply because reality hadn't caught up.
The forest fell utterly silent.
Nyxara clapped slowly.
"Mmm… that's always fun to watch."
Rhaziel let his hand fall.
"You trespassed," he said simply. "You saw what you shouldn't."
Sereth forced himself to stand, panting. "We… w-we didn't know—"
"Knowledge doesn't excuse consequence."
Nyxara sauntered around them, tracing circles with her finger in the air. "But I have a question before you die."
The scouts stiffened.
Nyxara leaned close to Sereth, staring directly into his eyes.
"Did anyone else follow you?"
Sereth hesitated.
The hesitation was fatal.
Nyxara sighed. "I'll take that as a yes."
She snapped her fingers.
The shadows under the scouts surged upward like tendrils, wrapping around their feet and ankles. They dragged them toward the clearing's center, pinning them with impossible weight.
The novices screamed.
The healer begged.
The tracker wept.
Sereth stayed quiet — but even he trembled.
Nyxara kissed his cheek.
"You should have stayed home."
The shadows tightened.
---
THE END OF THE SCOUTS
Rhaziel raised his hand again.
Five shadows rose behind the scouts — mirror silhouettes of each victim, tall and featureless.
The silhouettes touched their heads.
The forest cracked with five simultaneous snaps.
And then…
Silence.
No gore.
No blood.
Just… silence.
Their bodies crumbled to ash.
Nyxara clapped enthusiastically. "Good warm-up."
Rhaziel's coat fluttered as he turned away. "Dispose of the remnants."
Nyxara snapped her fingers, and a ripple of shadow washed through the clearing, erasing all trace of the scouts' existence.
Not even a footprint remained.
---
THE GIRL WITH UNSTABLE POTENTIAL
Far from the forest, in a dusty training ground outside a modest settlement, a young woman swung a staff in wild arcs.
Her name was Kaeva Ren.
She had potential.
Raw, violent, overwhelming potential.
But her own faction ignored her — too unstable, too emotional, too unpredictable.
She struck a post.
The post exploded into shards.
She stared at her hands.
Black sparks danced between her fingers.
"I can't control it…" she whispered. "Why can't I control it?"
Her breath shook as another surge of power rushed through her veins. She fell to her knees.
Her faction elders had told her she was flawed.
A risk.
A danger.
Too volatile to train properly.
She believed them.
Until the air in front of her shimmered.
Two figures stepped out of nothing.
Rhaziel.
Nyxara.
Kaeva froze.
Nyxara flashed a wicked smile. "Hello, little storm."
Rhaziel's eyes examined her instability, her potential, her desperation.
"You don't belong here," he said.
Her voice trembled. "Who… who are you?"
Nyxara crouched, tilting her head. "The ones who aren't afraid of what you could become."
Kaeva blinked. "Become?"
Rhaziel extended a hand.
"You want control.
You want strength.
You want recognition."
Her breath trembled.
"I… yes."
"Come with us," Rhaziel said. "And you'll never be ignored again."
Nyxara whispered in her ear:
"And you'll never fear your own power again."
Kaeva's heart pounded.
"I'll… I'll go."
Rhaziel nodded once.
The shadows swallowed them all.
---
RETURN TO THE UNSEEN CITADEL
Kaeva stumbled as she followed them into the darkness — a space that twisted but did not confine, expanded but did not show its edges.
"Where are we…?" she whispered.
"The Unseen Citadel," Nyxara crooned. "Home."
"For us," Rhaziel added. "And for those worthy."
Kaeva swallowed as she looked around. The walls pulsed softly. The air hummed. The sigils carved into the floor seemed alive.
She felt power here — deep, ancient, impossible.
Nyxara traced a finger under Kaeva's chin. "Ready for the ritual?"
Kaeva hesitated. "What… what does it do?"
Rhaziel approached the center platform. The tri-fold rune glowed blood-red.
"It removes your limits."
Nyxara grinned. "And replaces them with ours."
Kaeva's heart thundered.
She stepped toward the platform.
Rhaziel began to speak the first words of the ritual — a tongue this world was never meant to hear.
Nyxara laughed softly, pleased.
Outside, in the forest…
The Dreadwing Leviathan roared.
And the world felt the tremor of a war that had not yet begun.