The sky had learned how to bleed.
It was not the gentle crimson of a setting sun nor the fleeting blush of twilight. This red was violent—alive. It pulsed like an open wound across the heavens, stretching from horizon to horizon, swallowing the blue that once comforted the world.
The air itself felt wrong.
Heavy.
Breath tasted like ash and iron.
Ashfall drifted slowly through the ruined streets like gray snow, settling upon shattered rooftops, broken statues, and the countless bodies that would never rise again.
Once, this place had been a thriving district of Valemyr—a city of towering white spires and golden banners that danced proudly in the wind. Merchants would laugh in its streets. Children would run beneath its archways. Mages would illuminate the night with harmless sparks of light for the joy of onlookers.
Now, it was silent.
Dead.
Collapsed buildings lay like the corpses of fallen giants. The great marble roads were split apart, jagged cracks spreading like veins across the earth. Entire sections of the city had simply ceased to exist, erased by forces no mortal army could ever hope to resist.
And above it all—
The Gate.
It hovered in the sky like a scar carved into reality itself.
A colossal circle of darkness, its edges flickering with crimson lightning. It twisted and churned, as if something on the other side was clawing, pushing, desperate to enter.
Desperate to consume.
A low, guttural roar echoed from within it, reverberating through the bones of the world.
Not the roar of a beast.
But of something far older.
Far crueler.
Far more hungry.
Beneath that dying sky, amidst the ruins and the dead, a boy ran.
His breath came in ragged bursts, each inhale burning his lungs. His legs trembled with exhaustion, but he did not stop.
He could not stop.
Behind him, the sound of claws scraping against stone echoed through the empty streets.
Closer.
Always closer.
"Run…!"
The voice was distant now, fading.
His father's voice.
Or perhaps only his memory.
He did not dare look back.
He did not want to see it again.
Did not want to see those burning eyes, that twisted shape that should never have existed in this world.
The boy stumbled, his foot catching on broken stone. He fell hard, his palms scraping against the rough ground. Pain shot through his arms, but he forced himself up immediately, ignoring it.
Pain meant he was alive.
Alive meant he could still run.
And running meant—
He might still survive.
"M–Mother…"
His voice was barely a whisper, stolen by the dead wind.
Somewhere behind him, buried beneath the ruins of their home, she lay unmoving. Her body had been warm when he last touched her.
Warm.
But she would not wake.
No matter how much he screamed.
No matter how much he begged.
A shadow moved behind him.
The boy froze.
Slowly—against every instinct screaming within him—he turned.
It stood at the end of the ruined street.
Tall.
Too tall.
Its body was lean, elongated, its limbs bending at unnatural angles. Blackened flesh stretched tightly over its frame, as if it had been burned and never healed. Jagged horns curved backward from its skull, and its face—
It had no face.
Only a smooth surface of obsidian flesh, split by a single vertical line.
That line opened.
And from within it—
A glowing red eye stared directly at him.
Ancient.
Intelligent.
Hungry.
The creature tilted its head.
Curious.
As if examining something fragile.
Something insignificant.
The boy's legs refused to move.
His body refused to obey.
Fear had rooted him in place, deeper than bone.
This was death.
Not the quiet death of sleep.
Not the peaceful death of old age.
This was violent.
Absolute.
Final.
The creature stepped forward.
Its clawed foot crushed stone like dust.
Another step.
Closer.
The boy's vision blurred.
His heart pounded so violently he thought it might burst.
He did not want to die.
He did not want to die.
He did not want—
The world trembled.
Not with the creature's movement.
But with something else.
Something greater.
Something vast.
A sound echoed—not through the air, but through existence itself.
A voice without words.
A presence without form.
Ancient.
Endless.
Watching.
The red sky flickered.
The Gate above pulsed violently.
And for the briefest moment—
The creature stopped.
Its head turned upward, as if sensing something it did not understand.
Something it did not control.
The boy did not understand it either.
But he felt it.
Felt it deep within his bones.
Like an ember, buried beneath ash.
Waiting.
Watching.
Remembering.
The creature's eye returned to him.
The moment passed.
Its claw rose.
Death descended.
And everything went black.
------------------------------------
Somewhere beyond sight.
Beyond flesh.
Beyond fear.
Something stirred.
And the ember waited.