Screams echoed through the night like the wails of a dying world.
The fortress burned, its walls shattered by claw and flame. Smoke curled upward into the sky, blotting out the stars as if the heavens themselves could not bear to watch. Blood soaked the stone streets, mixing with the rain that poured from above in a merciless deluge. Bodies littered the roads..soldiers, mothers, children. All fallen. All silent now.
But deep within the collapsing stronghold, where fire hadn't yet swallowed the last remnants of life, a woman ran barefoot through the corridors.
Her name was Lira. A single mother. Her body was bruised, her legs shaking, but her arms clutched something far more precious than her pain..her son.
"Alarion," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please… just stay quiet. Just for a little longer."
The boy, no older than ten, whimpered into her shoulder, his small hands clinging to her neck. "M-Mama... where is everyone? What's happening? I heard screaming....."
"Hush, my love. It's okay. I've got you."
But it wasn't okay.
The walls groaned around them as another distant roar shattered the silence. The demons were closing in. Lira knew they would not stop until every last human in the stronghold was reduced to ash.
She burst through the door of a storeroom, eyes darting until she saw it,a reinforced barrel, one of the few they hadn't burned for fuel.
Her legs buckled for a moment. Her mind screamed at her not to do it.
But there was no time left.
Tears streamed down her face as she set Alarion down beside the barrel. The boy's lip trembled.
"Mama… what are you doing?"
She cupped his face, memorizing it with her eyes. "Listen to me, Alarion. I need you to be brave now, okay?"
His eyes welled with confusion. "Why are you crying?"
"Because I love you."
"No—no, no, no!" he screamed as she lifted him into the barrel. He kicked, thrashed, cried for her arms. "Mama, please! I don't want to go! Don't make me go!"
She held him one last time. Her tears fell onto his cheeks, mixing with his own.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "Forgive me."
She sealed the lid.
Outside, footsteps thundered closer. Voice dark, guttural, inhuman.
She pushed the barrel to the hidden chute behind the crates and gave it one final shove.
Down it went. Into the sea.
And then she turned to face the fire.
The ocean was merciless.
Waves rose like mountains, crashing against the barrel. Alarion screamed inside, every turn threatening to crush his small body. Rain slammed against the wooden lid. Salt burned his throat. His fingers were numb from gripping the barrel's edges.
For hours, the sea dragged him like a toy.
Until finally, when the stars returned, and the wind began to calm, the barrel struck something solid with a hollow crack.
Alarion gasped as the impact knocked the breath from him. The lid split open, and he was thrown into shallow, rocky water. The sky above was dark. His body ached, scraped raw from the barrel's splinters and the jagged rocks of the shore.
But he was alive.
Shivering and soaked, he staggered forward onto what seemed to be land,an island wrapped in mist and moonlight. Trees loomed around him, but what caught his attention was something further off.
A ship.
Or what was left of one.
It stood half-sunken into the beach, tilted at an angle, its sails torn and burned. Rust crept along its sides. Spears and broken arrows still jutted from the hull. Whatever battle had taken place here had ended long ago.
Yet something about it pulled at him.
Alarion limped toward it, blood dripping from his scraped knees and elbows. Something stung his leg suddenly...sharp, burning. He slapped it away reflexively. A bite mark throbbed behind his shin.
He didn't have time to dwell on it. The feeling in his chest grew stronger. A tug. A whisper. A call.
The ship's interior was damp and broken, filled with overturned crates and shattered barrels. Mold clung to the walls. But as he wandered deeper into the lower deck, his heart pounded harder.
Then he saw it.
A crate, alone in the darkness.
As he approached, a pressure began to build in his chest. The air grew heavy. His lungs tightened.
"H-Huh?" he wheezed, stumbling forward. His vision blurred. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
He tried to cry out, but his voice failed him.
His knees hit the floor with a dull thud.
It felt like someone was holding his nose shut, suffocating him from the inside. His hands clawed at his throat as the poison spread...was it the bite? The air? He couldn't tell.
His body thrashed once, hitting the crate.
It cracked open.
And something rolled out.
A crown.
Golden, ancient, engraved with symbols he couldn't understand. Twelve gemstones shimmered within it like tiny stars.
He felt his mind going blank , he couldn't move..the poison had already reached up to his head , one of his eyes had already shut down, and he could feel the other one about to do the same.
He was helpless there was nothing he could do he was going to die...but then he saw it from the corner of his eyes, a crown,it felt like it was calling to him , without thinking twice.
Alarion's hand moved on its own.
He placed the crown on his head.
And everything… exploded.
A wave of light burst from the ship, ripping through the hull like a silent scream. Wood flew. Dust rose. And Alarion's body lifted into the air, limp like a doll in a storm.
His eyes opened glowing with unnatural light. His mouth was frozen in a silent gasp.
Knowledge poured into his mind.
Not just memories.
Truths.
Languages, spells, blueprints of the universe. Names of gods. Rules of time. The very heartbeat of existence thundered in his ears.
His body shook violently. Blood ran from his nose. His heart was pounding far too fast.
Too much. Too much. Too much.
He wanted to scream, to cry for help, but his mouth wouldn't obey. He couldn't control his arms or legs. It felt like he was trapped in someone else's body.
Then, a thought.
"Make it stop. Please..make it stop."
Summoning all his will, he forced his hand upward. Inch by inch, muscle by muscle, he reached for the Crown.
His fingers wrapped around its edges.
With a desperate cry, he pulled.
The Crown slid off.
He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
He woke up hours later. The ship was quiet. The storm outside had faded into a whisper.
He blinked slowly, realizing his body didn't hurt anymore. The cuts were gone. The bite mark ..gone. Even the cold had left him.
The Crown lay nearby, glimmering faintly.
He stared at it for a long time.
And then, without a word, he picked it up… and locked it back inside the crate.
Some power was not meant to be touched.
Not again.
Not ever.