The Elowyn winds had an unexplainable coldness to them that day.
Perched atop a hill of green grass, with boundless fields and swaying trees around him, Kaizen Veylor remained motionless. The horizon was colored in hushed pastels, with shafts of gold cutting through complacent clouds. To everyone else, it would have been a serene dawn — an ideal time. But not to Kaizen, who saw it as the tip of a blade slicing into the flesh of the world.
He breathed slowly, allowing the wind to sweep over his jet-black hair. His purple eyes, keen and otherworldly, gazed at the far horizon where mountains met the heavens.
That dream again.
For the third evening in succession, he'd witnessed fire — not fire that comforted hearths or roasted foods. No, it was a fire that shrieked, burned, destroyed. And at the heart of it all, there stood a throne of bones and ash, and a figure wrapped in darkness, with a crown of horns.
And in the mirror of those flames… Kaizen had glimpsed his own face. Grinning. Blazing. Transformed.
"Kaizen!" a voice called out behind him.
He spun around, hastily yanking his cloak hood over his head. Down the hill, on the edge of the wheat field, stood a tall, muscular man gripping a wooden practice spear. His hair was flecked with silver, but his body moved that of a man half his age.
Theron Veylor. His father.
"You're sulking again," Theron told him with a slight smile. "The wind won't respond to your questions, you know."
Kaizen smiled faintly. "Than the villagers, at least."
"Come," Theron called. "Training time."
Kaizen walked down the hill, boots crunching quietly on the dewy grass. He never felt… right during these lessons. Not that he didn't like training — he was rather proficient — but because somewhere inside of him, he knew something was off every time he grasped a weapon.
Like it was too familiar.
Like he'd held a sword before he'd even touched one.
They practiced in silence for the first thirty minutes. Kaizen moved with fluid efficiency — not flamboyant, but deliberate. Theron paused to correct him from time to time, but mostly he merely observed. Pride shone in his eyes, but something else as well.
Concern.
He's been paying closer attention to me these past few days… like he's waiting for something to occur.
After an hour, Theron lowered his spear and motioned for them to sit by the well nearby. The stone structure was old, overgrown with ivy, but still strong. Theron filled a tin cup and handed it to Kaizen.
"I've seen the way you've been lately," Theron said. "Not just distracted. Afraid."
Kaizen paused, then nodded. "The dreams. They're intensified now. I feel the warmth on my skin. I hear a voice. deep, ancient, yet familiar."
Theron's eyes narrowed. "What does it say?"
Kaizen avoided his gaze. "It calls me. 'Heir of the Abyss.'"
Theron's fist wrapped tightly around the cup.
"Did you ever ask yourself, Kaizen," Theron replied softly, "why we arrived in this village? Why I never allowed you to train in magic. but only blades and stealth?"
"Obviously I did," Kaizen replied. "But whenever I inquired, you—"
"I lied," Theron cut in. "To keep you safe."
Kaizen's breath caught.
Theron stood, moving slowly to the border of the forest. The trees creaked, sharing secrets only the wind could hear. When he turned around, his expression had altered — not angry, not frightened, but determined.
"There is something in you," he said, speaking softly. "Something older than us both. A bloodline that never should have been crossed. You were born with power, Kaizen — dark power. Dark and dangerous power."
"I… I don't know what you're talking about."
"You will," said Theron. "But not here. Not yet."
That evening, Kaizen sat by himself on the rooftop of their little house, looking up at the stars. The village was still, tucked into the protection of the cliffs and trees. Children played outside. Mothers prepared dinner. Old men spoke by the firepit.
Kaizen experienced none of that tranquility.
Heir of the Abyss.
His father had attempted to speak more, but something held him back. Fear, perhaps. Or shame.
At that moment, a strange feeling washed over him — like a ripple in the air.
second later, there was a distant horn blow.
Then another. Louder.
Then the screams.
Kaizen sprang from the rooftop. The villagers were already fleeing. Fire was starting to erupt at the far side of the forest. From the shadows beyond the trees, they emerged — distorted figures, fiery eyes, arms shrouded in dark mist.
Demons.
In their midst was a figure of great stature, dressed in black armor, with a blood-red crest pulsing on his chest. His voice boomed like thunder.
"Bring back to us the child of the Abyss, and your deaths will be quick!"
Kaizen stiffened.
Child of the Abyss… me?
Theron materialized at his side, sword in hand. But this was no training sword — this was a genuine weapon, hooded in shadows, the blade inscribed with glowing runes.
Kaizen had never seen his father so. menacing.
"Get inside!" Theron commanded. "Now!"
"But—"
"Do not debate!"
Kaizen followed. Behind the wall cracks, he stood watch. Demons infested the village. Flame devoured thatch roofs. Cries went up. And yet — Theron remained.
He danced with wind and lightning. Each arc of his sword took a life. But they continued. Ten. Twenty. Fifty.
He continued to fight.
Until the black knight emerged.
They clashed — steel against steel, shadow against shadow. The ground shook. Trees shattered. Kaizen could hardly breathe watching it.
Then — with a single stab — the knight's blade pierced Theron's stomach.
"No…" Kaizen whispered. "No…!"
He ran out, ignoring his fear. He reached his father just as he fell.
Theron coughed, blood staining his lips. "Kaizen… listen to me."
"I'm going to get help—!"
"No!" Theron took his hand. "You have to live. You have to uncover the truth… Your mother… the blade… the key is—"
He coughed once more, more faint now.
"Don't let him… win."
His hand ceased to move.
Kaizen shrieked.
And then — the world flipped.
The sky darkened. The fire went cold. The wind howled louder than a shout. And shadows around Kaizen rose — not from the demons, but him.
The black knight recoiled. "It's beginning…"
Kaizen's body lifted off the ground. His violet eyes turned bright with a crimson hue. Dark energy swirled around his arms like living flame.
He didn't feel anger.
He felt emptiness.
"You took him from me." he whispered. "Now I'll take everything."
The black flames erupted. The demons were engulfed, screaming as they burned into dust. The ground beneath Kaizen cracked and shattered.
For a moment… he was something else. Something terrible.
Then — it ended.
Kaizen fell.
Silence.
When he woke up, the sky was gray. Smoke crept into the morning air. The village was… destroyed. Nothing remains but ruins, ash, and memory.
His father's body was nowhere to be found.
And in the distance, standing atop a stone outcropping, the black knight stood over him.
"Soon," he whispered. "The heir will return home."
Then he disappeared.
Kaizen was alone on the hill where he had trained yesterday. His hands were scorched. His chest was constricted. And amidst the stillness after devastation, he breathed softly:
"I don't know who I am. but I'll find out."
He glared in the direction of the mountains.
"I'll find you, whoever you are. And when I do… I'll end you."
The wind whispered once more.
But with it, it had a voice.
Heir of the Abyss… your awakening has begun.
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