Eldris stood quiet beneath the fading light of dusk. From the high walls of the citadel, Elian Solvain gazed out at the vast horizon, his arms crossed, his mind restless. Below, the city carried on as if war did not loom on its borders, as if the Veil was not on the brink of collapse.


    "You’ll burn a hole through the horizon if you stare any harder."


    Elian turned to see Kael Solvain, his uncle, leaning against the stone battlements. His usual smirk played across his lips, though his eyes carried something deeper—something that didn’t match his easy demeanor.


    "Shouldn’t you be training the city’s defenses?" Elian asked, turning back to the view.


    Kael scoffed. "I have. The city is ready. The real question is, are you?"


    Elian tensed. "I should be out there. With them."


    Kael studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "And there it is. That same Solvain stubbornness."


    "It’s not stubbornness," Elian muttered. "Ilara and Varrian are prisoners. My father is marching into enemy territory. And I’m—"


    "Here," Kael finished. "Where you’re needed."


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Elian turned sharply. "Needed? I’m supposed to be fighting. Instead, I’m babysitting walls."


    Kael’s smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. "You think war is just about swinging a sword? You think charging into battle makes you strong?"


    Elian clenched his fists. "It’s better than doing nothing."


    Kael exhaled, his expression unreadable. "You remind me of myself, you know. Once, I thought like you. Thought power alone made me who I was. Thought I could master it just by willing it so. But power… has a price."


    Elian met his gaze. "And you were afraid to pay it?"


    Kael’s smirk returned, but it was cold. "No. I paid it. And it nearly consumed me."


    Silence stretched between them.


    "We are Solvains, Elian. We don’t get to just be warriors. We are something… different. Something heavier."


    Elian shook his head. "I never asked for that."


    Kael chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Neither did I. Neither did your father. But it doesn’t care what we want. It just is. And sooner or later, you’ll have to decide what that means for you."


    Elian turned away, staring back at the city. "And what if I don’t want to be ‘something more’?”


    Kael’s voice was quieter this time. "Then you’ll never be ready for what’s coming."


    Elian scoffed, shaking his head. "What’s coming?"


    Kael didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his gaze to the sky. And that’s when it happened.


    The air around them suddenly shifted. The world seemed to exhale, as if reality itself was holding its breath.


    Then, the sky ripped apart.


    A jagged tear, lined with writhing darkness and crimson fire, split the air just beyond Eldris’ walls. The very ground trembled beneath its presence, and a suffocating wave of energy crashed over the city like a storm.


    From the abyssal void, a figure stepped forward.


    Isaroth.


    Clad in blackened armor, his silver hair untouched by the wind, his eyes burned with a cold, merciless fire. Behind him, the portal widened, and from it, a legion of demons poured forth—twisted, snarling creatures of the abyss, their howls breaking the night’s silence.


    Kael’s smirk was gone, his stance shifting. "Well, Elian. You wanted action? Here it is."


    Elian stepped forward, eyes locked on the nightmare unfolding before them.


    The battle for Eldris had begun.