Re open

The Journey Home – A Return to Solara

The night was dark, but Draemir lit the way.

A soft yet strong golden glow radiated from his body, illuminating the path forward.

The outside world—the lands beyond Solara—were dangerous, unpredictable, and filled with mutations unknown to even Harran's horrors.

And so, as the God of the Sun, Draemir took no chances.

His presence itself was a shield.

His light repelled the darkness.

And so—they walked.

Through ruins. Through forests twisted by infection.

Through silent fields where no birds sang, where the only sound was the distant growl of things unseen.

The journey was long.

Days passed.

But Draemir never wavered.

And behind him, the people followed.

They walked not just toward Solara—but toward a new life.

The Fall of the Bazaar – The Colonel's Wrath

Meanwhile, in Villedor, those who had stayed behind paid the price.

The Renegades had been watching. Waiting.

The moment Draemir left… they struck.

They stormed the Bazaar, overwhelming the remaining survivors.

Before anyone could react, it was already too late.

Screams. The sound of struggle. The thud of fists. The clash of steel.

Those who had refused to follow Aiden were now prisoners.

Bound. Forced to their knees.

Their fate? Left in the hands of the Colonel.

He would drag them into the darkness.

He would pry every ounce of knowledge from them.

By any means necessary.

And if they refused to speak?

They wouldn't leave alive.

The Arrival at the Sanctuary

At last—after days of travel—they arrived.

The sewer entrance to Solara.

The place where their old life ended… and a new one began.

As they entered the dimly lit tunnels, the first thing they saw were figures in the dark.

Monsters. Guards. Sentinels.

A Volatile Demolisher, standing like a towering statue.

Daywalkers, positioned along the walls, watching. Waiting.

But the moment Draemir stepped forward…

They moved aside.

Not with hostility, but with obedience.

A silent acknowledgment.

The God of the Sun had returned.

And then—they reached the sanctuary.

The Celebration of Return

Inside, the cult members had been waiting.

The moment Draemir entered, a wave of energy filled the room.

Excitement. Anticipation.

And when they saw him—alive, victorious, and carrying the decapitated body of the Night Hunter in his grip—

They rejoiced.

A ceremonial cheer filled the air.

Their voices rose in praise, a rhythmic chant in honor of their leader.

And then—they bowed.

A display of devotion. Respect. Gratitude.

Draemir:

"Alright, alright… It's alright…"

The celebration softened.

The cult members stepped forward, speaking eagerly.

They told him of their work. Of their dedication. Of how they used what little remained of the sacred smoke to keep the infected under control.

But now—the reserves were running low.

They had enough for today. Maybe tomorrow.

After that…

Nothing.

Draemir:

"…Let's stop with that."

The room fell silent.

The cultists exchanged glances. Some confused, some worried.

Draemir:

"I think the infected have had enough of the blessing. They are under control. But that is something I must work on… personally."

A pause.

Then, his golden eyes turned to the outsiders.

Draemir:

"May you please take these outsiders? Show them Aurenshaven. Show them what Solara has to offer."

"After everything they have gone through… let's give them the life they deserve."

The cultists nodded immediately.

Without hesitation, they turned to the survivors—who still looked uncertain, overwhelmed by all they had seen.

The Tour of Aurenshaven – A Ritual of Welcome

As Draemir continued forward, leaving the room with the Daywalkers and the Volatile Demolisher following behind him, the cultists prepared.

This wasn't just a tour.

It was a sacred ceremony.

A ritual of transition—from the old world to the new.

The outsiders were guided through the halls, but not as mere visitors.

No.

They were blessed.

The golden-blue smoke filled the air, drifting from ceremonial artifacts swung gently by the cultists.

Every step was deliberate. Every action, sacred.

This was not just a new home.

This was a rebirth.

The Village of Aurenshaven – A Place of Peace

As they stepped outside the sanctuary—

The first thing they saw… was light.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky with hues of gold and amber.

And before them—

Aurenshaven.

The village stood untouched by ruin.

A place clean, well-kept, and thriving in a way the outside world had long forgotten.

The streets were clear, without bodies, without rot.

The houses stood strong, reinforced with careful, thoughtful design.

And the people…

They walked without fear.

Children played in the fields. Farmers tended to crops.

There was no hunger. No war. No chaos.

This was not just survival.

This was life.

The cultists spoke as they walked, explaining in solemn, reverent tones.

Cultist:

"This is Aurenshaven. The first of Solara's lands, a place untouched by the infection's hunger."

"Here, the sun provides. And under the watch of the God of the Sun, there is no darkness."

The Fields – Where Life Thrives

They were led past the fields.

Golden crops stretched across the land, vibrant, strong.

The air carried the scent of fresh earth and growth.

Cultist:

"These fields were once barren. A land like any other, consumed by ruin. But the light of our god has allowed it to flourish."

"Here, we grow not only for sustenance, but for the future. A future where we are no longer bound by fear of starvation."

The newcomers stared, some still struggling to believe.

In Villedor?

This would have been impossible.

Here?

It was real.

The Protectors of Solara – The Daywalkers

Then, they were led to the outer edges of the village.

And there—

They saw them.

Daywalkers.

Lined along the outskirts, watching. Guarding.

Their bodies bore golden veins, glowing faintly with the remnants of absorbed sunlight.

They did not attack. They did not move aggressively.

They simply stood. Silent. Ever vigilant.

Cultist:

"These are the protectors of Solara."

"Once mindless hunters of the night, they have been blessed. They have been reborn."

"Under the watchful hand of the God of the Sun, they now guard, instead of hunt."

A few survivors exchanged glances, still uneasy.

But even they couldn't deny it.

These were Volatiles.

Yet… they did not attack.

And that alone?

Was miraculous.

The Final Words of Welcome

At last, the cultists stood before the survivors.

The tour was over.

Now—

It was time for them to choose.

Cultist:

"You have seen the light of Solara."

"You have seen the gifts it provides. The peace it offers."

"You may still carry doubt. You may still carry fear. That is expected. The old world does not release its grip easily."

"But here… if you accept the light, if you embrace what has been given… you will never need to fear again."

The cultists stepped back.

And now—

The survivors had one last choice.

Would they embrace the new world?

Or would they cling to the old?

The Whispered Doubts and the Unanswered Questions

A heavy silence lingered in the air.

The survivors stood motionless, their faces carrying a mix of wonder, disbelief, and unease.

The things they had just seen, just heard—

They shouldn't have been possible.

And yet—

Here they were.

In a place untouched by ruin.

With crops thriving. With infected standing as guardians instead of monsters.

With a new life offered to them… freely.

It was a lot to take in.

And so—the murmurs began.

The First Doubts – Can This Be Real?

"This is insane…"

"We've spent years struggling to survive, and here they are—thriving like none of it ever happened."

"I don't get it… why is this place untouched? How did it stay like this while the rest of the world collapsed?"

"I feel like I walked into another world."

Some stood staring at the Daywalkers, their glowing veins and calm posture unsettling.

"Those are Volatiles… actual Volatiles. Just standing there."

"How are they not ripping us apart? How did they… change?"

"They don't even growl at us. They don't even look hungry."

"This is… unnatural."

Others were frozen in front of the fields, watching the crops sway gently in the wind.

"This can't be real. This place shouldn't exist."

"Why doesn't the infection destroy this land like everywhere else?"

"It's almost like… the virus avoids this place."

The Questions About Draemir – Who Is He?

Then came the real questions.

"What about him? What about Draemir?"

"How did he become… this?"

"How does he have this power?"

"I've never seen anything like him before… what is he?"

The cultists listened, standing calmly as the survivors hesitated before asking the most important question.

"Where did he come from?"

A brief pause.

Then—one of the cult members finally spoke.

The Cult's Answer – The Myth of the God of the Sun

The cultists exchanged glances before responding—not with hesitation, but with certainty.

For them—there was no mystery.

For them—the answer had already been written.

Cultist:

"Draemir came as it was foretold. As the Mother had spoken before her passing."

The survivors listened intently.

Cultist:

"Before he stepped foot in this land, the Mother—our guide before him—spoke of a warrior."

"A warrior who would emerge from the darkness… but not be bound by it."

"One who would be both human and infected—neither, yet both."

"She spoke of him before she ever met him. She knew of his coming, before he himself knew his path."

The survivors looked at one another, uneasy.

Some still wanted more answers.

"But what was he before this? What was he before Solara?"

The cultist simply shook their head.

Cultist:

"What he was before does not matter. What he has become—that is what matters."

"Draemir is not like the infected you know."

"He is not like the humans you once lived among."

"He is something… greater."

"So you're telling me he just… became this? He just turned into a god?"

"That's not how the world works. That's not how the virus works."

The cultist's voice did not waver.

Cultist:

"He did not become a god. He was chosen to be one."

"The Mother spoke of him before he knew his own fate. She saw what was to come, long before it happened."

"And when he arrived in her presence, she embraced him. She guided him. And when she left this world, she left it in his hands."

"Then why did he never leave? Why not help the rest of the world?"

Cultist:

"Because the world does not seek salvation."

"The world outside is consumed by war, by greed, by the endless fight for power."

"Solara is not a war to be won. It is a sanctuary to be preserved."

The survivors fell silent.

Because deep down… they knew the cultist wasn't wrong.

The Last Doubts – To Stay or Not?

More whispers.

More uncertainty.

Some still couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Others had already made up their minds.

"I don't care if I don't understand it. I'm not going back."

"This place is real. It's safe. That's all I need to know."

"It's better than what we had. That's enough."

Others?

They still weren't sure.

"I just… I don't know if I can trust it yet."

"How do I know this isn't just another lie? Another false promise?"

"What if there's something they're not telling us?"

But one thing was clear.

No one was turning back now.

They had come too far.

They had seen too much.

Whether they believed or not…

They had already stepped into Solara.

And their decision was no longer if they would leave—

But if they would embrace it.

The Invitation to the God of the Sun

The cultists stood still, their robes swaying slightly in the soft breeze. Their faces were unreadable, their presence both calming and unnerving at the same time.

Then, one of them stepped forward.

Cultist:

"If you truly desire to know about the God of the Sun, you must seek him… and wait for his answer."

"He will be at night, in the center of Aurenshaven—standing atop the fountain at the heart of the village."

"You will be able to ask freely, without fear or concern, for he is a kind God."

The survivors shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances.

Some still had too many questions.

Some still had too many doubts.

But now… they had an opportunity.

The Cult Departs – The Survivors Are Left Alone

Then, without warning, the cultists turned away.

They began walking, their ceremonial robes flowing behind them.

Their pace was slow, deliberate—almost ritualistic.

As they moved, one of them spoke once more, their voice carrying through the air.

Cultist:

"We will begin preparing the ceremony for this night."

"Feel free to walk in Solara without fear."

"And when the night arrives… go to the center of Aurenshaven."

The finality in their words was absolute.

Then—they were gone.

They did not look back.

They did not hesitate.

And now…

The survivors were alone.

The Murmurs of the Outsiders – Uncertainty Grows

As soon as the cultists disappeared, the whispers returned.

"That's it? They just… left us?"

"They really believe all of this… like it's fact."

"He's a kind god? What does that even mean?"

"This is insane. This feels insane."

"What kind of 'ceremony' are they talking about?"

Some were skeptical.

Some were curious.

Some were genuinely intrigued.

And then—

A blur of motion.

Something fast. Something unnatural.

Before anyone could react—

A Daywalker appeared.

The Daywalker's Inspection – The Silent Judgment

The creature moved with eerie precision.

Not stalking.

Not attacking.

It was studying.

Its glowing golden veins pulsed softly as it moved, weaving between the survivors.

Its razor-sharp claws twitched slightly, its predatory gaze scanning each individual.

The survivors froze, unable to do anything but stand still under its scrutiny.

It checked them all.

One by one.

Eyes locking onto each of them.

And then—it nodded slightly.

As if it had approved.

As if it had judged them worthy.

But then—it stopped.

The Daywalker's Disgust – A Mark of Rejection

Its gaze landed on the Peacekeepers.

And instantly—everything changed.

The air grew tense.

Its glowing golden pupils narrowed.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated in its throat—not aggressive, but clearly filled with distaste.

And then—

It leaned forward.

It observed them carefully.

And without warning—it spit.

A thick, golden-blue saliva landed directly on their vests, their makeshift armor—right over their Peacekeeper insignias.

The golden liquid spread slowly, covering the Peacekeeper logo.

And then—it changed.

The shape morphed, as if melting and reforming…

And when it settled—the golden sun's mask was now imprinted upon them.

A silent declaration.

A forced replacement.

The Peacekeeper emblem? Erased.

Replaced with the mark of the God of the Sun.

Only then did the Daywalker nod again—this time with finality.

And without another movement—it turned.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared—it was gone.

Back to the shadows.

Back to watching. Guarding. Waiting.

The Murmurs Return – The Survivors' Reactions

The moment the Daywalker vanished, the survivors erupted into whispers again.

Some in shock. Some in fascination. Some in deep discomfort.

"Did… did that just happen?"

"What the hell was that about?"

"Did it just brand them?"

"I don't like this. I really don't like this."

"They really hate the Peacekeepers, huh?"

The Peacekeepers looked at each other, uneasily wiping at the spit-covered symbols on their vests.

But the mark did not come off.

The golden sun remained.

Permanently placed over what once was their own identity.

Some survivors stepped away from the Peacekeepers, watching them with new wariness.

Some thought of what this could mean.

"Are they even still Peacekeepers anymore?"

"What if this is a warning?"

"What if they don't have a choice but to follow Draemir now?"

Others were far more intrigued.

"Maybe it's a blessing."

"Maybe it means they've been accepted, whether they like it or not."

"Whatever it was… that thing didn't attack us. That has to mean something."

But one thought remained at the forefront of everyone's mind.

Tonight.

Would they find the answers they sought?

Or would they leave with even more questions?

The Merchant Rails – A Path Reopened

The darkened tunnel stretched ahead, a remnant of the old world's railways—now repurposed into a vital part of Solara's infrastructure.

Draemir walked forward, his golden glow casting long shadows across the stone walls.

The Daywalkers and Volatile Demolishers stationed at the entrance stepped aside, making way for their god.

But then—

One Daywalker lingered.

It tilted its head slightly before uttering a soft growl.

Daywalker:

"Your successor has entered while being closed…"

Draemir paused.

His golden pupils narrowed slightly, a flicker of thought crossing his expression.

Then, after a brief silence—

He nodded.

And with a soft, deep growl, he responded.

Draemir:

"It's alright… He was going to see it sooner or later…"

A pause.

Then, without turning back—

Draemir:

"Also… Quit the sign. The market and merchant is open once more."

The Daywalker obeyed immediately.

It moved toward the warning sign that had once blocked entry, grabbing it with razor-sharp claws.

With ease, it lifted the sign and placed it carefully to the side, ready for future use if needed again.

And with that—

The rails were open once more.

And Draemir?

He continued forward, stepping deeper into the darkness.

A Run Through the Forgotten Paths

At first, he walked.

But soon—his speed increased.

His glowing energy intensified, golden light flickering like fire as he moved faster and faster.

Through the dimly lit tunnels, he raced forward, the air bending around him as he sprinted.

The path was clear, but ahead—

A crossroad.

Three Paths—Three Destinations

Draemir skidded to a halt, his glowing eyes scanning the large signs above.

Three paths. Three destinations.

🔹 Left → Workspaces & Market – The heart of trade and crafting.

🔹 Straight → Cities & Population – Where Solara's people lived.

🔹 Right → Medical & Scientific Space – The laboratories and hospital.

Without hesitation—

He turned right.

And he ran again.

The Laboratory & Hospital – A Place of Knowledge

The tunnel was short, designed for non-infected to travel easily.

But for Draemir, the distance was nothing.

Within seconds, he arrived.

Standing before him—

A massive facility, built with both human hands and infected assistance.

A makeshift hospital and laboratory, fused into one.

A place of healing… and discovery.

Without stopping, Draemir stepped inside.

The Arrival – A New Specimen for Study

As soon as he entered, an assistant took notice.

Their eyes widened.

Not at Draemir himself—

But at what he carried.

The decapitated body of the Night Hunter.

Without a word, the assistant immediately turned, leading him deeper into the research rooms.

The halls were silent, the air filled with the scent of sterile chemicals and dried herbs.

The deeper they walked, the colder the atmosphere felt.

And then—they arrived.

The Evolution of Aiden – The Eclipse Takes Shape

Inside the research chamber, there was another figure.

A figure on the verge of something new.

Draemir slowly placed the Night Hunter's body on an empty table, but his attention was no longer on it.

His golden gaze fixed on Aiden.

And what he saw—

Was evolution.

Aiden's body was still, but his transformation was undeniable.

His Volatile maw hung open, fangs elongated, resting in an almost predatory state.

His skin had gone pale, eerily smooth—almost like a Night Hunter's hide—but with something more.

Golden veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin, but unlike Draemir's bright solar energy—

Aiden's veins carried something else.

A deep, faded purple glow intertwined with the gold.

A stark contrast.

A paradox.

Like the light of the sun… eclipsed by the darkness of the night.

His eyes remained closed, but his pupils were visible beneath his eyelids—

A deep, blood-red glow, encased in a faint golden shimmer.

The Eclipse Path – A Balance of Light and Shadow

Draemir studied him carefully.

This was no longer a simple mutation.

This was a new path entirely.

A path that balanced between two extremes.

Between the Night Hunter and the Sunborn.

Between Crane's darkness and Draemir's light.

Aiden had not become either of them.

He had become something else.

Something between.

An Eclipse.

And this?

This was only his second stage.

Draemir remained silent.

Because now—he had a question of his own.

How far… would Aiden's Eclipse grow?