The Past

The cave was vast, its depths stretching beyond what the flickering torchlight could reach. Shadows clung to the jagged stone walls like silent specters, and the distant echo of dripping water filled the heavy silence between the three figures.

Valor and Volta walked a few paces behind Draven Noctis, their every instinct screaming at them to turn and run. But where would they go? The cave was an endless labyrinth, and even if they escaped, what then? The world had changed in the centuries since Draven's slumber. Could they even begin to fathom what had been set in motion by breaking that jar?

Valor stole a glance at Volta, whose grip remained tight on her sword hilt. Her body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. Unlike him, she had always been the decisive one, the one who acted when he hesitated. But now, even she seemed uncertain.

Draven, on the other hand, walked with an almost lazy confidence, his hands resting idly in the pockets of his long black coat. His posture was relaxed, unbothered, as if he were simply taking a casual stroll rather than emerging from five centuries of imprisonment.

"So, what now?" Valor finally spoke, his voice tight with tension.

Draven didn't stop walking. "Now? Now, we leave this wretched tomb."

"Just like that?" Volta snapped, her skepticism obvious. "You've been sealed for five hundred years, and you're not even going to—what? Take a moment to regain your bearings? To figure out what's changed?"

Draven let out a low chuckle, and when he finally glanced back at them, his blood-red eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, my dear girl. I don't need time to 'regain my bearings.' Do you think five centuries of stillness dulled my mind? No, I've had plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to plan." He turned forward again, his voice dipping into something darker. "Now, I act."

A shiver ran down Valor's spine.

Volta narrowed her eyes. "And we're just supposed to follow you?"

Draven exhaled as if he found the conversation mildly tiresome. "No. You're supposed to think. Surely you realize the consequences of your actions, don't you?" He let his words linger before continuing, "You freed me. Whether intentional or not, you two are now tied to me in ways you don't yet comprehend."

Valor clenched his fists. "Then tell us! Stop speaking in riddles and just—just explain!"

Draven stopped. The abruptness of it sent a fresh wave of tension crackling through the air.

Slowly, he turned. His gaze, while still unreadable, now carried a quiet intensity that made Valor instantly regret raising his voice.

"You want an explanation?" Draven murmured. "Very well."

In a blink, he was in front of them. Neither sibling had seen him move. One second he had been feet away, and the next, he loomed over them, his presence suffocating.

Valor and Volta tensed, but before either could react, Draven lifted a hand—and pressed two fingers lightly against Valor's forehead.

A surge of power flooded through Valor's body.

He gasped as his vision darkened. Images—no, memories—rushed into his mind, each one striking with the force of a crashing wave.

Fire.

Screams.

The heavens split apart as the world trembled. Mountains crumbled, oceans turned black, and a sky filled with golden-winged warriors rained destruction upon the earth.

He saw him.

Draven Noctis, standing alone amidst a battlefield of gods and monsters. His crimson eyes burned with an unholy light, his fangs bared in a savage grin. The power that radiated from him was unlike anything Valor could comprehend. It was overwhelmingly Evil.

And then, the battle. A clash between

Heavens Champion and the King of Vampires, stretching across days, tearing through the World itself. A warrior bathed in golden light, wielding a blade that pulsed with the will of the gods. Victoria.

The divine sword that sealed Draven away.

The images shattered, and Valor staggered backward with a sharp inhale. His chest heaved as he collapsed to one knee, his hands trembling violently.

Volta was beside him instantly, gripping his shoulders. "Valor! What did you do to him?" she snarled.

Draven tilted his head. "I simply showed him a glimpse of history."

Valor's breathing was uneven. The sheer magnitude of what he had seen… it made his head spin. "It's all real," he rasped, looking up at Draven with wide, shaken eyes. "The stories… the myths…i-it's all true"

Draven met his gaze without flinching. "Now do you understand, boy?" His voice was quiet, but there was an undeniable weight to it. "I am not some mere legend. I am not a fairy tale. I am the end that your ancestors fought so desperately to prevent."

Volta helped Valor to his feet, her expression dark. "And what about the world now?" she demanded. "You said things have changed. If you're so powerful, why did the angels never come back to finish what they started?"

Draven's smirk faded. For the first time, something unreadable flickered across his expression—something close to intrigue.

"That," he murmured, "is the question, isn't it?"

For a brief moment, silence hung heavy between them.

Then, Draven turned on his heel. "We're leaving."

"To where?" Valor asked, still shaken.

Draven's red eyes gleamed. "To see what kind of world I have awoken to."

With that, he stepped forward, deeper into the unknown. And despite every instinct screaming at them not to, Valor and Volta followed.

Whether as prisoners, allies, or pawns, they didn't know.

But fate had already decided.

There was no turning back now.