Shahardel90

Everything she loved was reduced to ashes in a single night. With her home destroyed and her heart hollowed by grief, she sets out into a world where magic is a whispered threat and danger lurks behind every corner. As she hunts the one who shattered her life, she’s pulled deeper into a web of secrets, bloodshed, and powers far beyond her own. With nothing left but vengeance to guide her steps, every choice drags her closer to the edge.

Just how far will she go in her quest for revenge?

The Mongrath

I climbed deeper and deeper down the ladder, the voices growing louder with every step. The air thickened with magic—strong, refined, practiced.

I had to use that rail system.

I stood in a massive underground chamber. The ceiling stretched high above me, lined with glowing runes. The space was filled with people—robed figures, spellcasters, magicians of all kinds. Some whispered in hushed tones, others discussed magic in languages I barely understood.

Sleek metal, enchanted with pulsing glyphs. They was right there. If I could just—

"Hey! You there!"

I instinctively gripped my dagger behind my back, ready to kill if necessary.

But the man who called out didn't seem suspicious—just impatient.

"You coming? The prophecy is about to start."

Prophecies were fairy tales. Magic could predict brief moments into the future, but seeing beyond seconds was impossible.

They wasn't going anywhere yet.

Curiosity got the better of me. I followed him.

The chamber led into an even larger hall—a grand stage stood at the center, lit by eerie floating candles. The crowd was massive, yet organized.

Recruits gathered at the front, all young and eager. Behind them stood the more refined members, their postures stiff, disciplined.

And then, on stage—three figures.

The first was a young man. Human. Dark hair, red eyes, a purple gem embedded in his crimson cloak.

Beside him stood a woman. Golden hair, sky-blue eyes, dressed in pure white. She looked... out of place. Too pure for a gathering like this.

And the last was an older man, late 50s at least. His leather vest was lined with potions, spell components, and alchemical tools. A scholar. A mage. A fighter.

The recruits around me whispered in excitement.

"Wasn't that so cool? Dean and Sam are on stage!"

I turned to the one who spoke. "Who is Sam? Who is Dean?"

"Dean is the younger one—red cloak, purple gem. And Sam is the older guy!"

I frowned. "And the woman?"

Before he could answer, Dean stepped forward.

"Listen to me now, brothers. The ritual is about to begin."

The hall went silent.

The older man—Sam—pulled out a knife. It was old, bloody. But that wasn't what caught my attention.

It was made of Altruist metal.

Then, without hesitation—he stabbed her.

The blade sank into her stomach.

Her eyes went wide. A choking sound escaped her lips as blood spilled onto her white robes.

Nothing more than a sacrifice.

The candles flickered—then died.

Then, in the darkness, a voice spoke.

"The End is coming. In about 200 years' time, AOG will end this world."

The words echoed, vibrating through my bones.

Then—light returned.

The woman's body was still there. Still dead.

A ripple of fear spread through the crowd. True fear.

Then, Sam stepped forward.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU WEASELS."

The entire hall went dead silent.

His voice was rough, angry.

"You really think we're gonna let the world end, you fucking dimwits?! HUH?! ME?!" His eyes burned with something between rage and madness. "And besides, the Prophet has been wrong before!"

The fear in the room began to fade. People started nodding, whispering—then cheering.

Whatever was happening, whatever Sam knew—

He couldn't stop it.

I slipped away from the crowd, making my way back to the trains.

I scanned them quickly, looking for any indicators.

Then—I found it.

A train heading toward Varonthal.

I climbed inside, finding a passenger seat. The train hummed beneath me as it prepared to move.

Then, the train lurched forward.

Chapter Twenty Nine: The Meeting