Chapter 1: Beneath a Dying Moon
The night smelled of burning wood and fresh rain.
Ariel sat by the open window of his home, staring at the vast sky above. The moon hung low, pale and unyielding, its light casting silver streaks across the rooftops of Eldrin. The town was quiet, its people already tucked away in their homes, lulled to sleep by the distant chirping of night insects.
He should have been asleep, too. His little brother, curled up in the shared cot behind him, had long since drifted off. His parents' hushed conversation from the other room had faded into silence. Yet Ariel remained awake, drawn to the sight of the sky—drawn to the moon.
He had always felt something when he looked at it. Something cold, something distant. As if, in its pale glow, something watched him back.
A shiver crawled down his spine. He exhaled, forcing the uneasy feeling down.
Tomorrow, he would turn fifteen.
Soon, like every other child in Eldrin, he would be tested for the Awakening.
A flicker of excitement stirred in his chest, but it was tempered by something heavier—something closer to dread.
What if nothing happened? What if he wasn't meant to have a Legacy?
His father always said that the world didn't favor the weak. That without power, a man was just prey for those who had it.
Ariel clenched his fists. He didn't want to be weak.
The wind carried the scent of wet earth through the open window. The leaves in the distance rustled, a gentle whisper in the night. For a moment, it was peaceful.
And then the screaming began.
Ariel jolted upright.
The distant cries started as faint echoes from the far side of town, but within moments, they grew—louder, sharper, filled with something raw and agonized.
Fear.
A terrible, deep rumble followed, like the earth itself was groaning.
Then, in the distance, the sky turned violet.
A cold, unnatural light flickered beyond the rooftops, casting eerie shadows along the walls of his home. The air itself grew thick, pressing against his lungs like a heavy mist.
Abyssal Rift.
Ariel barely had time to react before the door to his room burst open. His father stood there, face pale, eyes dark with urgency.
"Get your brother. Stay close."
Ariel's body moved before his mind could catch up. He turned, grabbing his younger brother from the cot. The boy whimpered in his sleep, but Ariel hushed him, pressing a hand over his mouth. His father's expression softened for only a second before he turned and rushed back toward the front of the house.
Outside, the world had already begun to collapse.
The town square, once lively with merchants and laughter, was now drenched in flickering violet light. The Rift had torn the sky apart, a massive gash of swirling darkness floating above the ruins of a crumbled building.
And from it, the creatures came.
Their bodies were twisted, vaguely humanoid but stretched and elongated, their flesh shifting and pulsing with dark energy. Their eyes—if they could even be called that—were hollow voids, consuming the light around them.
And they were hunting.
The town guards fought desperately, their weapons flashing as they clashed against the creatures. But it was clear, even to Ariel, that they were losing.
The creatures were too strong. Too fast.
And there were too many of them.
His mother clutched his arm tightly, her breath shallow. "We have to go—"
The wall beside them exploded inward.
Ariel was thrown to the ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Through the dust and debris, he saw it—a towering, jagged figure, its limbs too long, its head tilted at an unnatural angle.
Abyssal energy crackled around it.
Its hollow gaze locked onto them.
Ariel couldn't move.
His father did.
With a roar, he charged forward, axe swinging. The creature moved faster than sight.
A single, effortless swipe.
A wet sound.
His father crumpled to the ground.
Ariel's vision blurred. His mother screamed, pushing him backward. His little brother sobbed against his chest.
"Run," his mother whispered.
The creature lunged.
Ariel felt time slow.
The air around him shifted—something in his chest stirred, something ancient, something cold.
A voice, distant and melodic, whispered in his mind.
Child of the moon… awaken.
And then the world shattered.
Pain ripped through his body, a searing, impossible agony that made him feel like he was being torn apart from the inside. His vision burned white, his very blood humming with raw, unfiltered energy.
His hair turned silver. His eyes burned like twin moons.
And then—everything broke.
He didn't control it. He couldn't.
The power exploded outward in a single, uncontrollable pulse—a tidal wave of raw, moonlit destruction.
The creature, his home, the very earth beneath him—all of it was obliterated.
Then… silence.
The world was distant.
Ariel lay somewhere, body numb, mind drifting between sleep and something else.
Cold fingers brushed his skin.
Not real fingers.
Something… not human.
He tried to move, but his body was too heavy.
"Strange."
A voice. Soft. Ethereal.
"Not like the others."
He couldn't see. Couldn't speak.
"The moon chose you."
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When he woke, the sky was gone.
Only ruins remained.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of burned wood and something worse—the lingering scent of Abyssal corruption.
He didn't know how long he had been unconscious.
He only knew that when he opened his eyes, he was alone.
His little brother—gone.
His mother—gone.
His father—gone.
His home—nothing but dust.
Unknown Survivor
Footsteps crunched against broken stone.
Ariel barely registered them before he felt rough hands grab his arm, lifting him upright. His vision swam.
"Alive," a voice muttered. "This one's alive."
He tried to speak. His throat was too dry.
The figures before him were clad in white and gold armor, their crests unmistakable.
The Lightbound Order.
Their leader crouched before him, eyes sharp and calculating. "You were at the center of this," she said, not unkindly. "You should be dead."
Ariel couldn't answer.
Because he didn't know, either.
The knight studied him for a moment longer before standing.
"Take him to the Citadel."
Ariel barely felt himself being lifted.
He barely processed the weight of the stares around him, the hushed whispers of suspicion and fear.
Because all he could do was stare at his hands.
The hands that had wiped everything away.