Chapter 7

In the deepest chamber of Toaf's underground sanctum, where the air was thick with the scent of blood and decay, Tyoran stood before the Circle of the Night.

Around him, vampires of the oldest bloodlines knelt, their crimson eyes glowing in the dim torchlight.

Tonight, they would seal a pact that would change the fate of the realms.

Tyoran lifted a ceremonial dagger, its blade forged from an obsidian so dark it seemed to drink in the light. He drew it across his palm, letting his blood drip into a stone basin carved with runes of power.

Across from him, a figure emerged from the shadows—Lord Eryon, the First Nightwalker, the eldest vampire in Toaf. His skin was pale as the moon, his fangs long, his presence overwhelming.

"You come to ask for power," Eryon's voice was like the rustling of dead leaves. "But power always demands a price."

Tyoran did not flinch.

"The realms are broken," he said. "The gods left us divided and weak. But with the power of the Nightwalkers, I will bring them to their knees."

Eryon chuckled, the sound low and dangerous.

"You seek to unite the realms through war. But war alone is not enough." He stepped closer, the shadows shifting unnaturally around him. "You need something… greater."

Tyoran's eyes burned with determination.

"And you will give it to me."

Eryon raised his hand, and the air in the chamber grew heavy, suffocating.

"If you wish to wield the power of the Nightwalkers, you must offer more than blood. You must offer your soul to the darkness."

The vampires around them hissed in approval, their fangs glinting.

Tyoran did not hesitate. He pressed his bloody hand to the runes, feeling the energy surge through him.

The moment the pact was sealed, pain ripped through his body.

His veins burned as if liquid fire coursed through them. His senses sharpened—he could hear the heartbeat of every being in the chamber, smell the fear hidden beneath their loyalty.

And then, the whispers of the ancient Nightwalkers filled his mind.

"We are one now, Tyoran of Toaf… and you shall know no rest until the realms are ours."

When Tyoran opened his eyes, they glowed an unnatural shade of red, his pupils slitted like those of a predator.

He had become something more than human, more than vampire.

He was now the first of a new kind.

A creature of magic, shadow, and blood.

And with this power, he would break the prophecy… and rule the realms.

***

The Layra AI Revolutor stood as Earth's most advanced technological hub, where artificial intelligence, robotics, and cybernetic enhancements were developed. Towering glass and steel buildings stretched high into the sky, humming with energy as machines worked alongside scientists to push the limits of human knowledge.

But behind its grand innovation, secrets lurked in its shadows.

For Wendall, stepping through the automated security gates into Layra's research labs for the first time felt surreal.

She had spent years at Layra Academy, mastering programming, AI ethics, and cybernetic engineering. But this—working inside the heart of Earth's greatest AI company—was another level.

And she wasn't here just as a student.

She was on a mission.

"Welcome to Layra AI Revolutor," a synthetic voice greeted her.

A humanoid robot, sleek and humanoid with glowing cyan eyes, scanned her face. The AI assistant, known as NOVA, was more than a simple machine—it was Layra's most advanced sentient AI system.

"Wendall Arliss. Identification confirmed. You have been assigned to Sector 4—Advanced AI Warfare Division."

Wendall frowned. "Warfare?"

She had expected a role in AI ethics or cybernetic engineering—not weapons development.

But something about this felt intentional.

"Report to Lab 12 for your first mission."

As Wendall entered Lab 12, she was met with a sight that sent chills down her spine.

Rows of combat droids lined the walls, sleek and deadly, their eyes glowing red instead of the usual blue or green. These were not standard security bots—they were military-grade autonomous war machines.

At the center of the lab, a group of scientists was gathered around a strange core, pulsating with an unnatural light.

Wendall's breath caught in her throat.

The energy coming from that core—it wasn't technological.

It was magic.

"Ah, our newest recruit," a voice called.

A tall man in a sleek white lab coat turned toward her, his sharp eyes analyzing her like data on a screen.

"I am Dr. Keiran Voss. You'll be working under me."

Wendall forced herself to nod. "What… exactly are we working on?"

Dr. Voss smirked, motioning to the glowing core. "The future, Miss Arliss. The perfect fusion of magic and technology."

Wendall's stomach churned.

"This isn't possible," she muttered. "Magic and AI… they don't work together."

Dr. Voss raised an eyebrow. "Then explain why you, a girl from Earth, have magic."

Wendall froze.

He knew about her abilities.

Before she could respond, the lab doors sealed shut, and an alarm blared overhead.

"Simulation Mode: Activated. First Mission Initiated."

The combat droids' eyes flickered—and turned to Wendall.

The test had begun.

***

Deep beneath the lands of Rafina, beyond the mermaid-infested shores and the towering seer temples, lay a place long forgotten by the world—The Vault of the Guardians.

It was said that when the gods first divided the realms, they left behind six Guardians, each entrusted with the knowledge and magic to maintain balance. But as time passed and war consumed the lands, the Guardians vanished, and with them, the true history of the realms was lost.

Until now.

Zypharain had been restless ever since she arrived in Rafina. Her magic, the KURAT, grew stronger by the day, yet she felt as if a part of it was missing.

Then came the dreams—visions of a place buried deep beneath the sands of Fusha, calling to her in whispers.

"Come… seek the truth… before it is too late…"

So she followed the call.

With the guidance of an elderly seer, she traveled to the desert ruins of Fusha, where time itself seemed to stand still. And there, hidden beneath layers of enchanted stone, she found it—a temple carved from obsidian and lined with ancient markings.

She stepped inside, and the air crackled with power.

At the heart of the temple stood a grand mural, depicting the six Guardians of the Realms.

Each Guardian held a different artifact—a blade, a staff, a book, a shield, an orb, and a crown.

And in the center of them all was the symbol of KURAT.

As Zypharain traced the carvings, the markings glowed, and suddenly, a voice filled the chamber.

"You who carry the KURAT… you must remember what was lost."

The room shifted, and she found herself trapped in a vision of the past.

She saw the Guardians in battle, facing an unknown force, their magic clashing with a darkness unlike any the realms had ever seen. She saw the moment they fell, their artifacts scattered across the realms.

And she saw the one who betrayed them.

A shadowy figure, cloaked in power and rage, stood over the fallen Guardians, his eyes burning with hunger.

Zypharain's blood ran cold.

It was Tyoran.

But how? He was from Toaf… from the present.

Had this battle happened before his time?

Or had he been a part of this war far longer than anyone realized?

As the vision faded, Zypharain staggered back, her heart pounding.

The Guardians hadn't simply vanished. They had been erased.

And now, it was up to her and Wendall to uncover their lost magic before Tyoran claimed it for himself.

Before the cycle repeated once more.