Ashes and Oaths

The night before the world shattered, Leo sat beneath the flickering candlelight, his fingers tracing the delicate, timeworn pages of the Ancient Book of Delian History.

It had been hidden carefully, wrapped in old linen beneath his mother's bed, untouched for years. The leather cover was cracked, the ink faded, but as he turned the pages, the words breathed life into forgotten truths.

"Before the Kinks, Delia stood proud—our kings were warriors, our gods mighty, our people free. The chains of oppression were not forged in steel, but in fear. And the chains that are made can be broken."

Leo's heart pounded. His people had not always been slaves. They had not always lived under the boot of Kinkland.

For the first time, he saw the possibility of something greater. A future where Delia was free.

He read until the candle burned low, the words carving themselves into his soul. When he finally closed the book, dawn was already creeping through the cracks in the walls.

He tucked the book away carefully, unaware that it would be the last peaceful night he would ever know.

---

The Soldiers Come at Dawn

The sound of boots pounding against the dirt.

The clang of armor.

The screams of neighbors.

Leo jolted awake as the door to his home was shattered inward. Soldiers. The black sigil of House Nyxthorn gleamed on their chests, their swords already drawn.

His mother, Mira, barely had time to react before they seized her.

"Search everything!" barked the lead soldier.

Leo fought back, landing a solid punch on one of them, but was swiftly overpowered. A boot struck his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. Hands wrenched his arms behind his back, steel biting into his wrists as shackles locked around them.

Then came the words that made his blood run cold:

"Sir! We found this!"

One of the soldiers emerged from the back room, holding the book.

Leo's stomach dropped.

His mother's face paled.

Mira was thrown to her knees beside him, the ancient text held out like a cursed artifact.

"This book," the soldier sneered, "should not exist. Possessing Delian history is a crime of rebellion."

Leo tried to speak, tried to take the blame—but his mother's voice rang out first.

"It's mine," she said firmly. "I kept it."

"Mother, no—"

She turned to him, her eyes soft but unwavering. A silent command. Stay silent. Stay alive.

Leo struggled, but the soldiers only tightened their grip.

The leader of the squad stepped forward then, a tall, cold-eyed man with a scar along his jaw. Martis.

"By order of the High Council of Lords," he said smoothly, "possession of treasonous material is punishable by death."

Leo's heart slammed against his ribs. "No, she's just an old woman! She doesn't—"

Martis didn't even acknowledge him. His hand moved to his belt, withdrawing a long, thin dagger.

"I will show mercy," he said. "A swift death."

"NO!" Leo thrashed, but the soldiers held him fast.

His mother turned her gaze to him, tears in her eyes—but she was not afraid.

"My son," she whispered, "be strong."

The dagger flashed.

A red spray hit the dirt.

And then—silence.

---

The World Breaks

Something inside Leo snapped.

A raw, primal scream tore from his throat. He fought like a rabid beast, his strength fueled by rage and agony. He felt his wrist snap under the shackles, felt blood run down his arms as he tried to break free.

But it was useless.

His mother's body crumpled to the ground.

Martis wiped the blade on his cloak and turned away. "Take the boy to the capital. The Overlord will decide his fate."

Leo's vision blurred. The world became a haze of tears and hatred.

As they dragged him away, he swore—swore upon the blood-stained ground, upon the gods of his ancestors, upon the very breath in his lungs.

Martis would die by his hands.

Kinkland would burn.

And Delia would be free.

Even if it cost him his soul.