"How the hell do you know that?"
Veylin ignored the question. "Your powers are dormant. Things change in a thousand years." He tossed Kael a dagger. The blade gleamed, etched with runes. "Head south. There's a village. You'll find answers—or they'll find you."
"And yes remember telling your true self is not the answer always
"Wait—"
But Veylin was already walking away. Kael lunged, grasping at air. The man had vanished.
Alone again, Kael turned the dagger in his hands. The wind moaned through the trees, carrying the stench of blood and old magic.
South, then.
He stepped forward, into a world that no longer knew his name.
Kael trudged southward through the skeletal remains of a forest, each step crunching on frost-brittle leaves. A millennium had reshaped the land, but the air still carried the same metallic tang of blood and ashes. He flexed his fingers, willing the familiar surge of water magic to respond. Nothing. He remembered the days when oceans bent to his will—now, he couldn't even summon a drop.
Why won't my powers awaken? The question gnawed at him. Does the demon's curse still hold?
A derelict cottage emerged from the mist, its thatched roof sagging like a dying man's shoulders. Kael's combat instincts flared—left hand gripping the dagger Veylin had given him, right hovering near his useless gourd. The stable's door hung by a single hinge, creaking in the wind like a beckoning finger.
"Check the perimeter first," he muttered. "No powers means no mistakes."
His boots left dark prints in the frost as he circled the property. Empty animal pens. A rusted plow half-buried in frozen mud. No recent tracks except his own. The silence felt heavier than the mountain caves he'd emerged from.
Inside, time had stopped. A cold hearth. Dust-thickened beams of light through grimy windows. Kael's fingers brushed against a cabinet near the stairs—family portraits frozen behind cracked glass. A smiling child with braided hair. Parents standing proud behind her. His throat tightened.
They look just like...
He slammed the cabinet shut. Memories were luxuries he couldn't afford. Not when every shadow might hide fangs.
The upstairs hallway told a different story—claw marks raked across wallpaper, a shattered landscape painting lying in a pool of broken glass. Kael's nostrils flared at the lingering stench of rotting meat. His dagger found his hand before he'd consciously decided to draw it.
The bedroom door groaned open.
"Oh gods."
A child's body lay bisected across the bed, tiny fingers still curled around a stuffed rabbit. Blood patterns sprayed across the ceiling told the story—this wasn't feeding. This was sport.
Kael's knees hit the floorboards. A thousand years of stone sleep hadn't prepared him for this. The same atrocities. The same helplessness. His fist pounded the floor until splinters pierced his skin.
"My fault," the words tore from him in a raw whisper. "All my people... every hope they placed in me..."
A floorboard creaked downstairs.
Instinct sent his hand to the gourd—then stopped. The bitter laugh that escaped him tasted like blood. "Still reaching for what isn't there."
Steel whispered against leather as he drew the dagger properly this time. Let them come. Water magic or not, tonight something would drown in blood.
Kael heard the creak of the floorboards again—this time, closer.
A guttural snarl echoed through the cottage. Shadows shifted in the hallway. Then movement—a hunched figure with too many joints scrambled across the ceiling like a spider, its elongated limbs clicking against the wood.
Kael barely had time to raise his dagger before the demon dropped.
He sidestepped, slashing upward. The blade bit into leathery flesh, spraying black ichor. The demon screeched, recoiling—but another was already at the door.
Two of them.
Kael backed toward the broken window. His muscles remembered battle, but his body was slow, untested. The first demon lunged, claws raking the air where his throat had been a second before. He countered with a downward stab, embedding the dagger in its shoulder. It howled, wrenching away, taking his only weapon with it.
Damn it.
The second demon charged. Kael grabbed the splintered bedpost and swung. Wood cracked against bone, sending the creature sprawling. He didn't wait—he ran, vaulting through the shattered window just as claws grazed his back.
Cold air hit his face as he hit the ground rolling. The stable. If he could reach it—
A third demon dropped from the roof, blocking his path.
Kael skidded to a halt. No weapon. No powers. Just fists and fury.
The demons circled, saliva dripping from jagged teeth. One lashed out. Kael ducked, driving his elbow into its ribs. Something cracked. The demon staggered, but the others didn't hesitate. Claws tore into his side. He gritted his teeth against the pain, twisting free, but another slammed into him from behind.
He hit the dirt, the weight of three demons pressing down. Fangs glinted above him.
Is this how it ends?
Then—a thunderous whinny.
A massive black stallion barreled into the fray, hooves crushing demon skulls like rotten fruit. Its eyes burned like embers, its mane a wild storm of shadow. It reared, striking the last demon square in the chest, sending it flying.
Kael didn't question it. He hauled himself onto the horse's back, blood slicking his grip as he snatched back his dagger from the demon's shoulder.
The stallion needed no command. It moved, tearing across the frozen earth as the demons' shrieks faded behind them. Wind howled in Kael's ears, his wounds screaming in protest. But they were alive.
For now.
He glanced back at the shrinking cottage, at the horrors it held.
This world hasn't changed.
But I will.