The city was dead.
Aaren stepped over the melted remains of what used to be his neighborhood, each step weighed with the silence of memory. The house where he once laughed, cried, and drew his first dreams was now broken wood and ash. He stood still among the ruins, breathing in the scorched air, until the sobs overtook him.
He dropped to his knees in the dust, fingers sifting through debris. A half-burnt notebook. A melted toy. The twisted remains of a chair. Everything was gone — but the memories lived like ghosts in the space around him.
His mother gently touched his shoulder. "We'll rebuild," she whispered, her own voice shaking.
But Aaren didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on something odd — a round patch of metal, half-buried under blackened stone.
He moved toward it, pushed away the debris. A metallic clang echoed. It was a hatch — and it had a symbol carved into it: a lion split in three.
It pulsed faintly.
He pulled it open.
---
A narrow staircase descended into darkness, the air below cold and dry. With a flashlight in hand and his heart pounding in his chest, Aaren took the first step down.
He descended deep — deeper than the foundations of any house should go. The stairs ended in a steel hallway. At the far end was a single room, sealed by a heavy door, which groaned open at his touch.
Inside was a stone chamber. A desk sat at its center, untouched by time. On the desk lay a single leather-bound book, dusty but pristine.
Aaren brushed it clean. Etched into the front were the words:
"The Truth of the World — Joseph Raithe."
His grandfather's name.
With trembling fingers, he opened the book.
---
"There are three worlds — or chambers, as they were once called."
*"The Upper Chamber: a land of shining towers and bloodless kings. Those who live above wield magic like breath. They rule over the rest from cities among the clouds. They do not age. They do not bleed. Their hands shaped this world, and they keep it shaped to their liking."
"The Middle Chamber: our world. Where the soil burns and the rain is summoned by permission. Where we toil, we obey, and we kneel — to those above. We are their livestock, their audience, their chessboard. The nuclear fire was not war. It was punishment."
*"The Lower Chamber: the prisons of beasts. A world hidden beneath. Cursed. Feared. But the truth is different. The A — the omni-beings — were not demons. They were the first magi. They lent us power. They gave us flame, water, stars. The Upper Chamber feared them… so they imprisoned them."
"The cycle will not break until one from the middle world chooses to descend."
Aaren stared at the pages, fury rising with every word.
His world… was a lie.
His friends. His city. Mina.but the lie was also stolen from me all of them
They were sacrificed — not by fate, but by choice.
He clenched his fists. "I will end them. Every single one."
As if in answer, the ground rumbled faintly. Aaren turned.
At the far corner of the room, a large iron box sat beneath an old tarp. He hadn't seen it at first. It was massive — taller than him, ornate with ancient runes.
He stepped toward it and slowly lifted the lid.
Inside was a sword.
Its blade was black-gold, humming softly like a heartbeat. The hilt shimmered like silver fire, and as he reached toward it —
The sword spoke.
"At last," it said, voice deep and resonant. "You bear the blood of Levitin. I am the Descent Sword of the king levitin— forged for the king who will unseat the false gods."
Aaren staggered back.
"What are you?" he whispered.
"I am vengeance given form," it said. "And you, Aaren Raithe, are my wielder."
The room dimmed. The air thickened.
"Swear to descend," the sword urged.
Aaren stared down at the glowing words of his grandfather. At the diary that had changed his life.
He took the sword.
"I swear."
I'll end every one of them
But,where are mom and dad I left them in the station let me go and check ,but when he went his legs became sense less he saw that another explosion had took place and his parents where no more. Now after carrying all this in his chest he went back to the secret room again.
Swearing that he would end every single one of them so brutally that their soul would all beg for mercy.