Chapter 1
Darkness swallowed everything.
No light. No sound. Nothing but the heavy weight of silence pressing down like a suffocating blanket. He lay still, his mind drifting between a foggy nothingness and the faint stirrings of awareness.
Gradually, a tiny spark flickered in the depths of his consciousness — a whisper of sensation, a breath of life returning.
His eyelids felt leaden but began to flutter open. The first thing he saw was shadows — shadows twisting and shifting in the dim glow of flickering torchlight.
The air was cool, damp, and heavy with the scent of stone and moss. A faint, earthy smell that whispered of age and neglect.
He was lying on a hard surface — cold and rough beneath his skin, pressing against his back like a cruel reminder that this was no place of comfort.
His limbs felt strange. Weak, yet unfamiliar. When he flexed his fingers, they seemed lighter, smoother — almost foreign. His skin was unscarred, unmarked by the battles he so vividly remembered from his past life. A sudden wave of panic surged through him.
*Where am I?* The question slammed into his chest like a hammer. He tried to remember — memories flickered like broken shards.
Pain. Betrayal. The cold sting of a blade cutting through flesh and trust. The last moments before darkness claimed him.
And now… now, he was here. Alive. Somehow.
He forced himself to sit up, each movement heavy with discomfort as muscles protested. His head spun, vision blurring, then sharpening as his eyes adjusted to the low light.
The chamber was narrow and ancient, carved from cold gray stone. The walls were rough, cracked, stained by time and shadow. Torches burned weakly, their flames sputtering as if struggling to hold back the darkness.
Every corner of the room seemed cloaked in shadow, swallowing shapes whole and creating illusions that twisted at the edges of his vision.
The floor beneath him was uneven stone, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Small patches of moss clung stubbornly to the cracks, sending a faint dampness into the air.
His breath came in short, shallow bursts, throat dry as dust. Yet beneath the fear and confusion, something deeper simmered — a slow-burning fire of determination and anger.
*I am not done.*
is thoughts flickered back to his old life — the name he once bore with fear and respect.
*Kairos.*
A warrior, fierce and unyielding, betrayed by his closest comrade and left for dead. The taste of betrayal was bitter, like ash in his mouth.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands — as if grounding himself, reminding his soul that he was still here.
But this body was different. Younger. Softer. Unfamiliar.
*Who am I now?*
The uncertainty twisted inside him like a knife. He tried to recall his own face, but all he had was the reflection in a broken mirror — sharp jawline, dark hair falling in unruly waves, eyes burning with an intensity that felt both foreign and familiar.
A sudden, sharp pulse surged through his chest — raw power awakening beneath the surface of his skin. It was strange, electric, as if something ancient stirred within.
His heart hammered in his chest. What had been done to him? What was this gift — or curse — he now carried?
A faint murmur echoed beyond the chamber walls — voices speaking in a language strange to him, filled with soft rhythms and sharp consonants.
His head turned toward the sound, senses alert despite the lingering fog of confusion.
The torch flames flickered wildly, shadows dancing like restless spirits.
His gaze settled on the heavy wooden door, its iron hinges creaking as it slowly swung open.
He tensed, every muscle coiled.
A figure stepped into the room — cloaked, mysterious. The hood shadowed their face, but there was a calm assurance in their movements.
"Draziel," the voice said softly, resonating deep inside his chest.
The name struck him — Draziel Vale. A new identity. A new life.
He repeated it quietly, tasting it, letting it settle in his mind.
Questions tumbled, but beneath them, a fierce resolve began to take root.
Whatever this new path held, he would walk it on his own terms.
*I will find the truth. I will reclaim my power. I will have my revenge.*
---
The figure stepped closer, the sound of soft leather brushing against stone echoing in the small chamber. The hood slipped back, revealing a woman's face—sharp, keen eyes that seemed to pierce through the haze of his confusion.
"Draziel, you've been given a second chance," she said, voice low but steady, carrying the weight of knowledge. "But this world is not the one you left behind."
He tried to speak but found his throat dry and words caught like broken glass. Instead, he forced himself to sit straighter, the cold stone pressing unforgivingly against his back.
"Where am I?" His voice was rough, unfamiliar even to himself.
"Within the Dominion of Erythra," she answered, stepping back into the shadows. "A place where power shapes destiny and ancient forces stir beneath the surface. Your past has marked you, but your future is yet unwritten."
Draziel's mind raced. Dominion. Power. Destiny. The words echoed in his head, strange but somehow resonating with a part of him long buried under layers of pain and betrayal.
He felt a sudden surge of energy ripple beneath his skin — a pulse that thrummed in tune with his quickening heartbeat. It was raw, untamed, and terrifyingly alive.
"What... what is this power?" he asked, flexing his fingers again, watching the faint glow that flickered faintly like embers beneath his skin.
The woman smiled faintly, stepping into the torchlight. "That, Draziel, is the Essence of the Dominion. A force you will need to master if you are to survive here."
His eyes narrowed. "Survive? I'm not here to survive. I'm here to—"
"To reclaim what was stolen from you," she finished, her gaze sharp. "But beware. The path you seek is riddled with shadows. Allies may be enemies, and enemies may wear the faces of friends."
The warning sent a chill down his spine, but it only fueled the fire burning in his chest.
*I will not be betrayed again.*
He glanced around the chamber once more. The walls, scarred with ancient runes barely visible in the torchlight. The faint hum of magic that thrummed in the air, like a living thing breathing in the dark.
Questions churned in his mind — How had he come to this place? Why was he given this second chance? And what did this Essence truly mean?
Yet, amid the confusion, a strange calm settled over him. For the first time since he awoke, a glimmer of hope pierced through the fog.
He was no longer Kairos, the betrayed warrior left to die.
He was Draziel Vale — a new name, a new body, a new chance.
And he would take it.
With a sudden resolve, he pushed himself to his feet. The room spun, but he stood firm, muscles straining against the unfamiliar weight of his new form.
"Where do I go from here?" he asked, voice steady despite the storm raging within.
The woman extended her hand. "Follow me. There is much to learn, and little time to waste."
As he took her hand, a surge of energy shot through him — sharp, electric, awakening every nerve and sinew.
He glanced back at the chamber one last time, the shadows seeming to reach out as if trying to pull him back into oblivion.
But he stepped forward, into the unknown.
---
The door creaked as it opened, revealing a narrow corridor beyond — arched and ancient, lit with flickering blue lanterns that floated in the air without chains or support. Their cold light cast ghostly reflections along the damp stone walls.
Draziel's first step into the hallway was cautious. His bare feet touched the cool stone floor, rough beneath his soles. Each footfall echoed, merging with the distant dripping of unseen water. The silence between sounds felt almost sacred — like the world itself was holding its breath.
The woman walked ahead without turning, her cloak trailing softly behind her. Draziel watched how her presence seemed to command the corridor, the way the floating lights dimmed slightly as she passed, as if recognizing her.
He glanced back briefly, the door to the chamber already closing behind him with a slow groan. That part of him — the one still clinging to the pain, the betrayal, the memory of blood in his throat — stayed behind with it.
Ahead, the corridor twisted slightly and widened, opening into a large circular chamber. The ceiling stretched high above, vanishing into darkness. Strange, glowing roots coiled down from the stone dome like veins of light pulsing with a quiet rhythm.
The floor was carved with symbols — runes, circles, and markings that felt alive. Draziel stepped carefully around them, sensing a dormant power still lingering beneath the surface.
His guide finally stopped in the center of the chamber and turned to face him.
"You feel it, don't you?" she asked.
Draziel nodded slowly. "Like the air is watching me."
The woman's lips curled into a faint smile. "Good. You're more attuned than I expected."
He didn't reply. Instead, his eyes scanned the chamber again, drinking in the strange elegance of it — the way ancient stone and pulsing light blended together in eerie harmony.
*This isn't just a ruin,* he thought. *It's alive.*
She gestured to the roots above. "This place was built on an ancient leyline. The Dominion of Erythra is laced with them. Here, Essence runs strongest — the power you felt in your veins earlier. It flows from these very walls."
Draziel narrowed his eyes. "And why me? Why was I brought here?"
"You weren't brought," she said. "You awakened."
His brow furrowed.
She stepped closer, now only a breath away. "Your soul refused to die. That stubborn will of yours tore through the Veil and found a vessel. This vessel."
She placed a hand over his chest, and he could feel it again — the deep hum of the Essence within him, coiling and stirring like a beast beneath the surface.
"But make no mistake," she continued, voice like a warning wrapped in silk. "This power is not yours yet. If you cannot tame it, it will consume you."
Draziel stood still, letting her words settle. He remembered the look in his betrayer's eyes before the sword pierced his back — the calm cruelty. The laughter.
He clenched his jaw. "Then I'll tame it."
She studied him for a long moment. "We'll see."
A distant rumble echoed through the chamber, low and deep, like thunder underground. Somewhere far above, something stirred.
The woman's head tilted slightly, her expression sharpening.
"They've sensed your awakening," she said quietly.
"Who?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes flicked toward a shadowed stairwell at the chamber's edge.
"Come," she said. "There is much you need to see."
---
The stairwell was steep and winding, carved into dark stone that shimmered faintly with veins of silver-blue. Draziel followed close behind, one hand brushing the wall for balance, the other instinctively near his side where a weapon should be.
As they climbed, the air began to change. The deep, earthy scent of the underground faded, replaced by something crisper — wild and open. It carried the scent of damp earth, distant woodsmoke, and something faintly metallic. The pressure in the air thinned, and the silence became filled with subtle sounds: wind, the faint rustle of trees, and a low hum like nature's heartbeat.
A door awaited them at the top — old, heavy, and marked with a single circular rune. The woman pressed her palm to it, and the rune flared briefly before the door groaned open.
Light.
It poured in like a flood.
Draziel instinctively shielded his eyes, blinking rapidly as the world beyond came into focus.
They stood on a cliffside. The stone path jutted out from a sheer rock face, overlooking a vast expanse below. The sky above was a deep violet, streaked with pale gold — a twilight that never quite became day or night. Twin moons hung low on the horizon, casting a silvery sheen over the landscape.
Forests stretched endlessly in the distance, their canopies glowing faintly with bioluminescent hues — deep green, sapphire, and amber. Strange creatures flitted between the branches, their wings leaving shimmering trails. Closer to the cliff, the land dipped into wide valleys dotted with ancient ruins, flickering with runes that pulsed softly.
Draziel stood frozen, breath caught in his throat.
*This… isn't the world I remember.*
His old world had been brutal — blackened by war, soaked in blood. Cities choked with steel and ash. But this… this world was alive. Breathing. Dangerous, yes, but beautiful.
"What is this place?" he finally asked, his voice low.
"The Dominion," she said, stepping beside him. "The surface of Erythra. Where kingdoms rise and fall in silence. Where Dominion Lords rule by strength, cunning… or sheer will."
He turned to her. "And which are you?"
She only smiled.
Thunder rolled again in the distance — this time, sharper, more distinct. A streak of red lightning cracked across the horizon, briefly illuminating massive silhouettes in the clouds — *wings*. Something ancient. Watching.
Draziel's gaze lingered on the sky.
"Monsters?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied calmly. "And they are not the only ones."
He looked down at his hands again. That strange warmth — the Essence — pulsed faintly in his chest. Not just power, but hunger. Something inside him *wanted* to be challenged.
"I'll need a weapon," he said.
"You'll earn one," she replied. "First… you must survive your first trial."
He arched a brow. "When?"
She looked up toward the twin moons.
"It begins now."
---