It was a different time back then. Magic was not just the privilege of specific, pure mage bloodlines, but woven into the fabric of everyday life. Ironically, household spells were the most used yet lost to time. Yet despite how science had progressed by orders of magnitudes today, the lifespans of our ancestors were paradoxically greater than ours, aside from their glaringly low life expectancy.

If you look at somebody the wrong way, you may just end up on a t-shirt.

The war had many mysteries.

Like my forefathers before me, I, as a historian, have a duty to uncover the truth.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure where to start.

To begin with, I was only curious—a simple inquiry. A passing tale from my grandfather. A name, a forgotten ruin, stories dismissed as mere legends. However, the spark still remained in my eyes.

It dragged me down a rabbit hole, a labyrinth of mysteries and buried secrets, each deeper and twisting into something more horrific than the last.

The deeper I dug, the more questions I unearthed. But there is, and always has been, one and only truth.

The past does not stay buried forever, and I will do my duty to uncover the truth.

Miners never expected to find a city buried under layers upon layers of sediment and rock. Their objective was to mine for veins of mana-rich ore deposits, a routine excavation. However, our lives changed forever when their pickaxes struck an impossibly dense layer of this red substance.

Initially, the layer was impervious to conventional mining tools, but then they brought out more specialized equipment. When the dust settled, they found themselves staring into a gaping chasm, which revealed ancient structures, frozen in time by the red substance. Structures, eerily preserved, shimmered beneath the surface. Despite centuries passing, the air reeked of iron.

What they had found was later identified as the remnants of an ancient civilization called the Kingdom of Calarin.

When analyzed by our alchemists, the red substance is discovered to be blood—not dried or decayed, but crystallized into a glass-like semi-translucent substance akin to rubies. And disturbingly, the blood was not only from humans. No, it was a grotesque amalgamation from a whole slew of creatures, which included the blood of man, elves, monsters, and that of eldritch beings.

Then came the deaths.

We later learned that even a few moments of exposure could cause paralysis. Several miners collapsed, their limbs stiffening while their breathing labored. And within hours, they were dead. No signs of any external wounds, perfectly healthy prior to their expedition. The area was hastily sealed off from the public, and declared as a biohazard zone.

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Our initial hypothesis included that this may be the site of a major battle, but something seemed… Off. A massacre of this magnitude should’ve left ruin—bodies in disarray, and signs of struggle. Yet the corpses were perfectly preserved. Some were locked with a perpetual expression of terror, some were frozen in mid-motion.

Several possibilities have already been ruled out. A mass execution? An epidemic? Unlikely. To have left such a trace, there must be something more that we’re missing. What really baffled us was the amount of blood left behind, possibly suggesting the incident was of vampiric origin.

Upon further inspection, there we found evidence of a riot—scorched buildings, hastily constructed barricades, abandoned weapons, suggesting chaos erupting before the catastrophe.

Perhaps this had been the site of a massive conspiracy, with whispers of an impending reckoning circulating at the time, speaking of a great bloodletting, an unknown and unseen horror. But it was already too late.

We’ve since named this incident the Night of the Red River.

Much of what we know of this incident was pieced together through fragmented records. But today, we have the opportunity to interview a living descendent of an eyewitness—someone who may hold the key to the missing link.

“So tell me,” I said, leaning closer in my seat. “What do you know about the… Incident?”

His fingers trembled against the wooden table, as his eyes darted across the dimly lit room. He seemed paranoid, as someone was listening in on him. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he began his story.

His grandfather was the friend of a prominent merchant—a wildly successful merchant who traded silks and spices from all over the continent.

On that fateful night, his grandfather had boarded one of the last remaining ships to leave port. The next morning, the city itself ceased to exist.

“You couldn’t imagine it without seeing it firsthand,” the man murmured. “My grandfather learned to paint as a coping mechanism, an- and his depictions were truly horrifying.”

Rivers of blood, streets drowned in a crimson tide. That is the one commonality between all accounts. Houses were swallowed by the flood, the blood pulling in anything that it touched, never to be seen again.

“My grandfather never spoke to us about this event, not until he was on his deathbed. He wanted us to… Remember. When you acknowledge the void, the void acknowledges you.”

One prevailing theory was that this was the work of a high-ranking vampire of some sort, perhaps of nobility. The sheer volumes of blood suggest an unfathomable power, something even beyond even the oldest of vampires.

Throughout history, most people would live entire lives without meeting a vampire. Yet, their origins are well documented—they are a mix of demons and elves, outcasts of society.

“They are seen as cursed, harbingers of misfortune.”

In a world where demonkind was heavily prejudiced against, they created their own secret society, a brotherhood of sorts—the Truthseekers. There, they delved into ancient mysteries, seeking to gain forbidden knowledge, which is now a trademark of their race.

Blood magic—a craft so feared in wars that their race was driven almost to the brink of extinction. Today, the usage is heavily restricted, however, many vampires work as crime analysts, their abilities to read blood granting them unparalleled forensic skills.

What could’ve provoked such an atrocity? What crime had the city committed to arouse such an entity?

Records indicated a massive military force assembling weeks before this incident. Soldiers from all across the continent, their numbers padded with adventurers and mercenaries. They had not been preparing for a war—they were preparing for an execution. This was premeditated, prepared months in advance to strike at an unknown enemy. Casualties were horrific, ranging from upper 70s to the lower 90s. Whoever their target was, it wasn’t a being to be trifled with.

Then, as if in retaliation, the city was drowned in a river of blood.

We were left with more questions than answers. Who—or what—was the enemy? Was the city’s destruction an act of vengeance? A curse? A consequence of meddling with unspeakable powers?

We may never know, but one thing is certain.

The entity, whatever it was, could still be out there, watching, waiting. And if it still exists, there is no telling the future it may hold for us.

Our team will continue to research the ruins and update you on the details.

But if there is anything I’ve learned it is this :

“Some mysteries are best left unsolved.”