The Fallen Estate

The estate, once a beacon of wealth and prestige, now stood as a ghost of its former self, weighed down by an air of tension and despair.

The once-vibrant gardens were now overgrown, the hedges untended, and the paths cracked and worn.

The manor itself, once a place of pride and joy, stood cloaked in an oppressive silence. In the grand halls, the echoes of laughter and the soft murmurs of wisdom had faded into nothingness, leaving only an eerie stillness in their place.

The grand chandelier in the entryway, now dimmed and gathering dust, reflected no light except for that of the flickering candles on the walls.

Shadows stretched long in the dimming light, as though the house itself were suffocating under the weight of an unseen burden.

Castian sat in his study, his once-proud form now hunched with the weight of too many sleepless nights.

The bright eyes that had once glowed with ambition were now clouded with exhaustion and worry. Papers were strewn across the desk—maps of territories that had long since lost their significance, lists of mounting debts, and correspondence from allies who had once pledged loyalty but had now gone silent, their promises nothing more than a distant memory.

The air was thick with the scent of old books and aged wood, mingling with the faint, almost imperceptible smell of incense.

His hand clutched an old, weathered letter, a letter that had been his constant companion for days now.

The paper was yellowed, the ink faded, but the message was still as sharp as a blade. It was the final deadline from the Black Sun Syndicate.

"Seven days" the letter read in bold, blood-red ink. "Deliver what you owe, or we will come for what is ours".

Castian's grip tightened around the letter, crumpling it in his hand.

The Black Sun Syndicate was no mere criminal group—they were a force of nature, ruthless and unrelenting. They dealt in everything from illegal trades to extortion, and their reputation for cruelty was legendary.

Castian knew all too well the consequences of crossing them.

Their reach stretched far beyond the borders of his empire, and the thought that his family might be caught in their web of violence filled him with dread.

He had made a mistake—an unforgivable mistake.

The loan he had taken, desperate to keep his family’s name intact and shield them from the prying eyes of rival families, had been from the wrong people. He had been blinded by his pride, his desperation to appear strong, to protect his family’s honor at all costs.

But now the price of that mistake was about to be paid, and Castian feared there would be nothing left for his family when it was done.

A soft knock at the door broke the heavy silence of the room, and Castian’s gaze lifted from the letter, his expression darkening further.

“Come in,” he called, his voice heavy with fatigue.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Ava.

His youngest daughter, her face pale and drawn, stood in the doorway holding a tray. She was carrying a simple meal—nothing more than a bowl of soup and some bread, but it was enough to show her concern. Her eyes, normally bright and full of curiosity, now held a subdued, anxious gleam.

“Father, you haven’t eaten all day” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

Castian forced a faint smile onto his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Ava. Leave it here”

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Ava stepped forward, her hands trembling slightly as she placed the tray on the desk. Castian noticed the slight shake in her hands, the subtle unease in her movements, and his heart sank.

He had seen that look before—fear. He had failed to shield his family from the looming storm, and it seemed that even Ava, the youngest, could feel it.

“Ava” he said gently, his voice softening, “is something wrong?”

Ava hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor as if she were unsure of whether or not to speak her fears aloud.

After a moment, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I... I heard whispers in the market. People are saying the Black Sun is already here, watching us”.

Castian’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as his gaze fell upon her. “Who told you this?”

“A merchant. He said he saw men in black cloaks near the estate last night”.

His stomach twisted with dread. If the Black Sun’s agents were already here, then time was running out faster than he’d feared.

The danger wasn’t coming—it was already here.

“Don’t leave the estate” he ordered, his tone sharp despite himself. “Hurry, go hide in the hidden passage reserved to servants”.

Ava’s eyes shimmered with unspoken fear, but she didn’t argue. “But, Father—”

“No arguments,” Castian said, his voice softening but firm. “Go now”.

Ava nodded, her eyes filling with a quiet, unspoken terror, and left the study without another word.

Castian’s gaze lingered on the door as it closed behind her, his mind racing with all the ways in which he had failed his family.

—

Elsewhere in the Estate

Jace stood in the training courtyard, his body drenched in sweat as he gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles white from the force.

His movements were frantic, each strike coming faster, more desperate than the last.

The wooden dummy before him took the brunt of his fury as his sword cleaved through the air again and again, each blow landing with a resounding thud.

His shirt clung to his back, soaked with sweat, but he didn’t stop.

“I need to get stronger” he muttered between labored breaths, the words escaping his lips in a whisper that only the wind could hear.

His thoughts were a storm of frustration and fear.

He had heard the whispers too—the same ones that had reached Ava’s ears—and he had seen the unease in the servants’ faces as they moved about the estate, whispering among themselves.

The feeling of impending doom hung in the air like a thick fog, and no one dared to speak it aloud, but the tension was palpable.

“I can’t let this happen” Jace thought bitterly, his grip tightening further on the hilt of his sword. “Hope isn’t here to protect us. It’s up to me”.

But deep down, he knew the truth. He was still in the early stages of the Body Transformation Realm. His strength was nothing compared to the power of the Black Sun’s agents. Against them, he might as well be a child wielding a stick.

The thought gnawed at him, the fear twisting his gut as he struck at the dummy with even greater force.

He couldn’t fail them.

He couldn’t let Ava or his father face the Black Sun alone. He was all they had left, and if he couldn’t protect them, then everything would fall apart.

The image of Ava’s terrified face flashed in his mind, and the weight of that fear fueled his desperation.

His sword swung faster, harder, as if he could strike the fear itself from the world.

—

Beyond the Estate Walls

Unseen by the Fallen family, shadows gathered beyond the estate’s walls.

Cloaked figures moved swiftly and silently, their steps as quiet as death itself. They were like phantoms, their movements precise, cold and calculated.

One of the figures stepped forward, his voice low and menacing as he spoke to the others.

“The estate is unguarded. The father is desperate. The son is weak. They will break easily”.

Another figure, his voice gravelly and full of contempt, nodded in agreement. “What of the boy who left? The one called Hope?”

“The report says he’s cultivating in the forest” the first figure replied with a cruel smile.

“Leave him. By the time he returns, there will be nothing left for him to protect”.

A sickening sense of finality hung in the air as the group prepared to move.

“Begin preparations. At dawn, we strike”.

—

Back in the Forest

Unaware of the storm that was closing in on his family, Hope continued his cultivation, his focus unbroken as the energy of the earth flowed into him.

The ground beneath him seemed alive with power, the very essence of the land surging through him as he honed his body and sharpened his resolve.

The deep connection he felt with the earth, with the land that had nurtured him, was intoxicating—more than intoxicating, it was a lifeline.

But as the hours passed and the night deepened, a strange unease began to creep into Hope’s mind.

It was faint, a nagging sensation that tugged at his thoughts like a distant whisper, something he couldn’t place but felt nonetheless.

The sensation grew with each passing moment, like a storm slowly gathering strength on the horizon. The stillness of the forest, the quiet hum of the wind through the trees, all seemed to echo the tension in his chest.

Hope shook the feeling off.

There was no time for distractions, no time for second-guessing.

He had a mission: to grow stronger, to protect those he loved.

Whatever this sensation was, it would have to wait. The path ahead was clear, and he would walk it—no matter the cost.

The night deepened, the world around him quiet save for the distant rustling of the trees.

The first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, its pale rays slicing through the darkness like a blade, heralding the arrival of a new day.

And with that first light, the shadows began to move.