The blackened sky above was a reflection of Castian’s thoughts as he staggered through the ruins of his home.

The once-pristine walls were now smeared with the blood of those he loved. His breath came in ragged gasps, his mind still reeling from the events that had shattered everything he held dear.

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When the Black Sun Syndicate had stormed the estate, she had fled to the hidden servant’s passage, where only a few knew of its existence.

She crouched in the dark, her heart pounding in her chest as she pressed herself against the cold stone walls. The air reeked of death—her father, her brother, and the servants… gone. She had heard the screams, the sickening sounds of bodies hitting the floor, but she stayed hidden.

She had to survive.

Now, she was alone in a shattered world, but she wasn’t foolish enough to go searching for her family’s remains.

The Black Sun Syndicate had left after taking all their money and Jace’s life, but not before making sure Castian felt the full weight of their cruelty.

But for now, she would stay hidden and bide her time.

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The courtyard was silent now. The screams of agony had faded, leaving only the occasional drip of blood onto the stone ground, the remnants of a life force extinguished.

Jace’s body lay motionless, still as death itself.

His chest no longer rose with the shallow breath of life, and the poison had spread its corruption through his veins, leaving nothing behind but a husk.

Castian could feel his son’s presence, faint, as if a thread of energy still clung to the boy’s dying soul. But it was slipping away.

He had failed.

The weight of the decision loomed over him like a shadow, suffocating him with the unbearable knowledge that his son’s death had been the result of his own weakness.

He could have saved him, could have paid the price—given his own life—but instead, he had faltered.

And now there was nothing left but the haunting silence of defeat.

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Kaelen’s voice echoed in his ears as Castian stumbled away from the body of his son, his bloodied hands trembling.

“Choose, Castian. Your son’s life or your own”.

The words played over and over in his mind, each repetition a painful reminder of the crossroads he had faced—and failed.

But there was no turning back now. The Black Sun Syndicate had made sure of that. The poison had done its work, and no amount of willpower could undo the damage done to Jace’s fragile body.

They had won.

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Castian’s thoughts wandered back to the deal they had struck. The price, the sacrifice—it was all part of their cruel game.

But what if he didn’t take a loan from them?

What if he wasn’t so prideful as to refuse a loan from other noble families?

Why did he have to choose such organizations?

The thought gnawed at Castian, but there was no time for second-guessing now.

He couldn’t change the past.

But maybe, just maybe, he could change the future.

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Castian’s eyes turned toward the distant mountains, where the flickering lights of a faraway city could be seen in the distance. His family’s empire was crumbling, and there was nothing left for him here—nothing except the bitter taste of failure.

But there was one thing Castian still had: his resolve.

He could feel it rising in him, a fire long buried beneath years of complacency.

He had always thought himself a man of honor, of duty—but that was before the Black Sun Syndicate had shown him what true darkness looked like.

Now, he was something else.

Something new.

With a grim set to his jaw, Castian made his decision.

He would take what was left of his family, his shattered legacy, and strike back.

But first, there was something he needed to do.

With Jace’s body on his back he set off to a temple now a relic of the past.

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The journey to the ancient temple took a couple of hours but in Castian’s perception it felt never ending but he had pushed forward, driven by a singular thought: redemption.

The path had been lost to time, but the temple had always been there, buried beneath the mountains, waiting for someone desperate enough to seek its power.

Now, Castian stood before the crumbling stone entrance, Jace’s body now cold on his back, the dark shadows of the past beckoning him inside.

This place was older than the Eldora Empire itself, steeped in forgotten knowledge and forbidden rituals.

Legends spoke of those who had entered the temple and emerged transformed—more powerful than mortal men, able to defy death itself.

Castian’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the threshold. There was no turning back now.

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Inside the temple, the air was thick with ancient energy, and the faint glow of runes covered the walls like a map to a forbidden power.

In the center of the temple, a stone altar stood, surrounded by carvings depicting Gods long lost to history. Castian approached it slowly, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch the cold stone.

“Are you sure you wish to proceed?” a voice whispered in the darkness, ancient and malevolent.

Castian’s heart skipped a beat, but he stood firm. He had already made his choice.

“I want to bring him back” Castian said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. “My son. I will pay any price”.

The voice laughed, a low, hollow sound that echoed through the temple’s chambers.

“Any price, you say?” The voice was full of mockery. “Very well, Castian. The price is steep, but you will have what you seek. One life for another. One soul for another”.

Castian’s pulse quickened. “I’ll do whatever it takes”.

“Place the body on the altar so that it can open the portal then step through it” The voice said.

As soon as he place the body on the altar it began to glow, a fiery light illuminating the chamber. The air around him thickened, and he felt a sudden pressure on his chest as if the very temple were breathing around him.

The ground cracked open, and a dark portal emerged, swirling with the energy of death itself.

“Step through, Castian” the voice urged. “And you will have your son. But remember—there is always a price”.

Without hesitation, Castian stepped into the portal.

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When Castian emerged on the other side, his body felt heavier, as though a great weight had been placed upon him.

He looked around, and there, before him, stood Jace—alive, but different. His skin was pale, his eyes darkened with an unnatural gleam, and his very presence seemed to ripple with an eerie power.

“Father…” Jace’s voice was faint, distant, as though he were still far away.

Castian’s heart lurched as he reached out for his son. “Jace! You’re alive! But—what happened?”

Jace looked at him, a cold smile crossing his face.

“The price, Father,” Jace whispered. “The price was paid”.

And as the words left his lips, Castian realized the truth too late.

Jace was not the same boy who had once laughed and sparred with him in the training grounds.

The ritual had worked—but at a cost far greater than Castian had ever imagined.