Pinecrest

———Red———

I stand and grab the cloth she dropped, wrapping it tightly around my arm. The sun rises in the distance, casting a pale light over the charred rubble. Villagers gather in the center, their faces a mix of sorrow, disgust, and some faint glimmers of praise. I move through the crowd, every step heavy with their judgment. Then, King Conrod steps forward from his keep, pointing directly at me.

"Red Smith, look at what you've caused here," he bellows.

I clench my jaw. "This isn't my fault, Conrod. Don't even try to pin this on me. I went into the woods tracking a deer and that... thing attacked me."

Conrod laughs, a bitter sound. "You led it here. This destruction is on your hands."

My anger boils over. "Really? You're one to talk. If your guards had done their job—"

"They were up against a werewolf, Red," he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. "What did you expect them to do?"

I point back at him, my voice rising. "And what the hell did you want me to do?"

"You didn't have to lead it straight into the village."

"I led it here so your guards could kill it! And while we're pointing fingers, let's not forget my sister was taken by that thing. My brother left yesterday, and now it's just me. I'm going to rescue her. So you can either sit here on your throne and blame me or do something useful and help find her. Your choice. But either way, your people are the ones who'll suffer."

Conrod's face hardens. He motions to his guards. "Take him. Put him in the prison for endangering the village."

I look around at the crowd. "Is everyone hearing this? A beast ravages the town, and your king blames me, the one who was hunted!"

But no one speaks. They just stand there, watching.

The guards close in, their hands ready to seize me. I step back, keeping my distance. "Touch me, and you'll regret it." My voice is a low growl. "I'm leaving. I'll find my sister on my own. You're all responsible for what happened here, especially you, King Fuckrod."

With that, I grab the silver axe from the ground and strap it to my side. "You'll regret this."

I sprint as the guards rush toward me. Reaching my hidden exit, I slide into a hole beneath the wall, pulling myself through. I hear the guards scrambling, confused.

"Where did he go? How did we lose him?" one yells.

"Keep searching!" Conrod's voice booms from above.

I slip out the other side and make my escape, heading toward Grimhold Peak. Hours pass before I reach the neighboring village of Harrow's Rest, its buildings nestled in the shadow of the towering mountain. The weight of everything presses down on me, but I keep moving.

I enter the village walls, making my way to the inn. I had been here once before with Kylen and everything seemed to be in the same place it was then. Although some of the shops names were different than I remember.

Once inside the Inn, I approach the bar where a man watches me closely.

"How many nights?" he asks before I can speak.

"Just one," I reply, handing him ten crowns. "Which one do I—"

He scribbles something down. "Find a bed, doesn't matter which. They're all pretty crap."

"Could've mentioned that before I paid," I mutter, but there's nowhere else to go.

I find an empty room, placing my gear on a table in the corner before collapsing onto the bed.

The room's small, even smaller than I expected. The wooden walls are dark and worn, patched in places where time or poor craftsmanship has left its mark. The air is thick with the musty scent of stale ale and sweat, as if the inn's seen one too many travelers like me, passing through without a care. A single, grimy window lets in a weak sliver of daylight, barely enough to brighten the space. Dust swirls in the beam, hanging in the stillness.

The bed sits against the far wall, sagging in the middle like it's given up trying to be comfortable years ago. The sheets look more like rags, stained and thin, but it's the only place I've got to rest. A worn-out, threadbare blanket is tossed over the top, like an afterthought.

I roll over onto my side from my back, and the frame creaks loudly beneath my weight. Feels like it might collapse any second.

A rough-hewn table stands in the corner with a single chair, both of which are as crooked as the rest of the room. Speaking of that table, when I set my bow, quiver, and axe on it, the legs wobbled slightly, threatening to tip over. Made me think they'd be better off on the floor.

There's no fireplace, just a small lantern that flickers on the windowsill, casting strange shadows against the walls. At least there's a mirror, though it's cracked, distorting my reflection like a bad omen.

This place feels temporary, like everything in here is made to be forgotten the moment you leave. Not exactly a haven, but better than sleeping in the woods. For now, it'll do.

My body aches, exhaustion seeping into my bones as I close my eyes.

Darkness surrounds me, swirling with red streaks that glide through the black. A faint purple light flickers. Then I hear her.

"Red..." Alyse's voice, distant but clear. "Be careful. Don't trust what he says. He wants—"

I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

Another voice interrupts. "Red, meet me by Grimhold River, near the base of the mountain. I'll be waiting."

The voice fades, unfamiliar yet strangely compelling. A golden line shimmers through the darkness as I snap awake. Sunlight streams through the window, dust floating lazily in the air. Confusion settles in—what time is it? And what was that dream? It felt weird, almost like a fever dream with how quick and simple it was, but it still felt real, as if Alyse was truly reaching out to me.

I grab my gear and leave the room. The innkeeper nods as I pass.

"Beds are as bad as you said," I mutter.

"What? I never said that! You son of a—don't come back here again!" he shouts as I slam the door behind me.

I walk through the village, heading toward the forest once more, searching for the place described in my dream. Grimhold Peak looms ahead, and somewhere near its base, by the Grimhold River, my next step waits.

Looking into the distance I see the sun begin to hang low in the sky, the answer to my earlier question of what time it was, I'm guessing I had only slept for maybe six hours at most. I'm not too bothered to be honest, even though I didn't sleep last night. What little rest I got was enough.

There is still this sense of unease sitting in my gut, the idea that Alyse is in more danger than I can fathom, or worse... I can't let my mind go there though, I can't let those dark thoughts linger and cloud my resolve.

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I waited there for hours until a large white stag approached me. It's antlers were massive and it's shoulders were broad. The winds began to pick up and I heard an echo in them. The noise became a word, the word became a name.

"Red, you are here. I'm glad you came."

I looked at the stag closer and watched as a white aura glowed from it.

"What are you?" I said with fright.

"My name is Udis. I'm the Daem of... well I suppose that's not relevant." I walked closer to him.

"Madness... you're the Daem of Madness. Why are you here?" I ask.

"Do I look mad to you?" He asks, almost defensively. He bursts into flames and transforms right before my eyes, becoming a man. "I am here because you need help. I need help too. I figured we could help each other."

From where I stand, Udis is the embodiment of every nightmare that has ever clawed its way into my head. His presence feels like madness made flesh, a constant wrongness that seeps into the air around him, twisting the world just by existing in it.

His form is human enough at first glance, tall, gaunt, and draped in a tattered cloak that billows with every movement, as if the air around him is always unsettled. His skin is a sickly shade of gray, like it's drained of life, stretched too tight over bones that seem just a little too sharp. His eyes are the worst, glowing with a wild, predatory light, like the full moon caught in a permanent eclipse. They're not just looking at me, they're crawling into my mind, trying to peel back the layers of sanity and find something vulnerable beneath.

His hair, long and matted, cascades down in wild tangles, blending into the cloak that trails behind him. There's an animalistic quality to it, like it hasn't been touched by human hands in centuries, thick with grime and streaked with something darker. His face is angular, hollowed, with a smile that stretches too wide, cracked lips curling into something more like a snarl, full of teeth that aren't quite human.

When he moves, it's unnatural, jagged and fluid at the same time, like a beast that hasn't quite learned how to wear the skin of a man. His fingers are long, twisted, with nails that resemble claws more than anything else, caked in dirt and blood from things I don't want to imagine.

And then there's his voice. It slithers and squeaks through the air like poison, low and full of an unsettling humor, as if every word is part of some cosmic joke only he understands. There's a madness in the way he speaks, a frenzy barely contained beneath the surface, threatening to break free at any moment. When he laughs, it's sharp and sudden, cutting through the space like glass, as if he's finding joy in chaos itself.

But it's his shadow, the way it flickers and stretches, it makes my skin crawl.

Udis isn't just a fallen god or a Daem. He's a living, breathing force of madness and destruction, a walking storm of chaos, and the longer I look at him, the more I feel the cracks in my own mind beginning to form.

I shake my head, trying to force the sight of him from my mind. "Why would I ever help a Daem?"

Udis grins, something sinister curling at the edge of his cracked lips. "Because, Red, I know who took her. Your sister, Alyse. She was taken by someone I've long had a feud with." He pauses, savoring the moment, as if the name itself burns his tongue. "Muthos. Daem of vampires, dark magic, and... beasts." His voice falters on the last word, almost trembling with something he's holding back.

I narrow my eyes. "And you're saying Muthos has Alyse?"

His smile widens, unsettlingly. "Yes. He dragged her into his domain, The Shores of Malice."

I pace in front of him, my mind racing. "How do I get there, to the Shores?"

Udis points lazily toward my injured arm, his long, crooked finger like a sickle. "You're already halfway there. The wound, it's half your key. Only beasts can enter the Shores of Malice. Beasts... and the dead."

I pause. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He chuckles, low and bitter. "I can sense it in you. You've been marked. That thing you fought, it gave you its gift. The moment its claws sank into your flesh, you were tainted." His eyes gleam with twisted amusement. "That's your ticket in."

Gift. The word hangs bitterly in the air. What a funny way of saying it, losing your mind and turning into... one of those... things. I clutch my arm, feeling the sharp sting of the wound. "So this curse is my key... but where's the gate?"

Udis reaches to his side, producing a small flask from beneath his tattered cloak. "Slay a vampire. If you're lucky, they'll leave behind something valuable, void powder. It's the only way to open a gate without plunging into the Void itself." He hands me the flask, his fingers brushing against mine, cold and unnatural. "Collect enough to fill this, and when you're ready, picture the Shores of Malice in your mind. Then, drink deep."

I hesitate, taking the flask. "Why me? Why can't you deal with Muthos yourself?"

His expression darkens, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I can't kill one of my own, Red. If I did, the others would turn against me, and there'd be chaos. You, however... you can slip beneath the cracks. You're the only one who can kill him and save your sister. I've chosen you for this. Don't let me down."

Before I can respond, his body begins to distort, flames licking at his edges. His form crackles, warping as his skin begins to blacken. "Remember," he says, his voice fading into the crackling fire, "you're her only hope."

In an instant, he's gone, leaving nothing but the unsettling silence and the flask in my hand.

Malice

———Domnik———

I enter the throne room, a place as dark and oppressive as the underworld itself. Demons and fallen angels line the chamber, their twisted gazes following me as I walk the blood-red carpet toward the throne, my father's throne. Galagon sits there, smug and expectant, his smile widening like a crack in the earth.

"Nineteen years, Domnik," he begins, his voice echoing in the chamber. "You've spent nineteen years here, learning everything you needed to. You've trained under the best fighters in Malice. Now, the time has come. Today, you shall take my... your father's throne and become the new ruler of the underworld. You will continue the legacy we Daem began so long ago."

I meet his gaze and nod, trying to mask the disdain boiling under my skin. "I will."

He stands, removing the blackened crown from his head, and as I ascend the steps to the throne, he places it on mine. The crowd erupts into applause, though it feels more like a chorus of chains rattling in the deep.

"This plane is yours now," he says, his voice full of weight and false generosity.

I nod again. Behind me, the room empties as the sycophants file out, leaving me alone with him.

"I'm sure you're tired after all this. Get some rest," he says, his tone now softer, like a father pretending to care. "We'll discuss the details of your... adventure tomorrow." He smiles that sickly smile.

I return it, forcing the muscles in my face to obey. "Of course."

I turn and leave, walking calmly toward my chambers, my hand instinctively brushing against the hidden hilt of DragonsBreath, camouflaged under the spell I'd woven. Soon, I think. Soon, this blade will drink his blood. That is your true purpose, DragonsBreath, to kill him. To set me free.

Inside my room, I carefully open the chest at the foot of my bed, placing the blade inside. I run my fingers along its edges, feeling the power thrumming through it. Smiling to myself, I close the chest and move to the pedestal where my old crown once sat. I take it down, replacing it with the crown of my father.

"Oh, mother," I whisper, my voice soft in the stillness. "You should have returned by now. You would have enjoyed today. How you hated him... the way he groveled for your approval." I pause, staring at the crown, imagining her reaction when it's done. "But he's not the only one. Once he's gone, I'll take his brothers, and then..."

I look at my reflection in the mirror, the fire in my eyes burning bright with the madness of my plan. "Then, mother, I'll come for you."

I lay in my bed but sleep doesn't come. The excitement, the anticipation, it keeps me trembling with energy. I grab the DragonsBreath from my crate and slip out of my room, moving silently down the hall. I don't want to draw attention, especially not from Galagon. In the Gate Room, I consider the gateway, but activating it now would be too risky. The noise certain to draw suspicion.

Then it hits me, this is my world now. My power reigns here now without limitations. I flick my wrist and tear a rift through the Void, the shimmering darkness pulling me through.

Stepping into the Void, I feel the familiar swirl of colors consume me, pulling me back to Naurus. This journey isn't planned. I just need to clear my head, away from the suffocating stench of Malice, it's just not the same there, to say the least.

Though where I've been lead, it starts to remind me of home in a way. I walk along a village road. Nothing but ash beneath my boots. The buildings here are hollow shells, with only a few chimneys standing as sentinels to the destruction.

I spot a blacksmith, one of the few who remained after the devastation. He works tirelessly, forging a blade in the fading light.

"Hello," I say, stepping closer.

The man looks up, his eyes tired but watchful. "Who are you?"

I drop my hood, glancing at the weapons displayed on the rack. "Just a traveler. Are these all your work?"

He shakes his head. "No, the boy who ran this place is gone. Disappeared after the attack. I've been keeping up with orders for the Empire, hoping they'll send help in return."

"An attack?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

His hammer strikes silver now, shaping it into a gleaming blade. "Werewolf. Came through the village. Killed many."

"Where did it go?"

He gestures north. "Disappeared into some portal."

I clench my fists. "Udis..." I mutter under my breath.

The blacksmith glances up. "You believe in that, do you? The stories? Looked like him, according to the scriptures."

"I believe it," I say, already turning away. "Thank you, but I have to go."

He waves half-heartedly, muttering something about peace as I leave but peace is the last thing I feel.

I make my way to a lone standing house, resting my hand on the door. The air around me changes, growing hotter. It feels as though a storm is coming. The weight of the atmosphere makes it clear, I'm not the only one.

"Another like me... how, where?" I ask as the feeling fades.

"How... how is that possible?" I whisper to myself as a strange mist begins to form, a path of light stretching out before me.

It leads north. Back to Grimhold Peak.