The place had no beginning, no end. There was no light, no sound, no nothing. Any form of matter meant possible escape. It was forbidden.

There were stories about this place. Stories of civilisation in certain areas. Those were the only places where matter existed, but no one knew for sure if they were real. No one ever returned from those places. From this place. Those who did find out could never tell the stories.

This place was the worst of them. A prison one could never escape. No one really believed this place was real. It was nothing but a story used to calm children frightened of bad people. Parents sung lullabies of warnings about the prison, though most were too young to realise their true meaning. Very few knew this place was real. A forbidden secret.

Most denied its existed. Others were punished for speaking the prison’s name.

Most chose to forget it. It faded from truth to story. From story to legend. From legend to nothing.

Nothing was an appropriate way to describe this place, the man though. He’d been in the nothingness for who knew how long. Time wasn’t real here, just a lie the Guardians used. Five minutes could be five years. Five years could be five hundred. No sun rose each day. No stars appeared each nice. No souls came by, telling of what happened back there. Back in Creation.

There was nothing. No one.

The man questioned if he was alive. He could feel his power, that eternal ancient voice whispering in his mind through the darkness. The voice of Naka.

He did not remember his own name. He did not remember who he was, only what he was. He knew his purpose. He would lead Creation through the Age of Darkness. It was his destiny, the voice would whisper. Inevitable. If he was not the one to do it, it would still happen but no one would survive.

He would save them.

He would be their King.

But there was something standing in his way. Someone who had to be destroyed to reach his goal. Her voice, her power, her voice, they haunted his dreams. The darkness would remind him she was the one to put him here. She was the one who banished him. She was the one who had to be stopped to save everyone. Or she would destroy everything.

There were others, many others, who had fallen victim to her lies, who feared her power. They followed her blindly, refused to question anything. They would die for her. And there was no way to save them. They were the ones who would need to go next when he escaped.

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If he escaped.

The man resented light but he needed it now. Light was what would free him. Light would show him the way back to Creation.

Every waking moment he would search for the light. Every waking moment he would fail. But he had a feeling today would be different. Today would be the day he escaped.

And there it was.

A thin line of light came into his sight. It grew brighter and grew longer. The line split, opening into a tear in the worlds. A doorway back to where he needed to bed. The man willed himself toward it, reaching a hand toward the light. He touched it—

The darkness was gone, light shimmering around him. His bare feet landed on soft green grass. There was matter here, feeling. He closed his glowing red eyes and breathed in the fresh air. A light breeze ruffled his long white hair.

A voice, a woman, spoke. “We are your loyal subjects, My King.”

He looked down at the dark-haired woman.

“I have freed you,” she said, “so that you may begin the mission you begun so long ago.”

“How long?” the man asked.

The woman dared looked at him, dark eyes wide with awe. “Five thousand years, My King.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

The man held a hand a hand up to the light, marvelling at his skin. He was far paler than before, almost white. A dim red light shone around his fingers. The light moved around his body, covering him. Ancient Terpolite red-and-gold robes covered his body. The man felt his power build up inside. It grew stronger, stronger, stronger.

He roared at the sky, releasing his power in an explosion of reed. He laughed with joy at its return, at the ability to use it. The voice in his mind was no longer a whisper, it laughed with him. His power spread, the grass turning from green to brown, turning stones to dust, turning trees to ash. Everyone was to know of his return.

The man’s gaze returned to the woman and the others behind her, all in states of awe and joy at his display. “What is my name?”

“Enliatu Acheron, My King,” she answered.

Enliatu. Yes. That had been his name back then. It sounded strange but right.

“What is yours?” he asked the woman.

She bowed. “Tara Kymmer, My King.”

“Tara,” he repeated. The man folded his hands over his arms, the sleeves of his robes covering them entirely. “For freeing me, you will receive a great reward once we bring about the Age of Darkness. A place at my side.” He walked through the black dust, all that remained of the grass. “It is time for the new Age to begin, Tara.”

“Thank you, My King.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Tell me, in the time I have been away, has the one who imprisoned me been taken care of.”

She grimaced. “No, My King. Amneris is . . . She is difficult. Her power continues to grow. She is stronger than she was back then and has a Court loyal to her.” Tara looked at her feet. “Even my own brother was so weak as to join her.”

Enliatu nodded. “Good.” He grinned for the first time in ages. “I can take care of her myself.”

Tara looked up, eyes filled with hope. “You can stop her? Truly?”

“Of course,” he answered. “She may have defeated me last time, but I have been patient.” Enliatu turned to the horizon. “This time, I will be victorious.”