The air in the chamber was thick with the coppery scent of blood, torchlight flickering against stone walls to cast grotesque shadows that twisted and writhed. Cultists encircled an altar at the center, their hooded figures chanting in a guttural, haunting language that seemed to vibrate in Rauden’s bones. He lay strapped to the cold stone slab, chains digging into his wrists and ankles, each struggle futile as the restraints held him down. His eyes, sharp and wide with terror, darted to the cultists, focusing on their leader as he stepped forward, a twisted dagger glinting in his grasp. The leader’s voice rose, echoing through the chamber as he raised the dagger high. Rauden’s heart thundered, his breath hitching as the blade plunged down, tearing into his flesh. A scream tore from his throat, more primal and raw than anything he’d known, as pain exploded through his abdomen, blood hot and thick pooling across the altar. The sigil branded onto his chest flared, its burning light spilling over the edges of the wound. The cultist twisted the blade, grinding against bone, and Rauden’s vision wavered, darkening at the edges as his strength ebbed away. The sigil pulsed again, its light hungry, consuming. His heart slowed, breath fading, and the chants rose, frenzied and feverish.

When Rauden’s eyes fluttered open again, agony still throbbing through him, he froze at the sight before him. His sister Lily was nailed to a wooden cross in the clearing, her once vibrant eyes now dull and lifeless. Blood dripped from the jagged nails in her wrists and ankles, her limbs hanging limp, her face frozen in a silent scream. Horror flooded Rauden’s veins as he turned, only to find his other sister, Anna, torn apart, her body broken into five pieces arranged into a pentagon around him, blood pooling at each point in the dirt. It was as though reality itself had fractured; he wanted to scream, to deny it all, but his voice failed him, trapped somewhere between disbelief and terror. The sigil on his chest pulsed again, feeding on his despair, his breath quickening as the edges of his mind began to fray. This couldn’t be real—it had to be an illusion. He struggled to escape, desperate to wake from this nightmare. Then pain exploded in his chest, and the sigil flared, flooding his senses with a brightness that seared away the world.

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Darkness wrapped around him, the pain finally fading as his awareness slipped. When he gasped back to life, cold air filled his lungs, and his eyes flew open, his surroundings unfamiliar. The air, the light—everything was different. Rauden pushed himself upright, his heart racing as he took in his own hands—small, delicate, childlike. The floor beneath him was worn, old wood creaking with each movement. As he glanced around the room, he saw that he was in a dilapidated house, its walls sagging, its windows cracked, everything coated in dust. The entire place felt like a shadow of what had once been a home, abandoned to decay. His breath came fast, each shallow gasp spurred by confusion as he staggered through room after room, each more broken and desolate than the last, until he found the library.

The door groaned as he pushed it open, revealing towering shelves of neglected books scattered across the floor, their pages yellowed with age. But at the center of the room, something gleamed—a massive book resting on a pedestal, radiating an otherworldly glow that cut through the suffocating darkness. The book shone like a beacon, untouched by the shadows pressing in around it. Drawn to the light, Rauden reached out, his small hand brushing against the warm, thrumming cover, power humming beneath his fingertips. He gritted his teeth, straining to open it, but the book held firm. Suddenly, the sigil on his chest flared to life, blazing with a light that stole the air from his lungs. A scream ripped from him as pain roared through his body, the sigil absorbing the book’s glow, heat so intense he feared he might combust. His veins seared with energy, his hand trembling as his vision blurred. The room trembled, and then a blinding beam of light erupted, slicing through the roof and lancing into the sky. As darkness reclaimed him, he collapsed, his breath gone, the sigil now cold and lifeless against his chest.