Silence. Not the kind that soothed, but the kind that suffocated—a hollow stillness that belonged to a world long forgotten. Reven awoke to the cold first. It crept through his skin, burrowing into his bones like a parasite. Then came the ache—deep, gnawing, ancient. His body felt like it had been abandoned, left to decay and gather dust.
His eyes flickered open. The sky stretched above him, but it was wrong. A swirling expanse of violet and gravy churned like an open wound, its clouds twisting unnaturally. Distant embers of light pulsed on the horizon, flickering like dying stars. He inhaled sharply. The air was stale, tinged with something metallic.
Stone pressed against his back, cracked and weathered with time. Slowly, Reven forced himself upright, his muscles stiff and uncooperative. His clothes were tattered, his leather tunic worn through in places, his crimson cloak frayed at the edges. A weight at his hip made him glance down. His hand brushed cold metal. His sword. The familiar grip steadied him. But the question remained. Where was he?
His mind was a shattered puzzle, pieces missing, others smeared with the residue of something he couldn't name. He remembered fire—an inferno roaring against the sky. He remembered voices, their words distant and urgent. And he remembered pain. Searing. Endless. Now there was only silence.
Reven surveyed his surroundings. The ruins stretched in every direction, the remains of what must have once been a great city. Towers leaned like broken ribs, their stone facades split open, swallowed by creeping vines and luminescent fungi. This place was dead. Had been for a long time.
Then came the growl. Low. Guttural. Instinct took over before thought. His grip on the sword tightened as he turned. Eyes. Glowing, slitted, watching him from the shadows of a crumbling archway. Another pair appeared. Then another. Shadows slithered forward, coalescing into forms—hulking, twisted creatures with matted fur and jagged spines protruding from their backs. Their elongated limbs moved with an unnatural grace, their claws clicking against the stone.
A name surfaced in his mind. Voidspawn. He didn't know how he knew it. He only knew that they were hunters. And he was prey. The largest of the creatures bared its serrated teeth, exhaling a breath thick with rot. Reven took a slow step back. He was weak. Unsteady. Outnumbered. His body screamed at him to run. So he did.
The beasts lunged. He twisted, vaulting over a shattered column as claws raked through empty air where he had stood a heartbeat before. He hit the ground in a roll, the impact jolting through his bones. Howls echoed behind him. He wove through the ruins, his breath ragged. His legs burned, but he couldn't stop. A single misstep meant death. His mind scrambled for a plan, some way to shift the odds. Then—an opening. A collapsed structure loomed ahead, its entrance a jagged maw of darkness. If he could reach it.
The Voidspawn leapt. Reven dropped at the last second, sliding beneath a fallen beam. Claws scraped against stone inches from his head. He pushed off the ground, sprinting the last few steps before diving inside. The world shrank to darkness. Dust exploded around him as he hit the cold floor. He scrambled deeper into the ruins, his breaths sharp and uneven. Behind him, the Voidspawn snarled in frustration, their massive forms too large to fit through the narrow gap. Reven didn't stop. He followed the twisting corridors, letting instinct guide him. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and decay. Symbols, barely visible beneath layers of dust, marked the walls—ancient carvings, their meaning lost to time.
Then he saw it. At the chamber's heart stood an archway, lined with intricate engravings. Suspended at its centre was a fragment of metal, hovering in mid-air. It pulsed. A slow, steady rhythm. A heartbeat. Reven's breath caught. The fragment called to him. He stepped forward. The moment his fingers brushed its surface, the world shattered.
A surge of raw power flooded his veins, burning like liquid fire. His mind was not his own. Visions consumed him—war, forgotten gods, a world broken and reforged in ruin. The pain was unbearable. Reven gasped as the memories faded, leaving him kneeling on the stone, his body trembling. The fragment was gone.
No. Not gone. Inside him. He could feel it—woven into his very being, pulsing with an energy that was both foreign and familiar. The ruins trembled. The chamber walls cracked, the ceiling groaning. Stone began to collapse. Reven didn't hesitate. He turned and ran, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and revelation. He didn't know what had just happened. What he had just become. But one thing was certain. He wasn't the same man who had woken in these ruins. And the world would soon know it.