The Boy's Choice
Flames roared in the distance as the boy stepped closer to his future self. The older version of him stood tall, his presence commanding, his black and gold armor gleaming with an eerie brilliance.
"You fear what you will become."
The boy's hands clenched into fists. "I don't understand."
His future self gave a knowing smile.
"Then watch."
The city around them shifted.
The fires dimmed. The bodies disappeared.
And in their place, a grand empire arose.
Towering spires of obsidian stretched toward the sky, banners bearing the sigil of a shattered sun fluttered in the wind. Legions of warriors clad in golden armor stood at attention, their gazes unwavering.
At the heart of it all—a throne of obsidian and gold.
The boy's breath hitched.
"This is what we were meant to be," his future self said. "Rulers. Conquerors. The last of our bloodline, restoring what was stolen from us."
The boy felt the pull—the weight of destiny pressing against him.
But deep within, something resisted.
"What if I don't want this?" he whispered.
The older version of him turned, his golden eyes darkening.
"Then you will be hunted until you break. Until you realize that power is not a choice, but a responsibility."
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"And by then, it may be too late."
The vision shattered.
The boy gasped, collapsing to his knees as the real world came rushing back.
The Keeper watched in silence.
"Now you understand," he said.
The boy wiped the sweat from his brow.
"I understand one thing," he murmured. "I'm running out of time."
---
Seraphina's Battle
Seraphina's blade clashed against the first of the shadow warriors.
They moved like wraiths—fast, relentless, their forms shifting between substance and smoke.
Her older self fought beside her, striking with deadly precision.
"Focus," the older Seraphina barked. "The bloodline does not favor the weak."
Seraphina gritted her teeth, spinning to dodge an incoming strike. She countered with a fierce slash, cutting through one of the warriors—only for it to reform instantly.
Her breath hitched. "They're—"
"—Not real."
The older version of her swung her glowing blade, dispersing three warriors in a single stroke.
"This is a test," she continued. "A lesson in control. The bloodline is awakening within you—if you do not master it, it will master you."
Seraphina exhaled sharply.
Then, she closed her eyes.
She could feel it.
A pulse of golden fire deep within her veins, waiting to be unleashed.
When she opened her eyes again, they burned like twin stars.
And the battlefield erupted.
---
The Hounds Unleashed
Malagar stood on the balcony of his tower, watching as the Hounds of the Veil streaked across the landscape like black lightning.
They would find the boy.
They would bring an end to the last of the Forsaken Bloodline.
But Malagar was no fool.
The boy had awakened something—something old, something the world had tried to forget.
And if he did not act swiftly…
That power would consume everything.
He turned, his golden eyes narrowing.
"It is time," he murmured.
The Council had waited long enough.
And the war for the bloodline was only beginning.
---
The Awakening Blood
The Boy's Escape
The echoes of the vision still lingered in the boy's mind. His breath was ragged, his limbs shaking from the weight of the revelation.
The Forsaken Bloodline. The empire that once was. The power he was meant to wield.
He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the pulse of something new within him. It was faint but undeniable—like a fire waiting to be stoked into an inferno.
The Keeper watched him carefully.
"The Hounds are coming."
The boy's head snapped up.
"What?"
Before the Keeper could answer, the entire chamber trembled.
A sound—low, guttural, and filled with hunger—echoed through the corridors.
The boy's blood turned cold.
The Hounds were here.
The Keeper stepped forward, his expression grim.
"You must go. Now."
"But—"
The ground cracked.
Dark tendrils of mist slithered through the ancient stone, spreading like veins of shadow. A chill swept through the air.
Then, from the darkness, red eyes ignited.
The first Hound stepped forward.
It was massive, its form shifting between smoke and flesh, its maw lined with jagged, gleaming fangs. It sniffed the air—then locked onto the boy.
The Keeper acted first.
With a flick of his hand, golden sigils flared to life, forming a barrier between them and the creature.
"Run!" the Keeper commanded.
The boy hesitated for only a second.
Then, he turned and sprinted.
The corridors twisted and blurred around him. The ancient structure groaned as though the very walls were warning him to hurry.
Behind him, he heard the first shatter.
The Hound had broken through.
And it was coming for him.
---
Seraphina's True Strength
The battlefield was aflame.
Seraphina's golden eyes burned as she moved with unmatched precision. Her blade, now glowing with the same ancient energy that ran through her blood, struck down the shadowy warriors with finality.
They did not reform this time.
They vanished.
Her older self nodded in approval.
"Good. You are beginning to understand."
Seraphina wiped the sweat from her brow.
"This power—it's not just strength, is it?"
The older version of her smiled slightly.
"No. It is the will of our ancestors. The weight of their ambition, their vengeance, their sacrifice."
Seraphina's fingers tightened around her sword's hilt.
"And if I refuse it?"
The older Seraphina's smile faded.
"Then it will devour you instead."
Seraphina inhaled sharply.
She had already felt it creeping through her veins.
The power was hungry.
And it would not be denied.
---
Malagar's Decree
The Council's chambers were silent.
Malagar stood before them, his golden eyes gleaming with cold determination.
"The boy is no longer dormant. His power is awakening."
One of the shadowed figures leaned forward. "Then the cycle is repeating."
Malagar did not blink.
"Not if we end it first."
He turned to face the gathered entities—ancient beings who had long conspired to erase the Forsaken Bloodline.
"We cannot allow him to reach maturity. If we do, the consequences will be irreversible."
The eldest of the Council—the one wreathed in silver mist—spoke.
"Then what do you propose?"
Malagar's lips curled into a smile.
"If the Hounds fail, we will erase him ourselves."
The Council murmured in agreement.
The war for the last heir had begun.
---
The Chase Begins
The boy's lungs burned as he sprinted through the crumbling corridors. Behind him, the Hound's snarls grew closer.
He could feel its breath on his neck.
Just as he neared the final gate, the Hound pounced.
Time seemed to slow.
The boy twisted, raising his arms instinctively—
And golden fire erupted.
The Hound screeched as the flames tore into its form. Shadows curled and hissed, the creature's body writhing in agony.
The boy stared at his hands, wide-eyed.
"I… did that?"
The Keeper's voice echoed from behind him.
"Yes. And if you do not keep running, it will not be enough."
The boy clenched his fists.
No more running.
If they wanted to hunt him—
He would fight back.
And he would show them what it meant to be Forsaken.