Smoke still clung to the hills of Blackridge Pass, the battlefield where human steel had met demonic flame. Prince Leonhart stood among the ruins, the air thick with the stench of charred earth and blood. Though victory was theirs, it tasted bitter. Too many of his men now rested beneath crude wooden markers, their sacrifice a reminder that peace was slipping further away with each passing dawn.
Returning to Solhaven, Leonhart found the court restless. Nobles debated war strategies while merchants fretted over disrupted trade. Queen Seraphine, though weary from illness, advised her son wisely.
"War is not won on the battlefield alone, Leonhart. Win their hearts and minds first, or the throne you inherit will be but a crown of thorns."
But while Solandria licked its wounds, the true storm gathered in the cursed lands of Netherhollow.
Deep within the obsidian halls of Mal'Karash, King Zevrak the Infernal stood before the Abyssal Crucible, a forgotten relic of dark power. Whispers of ancient demons called to him, promising unmatched strength. Driven by his lust for conquest, Zevrak made the pact.
Flames erupted from the crucible, engulfing his form, but instead of consuming him, they transformed him. His body swelled with unholy might, his crimson armor radiating infernal energy. The demons of Netherhollow knelt before him in fear and awe.
Beside him, Queen Lilithra smiled coldly. "You have become more than king... you are the Infernal Lord."
Prince Vaerok, witnessing his father's transformation, felt the sting of envy. Nyxara, however, recoiled from the darkness swelling within her family. Something in her heart whispered that their path led only to ruin.
Solandria, recognizing the threat of Zevrak's newfound power, sought allies. Prince Leonhart journeyed once again into Sylvaran's hidden groves, where the moonlight barely touched the forest floor.
King Thalorien remained unmoved. "You wage war against demons, yet do not see the rot within your own lands. Sylvaran shall not bleed for human pride."
But Princess Selene, curious and bold, met Leonhart beneath the stars. She spoke of ancient texts hidden in Sylvaran's archives, texts that foretold the rise of an Infernal King and the need for unity.
"If my father will not help, then I shall. Eldaris must not fall to flame and shadow."
Meanwhile, Queen Helga of Ironspine convinced King Balrik that ignoring the war would eventually bring it to their gates. Against his stubborn instincts, Balrik agreed to forge weapons for Solandria's armies, but demanded a share of conquered demon lands in return.
Before alliances could take root, Netherhollow struck. Under blood-red skies, demon warbands poured into Solandria, led by Zevrak himself. Malformed beasts and infernal machines razed villages, leaving only ash in their wake.
The Siege of Solhaven began on the Festival of Light, a cruel irony as fire devoured the outer walls. Prince Leonhart led the defense alongside Evelyne, whose sharp wit and fiery speeches rallied the people.
Even as the city burned, a message arrived from the north, Dwarven reinforcements marched through the mountain passes, armed with weapons newly forged by Balrik's hands.
At dawn's first light, the Dwarves charged the demon flanks, their battle cries shaking the earth. Together, humans and dwarves drove back the invaders, though the victory left Solhaven scarred.
Zevrak, retreating to the shadows, smiled wickedly. He had merely tested their strength.
While the armies clashed, Princess Selene and Prince Kaelen explored the forbidden depths of Elarion's sacred groves. There, beneath roots untouched for centuries, they unearthed the Heart of Eldaris, a crystalline relic pulsating with raw magical energy.
The Heart revealed a terrifying vision, an ancient evil far greater than Zevrak, long sealed beneath the world's surface. Zevrak's rise was but the first act in a prophecy that foretold the world's end.
Returning to their father, Thalorien, Selene pleaded for action. Reluctantly, the Elven King agreed. He dispatched his finest mages to join the human alliance, breaking Sylvaran's long-held isolation.
The allied forces gathered at Crimson Vale, a narrow canyon leading to Netherhollow. There, humans, dwarves, and elves made their stand against Zevrak's legions.
Magic clashed with infernal fire. Steel rang against claw and fang. The sky burned as the Vale became a crucible of war.
In the heart of battle, Leonhart faced Zevrak in single combat. Their blades met, sparks flying as their wills collided. Though wounded, Leonhart stood firm. But before the final blow could be struck, Zevrak unleashed a forbidden spell, shattering the canyon walls and burying the battlefield in rubble.
The demons retreated into the dark, leaving the Vale a graveyard of heroes.
In the wake of Crimson Vale, the realms mourned their losses. Thousands had perished, and though Zevrak's army was broken, the Infernal King remained at large.
Solandria rebuilt its defenses, Solhaven rising anew from the ashes. Ironspine returned to its forges, preparing for the wars yet to come. In Sylvaran, King Thalorien lifted the ancient ban on foreign alliances, acknowledging that unity was no longer a choice but a necessity.
But beneath Netherhollow, in the endless caverns where light never reached, Zevrak prepared for his next move. He had tasted their strength and now sought the Abyssal Titan, a beast of legend whose awakening could end Eldaris itself.