Blood of the first age Chapter 18

 

Chapter 18 — The Silent Fairy

The soldiers feared the storm. They feared the bats. They feared Mordecai most of all. But whispers spread through the camps of something stranger. Something beautiful. The eastern armies spoke quietly at night now.

Around weak campfires beneath endless thunder and black rain, soldiers exchanged stories about the pale figure who followed Dragun across battlefields without speaking. Some believed he was a spirit. Others claimed he was an angel cast down from heaven. A few swore he was not human at all. Because no human being moved the way Tenji moved.

Tenji did not resemble earthly nobility. Heavenly, angelic. His skin was pale as untouched snow beneath moonlight while his long black hair flowed endlessly around him like living silk moving against unseen winds.  His robes shimmered faintly beneath darkness like starlight caught within snowfall. And his eyes his eyes carried unbearable age. Jet black eyes that turned into cold silver irises that seemed to remember civilizations long turned to dust. Yet what frightened soldiers most was not his beauty. It was his indifference..

Tenji walked through massacres without expression. Through burning cities without fear. He observed suffering with the calm silence of someone who had already witnessed the world end before.

Perhaps many times.

He rarely fought openly. Until now. Three nights after the Black Rain, the eastern war camp settled beside the ruined canyon city of Vael Turog, where jagged obsidian cliffs surrounded ancient desert temples swallowed by ash and stormwater.

The soldiers were exhausted. The war had become endless. Even victories felt hollow now. Entire companies vanished daily beneath inferno raids and supernatural weather. No one slept peacefully anymore.

General Zerafin studied battlefield reports inside a rain-soaked command tent while thunder rolled continuously overhead.

“Three more supply columns destroyed.”

A wounded scout lowered his head.

“No survivors.”

Another officer spoke grimly.

“The Baalanians are sending infiltrators through the canyon ruins.”

Zerafin cursed softly.

“Assassins?”

The scout nodded.

“Elite ones.”

At the edge of the tent

Tenji sat silently beside a lantern flame.

Listening.

Watching.

Like always.

The soldiers avoided looking directly at him for too long.

Not because they hated him.

Because something about him felt wrong in ways difficult to explain.

Too graceful.

Too calm.

Too perfect.

Even sitting motionless, Tenji seemed detached from gravity itself, his long black hair moving slightly despite the absence of wind while silver eyes reflected lantern light strangely beneath pale skin untouched by exhaustion. His pale skin reflected stormlight almost luminescent beneath the darkness surrounding him.

He looked less like a warrior and more like a celestial being accidentally trapped among dying men. Like a dream.

Zerafin finally sighed.

“They’ll target the command camp tonight.”

No one answered immediately.

Then Tenji spoke softly.

“I know.”

The entire tent fell silent. Because the Fairy almost never spoke first.

Outside the storm worsened.

Black rain hammered the canyon walls while distant lightning illuminated the ruined temples surrounding the camp.

And hidden within those ruins the assassins waited.They belonged to the Order of the Ember Veil. Mehmeth’s personal executioners. Elite killers trained since childhood within the inferno temples of Baalania: they were silent and fanatical and utterly merciless. Each assassin wore black desert robes lined with sacred fire sigils while bronze masks concealed their faces beneath the rain. Their orders were simple. Kill Dragun. Kill Zerafin. Burn the eastern command structure before dawn.

The first guards died silently. Throats slit within shadows. Bodies dragged beneath floodwater without sound. Then the assassins entered the camp.

Chaos erupted moments later. Eastern soldiers screamed as black-cloaked figures emerged through rain and smoke cutting through tents with curved inferno blades glowing red-hot in the darkness. Fires spread immediately while wounded men stumbled through muddy camp paths searching desperately for weapons.

The Ember Veil moved like ghosts. Fast. Precise. Inhumanly disciplined. One assassin burst into Zerafin’s command tent through a wall of rain. Another followed immediately behind him. Then both froze. Because Tenji stood waiting. The Fairy rose slowly from beside the lantern. Barefoot. Silent. His flowing white robes moved gently despite the violent storm outside while shadow crows gathered across the tent ceiling above him.

The assassins hesitated instinctively. Something deep inside them recognized danger. One attacked anyway.

He died instantly. The assassin lunged forward with inferno steel aimed directly toward Tenji’s throat and suddenly struck empty air. The soldiers watching barely understood what happened. Tenji simply was no longer standing there. Then the assassin’s body collapsed behind them. His throat opened cleanly. No visible strike. No visible movement. Only black feathers drifting slowly through lanternlight. The second assassin panicked. Sacred inferno flame exploded across the entire tent but Tenji walked effortlessly across the burning ceiling upside down. Weightless.Graceful. As though gravity itself obeyed him willingly.

The assassin stared upward horrified.

“What are you”

Shadow crows descended instantly. Hundreds of black wings consumed the man beneath shrieking darkness. His screams lasted only seconds. Outside the massacre had already begun. The Ember Veil assassins tore through the flooded camp while inferno fires spread between siege wagons and command tents beneath roaring thunder.

Then Tenji stepped into the rain. And the battlefield changed completely. The Fairy never touched the ground. Not once. He descended gracefully into the battlefield like a fallen angel clothed in white moonlight.

His robes flowed behind him like celestial silk while silver jewelry shimmered beneath black lightning and endless rain. Black crows spiraled around him in enormous swarms.

And despite the slaughter surrounding him Tenji remained impossibly beautiful. Radiant among the damned. Assassins attacked from rooftops and canyon walls simultaneously. None reached him. One leapt downward with twin burning daggers. Tenji shifted sideways in midair itself. In midair.

Then drove the assassin violently into a stone pillar without ever landing. Another unleashed inferno bolts from atop ruined temple stairs. Shadow crows consumed him instantly.

Only ashes remained.

The soldiers watched in stunned silence.

Because Tenji did not fight like a warrior.

He fought like memory. Like ancient divinity remembering violence.  Like a beautiful dancer in white robes under water Beautiful. Cold. Perfect.

An entire squad of Ember Veil assassins surrounded him near the flooded center of the camp. Tenji finally stopped moving.

Rain poured around him while black feathers drifted slowly through thunderlight.

The assassins circled carefully.

One whispered:

“He isn’t human.”

Tenji looked at them sadly.

“No.”

Then the crows attacked. Swarm of crows made of living shadows.

The storm itself seemed to descend upon the battlefield.

Hundreds upon hundreds of shadow crows erupted outward from Tenji’s robes and hair like living darkness, tearing through assassins from every direction simultaneously. Men vanished beneath shrieking black wings while inferno fire disappeared inside endless shadows.

Some assassins tried fleeing.

Tenji moved among them silently through the air while bodies fell around him into crimson floodwaters below.

Not once did his bare feet touch the ground.

He descended gracefully into the battlefield like a fallen angel clothed in white moonlight.

His robes flowed behind him like celestial silk while silver jewelry shimmered beneath black lightning and endless rain.

Black crows spiraled around him in enormous swarms.

And despite the slaughter surrounding him Tenji remained impossibly beautiful. Radiant among the damned. Assassins attacked from rooftops and canyon walls simultaneously. None reached him. One leapt downward with twin burning daggers. Tenji shifted sideways in midair itself. In midair. Then drove the assassin violently into a stone pillar without ever landing. Another unleashed inferno bolts from atop ruined temple stairs. Shadow crows consumed him instantly. Only ashes remained.

General Zerafin eventually reached the center of the ruined camp alongside surviving soldiers.

The battle had already ended.

Bodies of Ember Veil assassins covered the flooded canyon paths while black feathers drifted endlessly through rain and smoke.

And standing atop a broken stone pillar above the battlefield—

was Tenji.

Untouched.

Perfectly calm.

His silver eyes reflected lightning softly as shadow crows perched silently around him like servants awaiting command.

The soldiers stared upward wordlessly.

Not with fear.

With awe.

One wounded soldier whispered quietly:

“…an angel.”

Tenji heard him.

And for the first time in many years

pain crossed the Fairy’s face.

Because he remembered what angels truly looked like.

And what they had done to the world.

Later that night, Dragun found Tenji standing alone upon the canyon cliffs overlooking the flooded battlefield below.

“You saved them.”

Tenji remained silent for a long moment.

Then softly answered:

“No.”

Thunder rolled across the heavens.

“I only killed faster.”

Dragun studied him carefully.

“You hate war.”

Tenji looked toward the distant storm horizon.

“I hate what war reveals.”

The Vampire King’s voice lowered.

“And what does it reveal?”

The Fairy finally turned toward him.

“That eventually…”

Lightning illuminated his silver eyes.

“…everyone begins enjoying it.”

Blood of the first age Chapter 19

 

Chapter 19 The Reaper of Vahsravia

The fortress of Kharos Keep was dying from beneath. Above ground, the war still raged across the dunes: thunderstorms tearing through the desert sky, inferno artillery shaking ancient walls, siege beasts screaming beneath black lightning.

But below the fortress something worse had begun. Kharos Keep stood upon the edge of a massive canyon carved into the desert centuries before the rise of Baalania. Its black stone walls overlooked endless red dunes while giant iron braziers burned day and night against the storm-dark horizon.

For three months the fortress resisted Dragun’s advance. Three months of bombardment. Three months of starvation. Three months of watching the skies blacken beneath unnatural storms.bThe defenders should have surrendered weeks ago. Instead they vanished.

Entire patrols disappeared inside the lower tunnels beneath the fortress.Supply routes stopped responding. Soldiers sent underground never returned. At first the Baalanians blamed eastern infiltrators. Then survivors began crawling back out of the darkness. Mutilated. Mad.Terrified beyond reason.

One burned soldier staggered into the command halls trembling violently while inferno priests attempted to restrain him.

“There’s something down there…”

Blood poured from the man’s mouth.

“It isn’t human…”

The commander grabbed him roughly.

“How many eastern soldiers breached the tunnels?”

The man stared upward with shattered eyes.

“Just one.”

Far beneath Kharos Keep the Reaper walked. The underground fortress tunnels stretched endlessly beneath the canyon like a buried labyrinth an ancient prison chambers of forgotten crypts, collapsed mining routes and catacombs older than the fortress itself. Most were flooded partially from the Black Rain. The rest drowned in darkness.And within that darknesssomething breathed.

A squad of elite Baalanian soldiers moved carefully through the lower corridors carrying inferno lanterns and flame-spears glowing red within the black tunnels.

These were not ordinary troops.They belonged to the Sultan’s Iron Flame Guard. They were veterans of twenty campaigns,executioners of rebel kingdoms and killers trained since childhood. None of them frightened easily. Yet even they whispered nervously underground.

“It’s slaughtering entire squads.”

“Quiet.”

“We should collapse the tunnels.”

“The prince ordered us to find it.”

Another soldier tightened his grip on his weapon.

“What if it finds us first?”

Nobody answered.

Because somewhere ahead

something heavy moved.

The sound echoed slowly through the flooded corridor.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

Like enormous footsteps dragging through water. Then silence. The soldiers raised weapons immediately. Inferno flames illuminated ancient stone walls covered in old blood and claw marks gouged deep into black rock.

One guard swallowed hard.

“That’s not possible…”

The claw marks were too large.

Far too large.

Then the lights went out.

Every inferno lantern extinguished simultaneously.

Darkness consumed the tunnel instantly.

And from within the blackness

came breathing.

Deep. Animalistic. Wrong.

One soldier panicked and reignited his flame spear. The corridor illuminated again. Bodies hung from the ceiling. Their missing patrol. Or what remained of them. Torn apart. Drained. Twisted unnaturally into the stone above like broken dolls. Several soldiers vomited instantly. Another whispered a prayer. Then the Reaper descended.

Mordecai fell upon them like collapsing death itself. A gigantic black mass of muscle, claws, and living shadow smashed through the ceiling in an explosion of stone and blood. Crimson eyes burned within darkness while black smoke poured endlessly from his monstrous body like a living funeral shroud.

The first soldier died instantly. Mordecai’s claw removed half his torso in one strike. The second vanished into the flooded darkness screaming.The scream ended abruptly.The tunnel erupted into chaos. Inferno weapons fired wildly through darkness while elite guards attempted desperately to surround the monster.

It didn’t matter. Mordecai was too fast. The Reaper slammed one man into a wall hard enough to crack stone before tearing another apart with his bare hands. Inferno spears shattered uselessly against living shadow armor while blood flooded through the underground corridors around their feet. The soldiers realized quickly: This was not battle. This was slaughter.

One captain managed to wound Mordecai across the shoulder with sacred fire steel.

For a brief moment the monster stopped moving.The captain smiled nervously. Then watched in horror as black shadows stitched the wound closed instantly. 

Mordecai slowly turned toward him.

The captain’s courage broke immediately.

“Run!”

Too late.

Mordecai crossed the tunnel in a blur.

The captain never even screamed.

Only blood hit the walls.

Far above the tunnels, the fortress shook violently from ongoing siege bombardments while thunder rolled endlessly across the heavens.

But underground

another kind of war unfolded. Primitive. Personal. Monstrous.

The remaining Baalanian soldiers fled deeper into the catacombs desperately trying to regroup near the old prison chambers beneath Kharos Keep. Some were crying now. Others dropped weapons entirely.

One young guard whispered repeatedly:

“It’s a demon… it’s a demon…”

Then the shadows moved again.

Mordecai emerged from the darkness ahead of them.

Waiting. Silent. Towering so large his head nearly scraped the ancient tunnel ceiling. The inferno soldiers froze. Because they finally saw him clearly. Not merely a monster. Something worse.

Fragments of humanity still remained beneath the horror. A vaguely human face buried beneath scars and shadow. A black goatee barely visible beneath monstrous jaws. Eyes filled not with rage but emptiness. As though the creature standing before them had once been a man long ago.

And whatever remained inside him now suffered endlessly. One trembling soldier lowered his weapon slowly.

“Please…”

Mordecai stared silently.

Then the shadows behind him split apart.

Two more Reapers stepped from the darkness.

Lesser copies of Mordecai formed from living shadow and blood mist, they were thinner and faster but equally horrifying.

The soldiers broke completely. The tunnels became a nightmare. The Three Reapers moved through the catacombs like hunting beasts while screams echoed endlessly beneath Kharos Keep. Men vanished into darkness only for pieces of them to return moments later through floodwaters stained black and red.

No escape routes remained. No reinforcements came. Only darkness. Claws. And death.

Hours later  the lower fortress tunnels finally fell silent. Eastern soldiers cautiously entered the underground corridors after sunrise expecting resistance. Instead they found carnage. Bodies lined the walls. Armor ripped apart like paper. Ancient stone flooded entirely with blood.

And standing alone within the deepest chamber was Mordecai. Motionless beside piles of dead elite guards. General Zerafin descended slowly into the chamber with several knights behind him. Even hardened vampire soldiers looked disturbed by the scene.

One knight whispered:

“…how many did he kill?”

No one could count them.

Mordecai slowly turned toward Zerafin.

Blood dripped from monstrous claws while shadows twisted endlessly around his gigantic frame.

Yet despite the horror he remained perfectly calm. Waiting. Obedient. Like a weapon awaiting its next command.

Zerafin stared at him silently.

Then finally spoke quietly:

“Sometimes…”

The general looked around the massacre beneath Kharos Keep.

“…I think even Dragun fears what you’re becoming.”

Mordecai said nothing.

Because the Reaper no longer possessed a voice.

Only hunger.

And war.

Blood of the first age Chapter 20

 

Chapter 20  The Buried Temples

The war between Vahsravia and Baalania changed the world. Storms swallowed oceans. Entire kingdoms burned into ash. The dead outnumbered the living across western Elyria. Yet beneath all the bloodshed something older watched patiently beneath the sands.Something ancient enough to remember the world before mankind. Before vampires. Before kingdoms.Before the moon itself turned pale.And Sultan Baalaniah Mehmeth intended to find it.

The desert began opening on its own.

Weeks after the massacre beneath Kharos Keep, violent earthquakes spread across the western dunes of Baalania. Entire villages vanished overnight as massive sinkholes swallowed caravans, temples, and military outposts into the earth below.At first the priests declared it divine punishment.

Then the bodies emerged. Not fresh corpses. Ancient ones.Thousands of them. Perfectly preserved beneath black sand despite being older than recorded history. Some were human.

Others were not. One ruined excavation site near the Valley of Qarith uncovered gigantic skeletons fused directly into black stone walls: creatures with elongated limbs,horned skulls, ribcages large enough to house entire men inside them.

Their bones were carved with symbols no scholar could understand. The workers who discovered them went mad within days. Most clawed out their own eyes. And deep within the Ember Palace

Mehmeth smiled.

The Sultan stood alone inside his private observatory while ash storms spiraled endlessly beyond massive bronze windows overlooking the burning capital of Baalania.

Ancient scrolls covered the chamber walls: forbidden histories, celestial maps. records erased from official scripture centuries ago. At the center of the room sat a black stone tablet recovered from beneath the Red Dunes. The symbols carved upon it shifted when unobserved.

Prince Azrakar entered quietly.

“You summoned me.”

Mehmeth remained facing the storm outside.

“Do you know why this war matters?”

Azrakar crossed the chamber slowly.

“To destroy our enemies.”

“No.”

The answer came softly.

“To prepare humanity.”

The prince frowned slightly.

“For what?”

Silence.

Then Mehmeth finally turned.

And for the first time in years

his son saw fear in the Sultan’s eyes.

“For what sleeps beneath us.”

Far beneath the deserts of Baalania

something ancient stirred. The excavation began three days later. Thousands of slaves, prisoners, and condemned soldiers were sent into the newly opened sinkholes beneath the western dunes under heavy guard by inferno priests and elite Baalanian warbands.

Most never returned. The tunnels themselves killed people. Workers disappeared around corners. Voices whispered from empty chambers. Entire groups wandered into darkness only to be found days later standing motionless against walls with dried blood pouring from their noses and mouths. 

One survivor repeated the same sentence endlessly until his throat collapsed:

“The gods underground are dreaming.”

Even the desert seemed wrong there.

No wind.

No insects.

No animal life.

Only silence.

Oppressive and endless.

At the deepest point beneath the dunes they found the temple. It was colossal.

Far larger than any city in Baalania.

Ancient black pyramids stretched endlessly beneath the earth connected by enormous bridges and spiral towers disappearing into darkness below. Strange silver fire burned within massive braziers despite having no fuel source while gigantic statues lined the buried streets depicting impossible beings with too many wings and eyeless faces.

None of the architecture resembled human civilization. The proportions felt unnatural. Doors stood too tall. Hallways too narrow. Staircases spiraled at impossible angles that made soldiers physically sick attempting to climb them. The deeper they traveled the more reality itself seemed incorrect.

High Priest Za’Rakh descended beside Mehmeth into the buried city while sacred fire lanterns illuminated endless black stone corridors around them.

Even the fanatical priest looked disturbed.

“This place predates Baalania.”

Mehmeth touched one ancient wall carefully.

“No.”

His voice echoed strangely.

“It predates history.”

Then they found the murals.

Entire walls beneath the buried temples depicted ancient wars beneath black stars: towering winged entities descending from the heavens, oceans boiling beneath crimson moons, giant skeletal machines marching across dead continents and humanity kneeling before enormous shadow gods.

And among the carvings appeared a familiar symbol. 

The moon sigil of ancient Vahsravia.

Za’Rakh stared in confusion.

“The vampires existed then?”

Mehmeth studied the murals silently.

“No.”

The Sultan’s voice lowered.

“Something became them.”

Further inside the buried temples the whispers began. At first they sounded distant. Almost comforting. Voices speaking softly beneath the stone.

But the deeper the expedition descended the louder the whispers became. And each man heard something different. Promises. Threats. Memories.

One soldier suddenly began sobbing uncontrollably after hearing his dead mother singing somewhere within the darkness. Another stabbed himself repeatedly because he claimed insects were crawling beneath his skin.

Inferno priests started forgetting prayers midway through chanting. Even sacred fire lanterns dimmed unnaturally. Then the first explorers vanished.

A squad guarding the eastern tunnel simply disappeared between one patrol rotation and the next. No blood. No signs of struggle. Only their armor remained stacked neatly beside the corridor entrance. As though something removed the men from inside their bodies.

Azrakar eventually spoke what everyone feared.

“We should destroy this place.”

Za’Rakh immediately objected.

“The gods led us here!”

But Mehmeth remained silent.

Watching the darkness ahead.

Listening. Because he could hear it too now. Something calling his name from far below the buried city. Not in words. In hunger.

The deeper chambers beneath the temples no longer resembled architecture at all.

The stone became organic.

Walls pulsed slowly like flesh beneath layers of black crystal while gigantic roots or veins stretched endlessly through caverns large enough to swallow entire fortresses.

Ancient bones covered the floors. Not human bones. Massive ones. Some still wore rusted armor larger than siege towers. Then they found the throne room. An enormous circular chamber opened beneath the buried city containing a black abyss descending endlessly into darkness below.

And surrounding the abyss sat gigantic stone thrones. Twelve of them. Each occupied by ancient corpses wearing crowns of obsidian and gold. Not skeletons. Preserved rulers.

Their skin remained stretched tightly across inhuman faces while empty eye sockets leaked thick black liquid down ancient robes untouched by time. The entire chamber smelled like old blood.

Even Mehmeth stopped walking. For the first time in decades the Sultan looked uncertain. Then all twelve corpses opened their eyes simultaneously. The torches extinguished instantly. Darkness swallowed the throne room whole. And from the abyss beneath the buried temples something enormous moved.

Blood of the first age Chapter 21

 

Chapter 21  The Hollow Gods

The buried city should not have existed. That truth haunted everyone who entered it. The architecture defied reason. The silence felt alive. Even time itself seemed unstable beneath the sands. And the deeper they descended the older the world became.

The throne room massacre spread terror throughout Baalania within days. Only a handful of Mehmeth’s expedition survived the awakening beneath the abyss: soldiers driven insane, priests clawing scripture into their own flesh and engineers unable to remember their own names.

Many returned blind. Others returned speaking languages no living civilization understood. None slept again.

Yet Mehmeth refused to abandon the buried temples.

Because something below was calling him.

The Sultan expanded the excavation despite mounting casualties. Entire military divisions sealed the surrounding deserts while inferno priests constructed massive obsidian camps above the sinkholes to hide the discovery from the outside world.

Officially, the western front had “paused due to storm conditions.”

In truth both armies feared the desert now. Even Dragun’s scouts stopped approaching the region after entire patrols vanished without traces beneath the dunes.

The war itself had begun avoiding the buried kingdom. Far beneath the earth, Azrakar walked silently through the ancient corridors beside High Priest Za’Rakh and dozens of heavily armed inferno guards.

The deeper chambers no longer resembled ruins. They resembled remains.

Massive walls curved inward unnaturally like gigantic ribcages while black crystal veins pulsed slowly beneath layers of stone. Strange silver liquid dripped endlessly from ceilings despite the total absence of water sources.

And everywhere there were carvings. Thousands upon thousands of them.

Ancient murals stretched across entire chambers depicting impossible scenes: oceans splitting beneath black stars, giant winged figures descending from the heavens, enormous skeletal war machines trampling cities and eyeless gods devouring armies beneath eclipsed moons.

Some carvings moved slightly when not directly observed. Others whispered.

One young soldier stopped before a massive stone mural and frowned.

“…What are those things?”

The carving depicted tall humanoid beings with enormous feathered wings and glowing halos descending from the sky while kneeling humans raised their hands in worship. But the winged figures had no faces. Only smooth empty skin.

Za’Rakh answered quietly:

“False gods.”

But Azrakar wasn’t listening anymore. Because another figure appeared within the mural. A pale man cloaked in shadows standing against the winged beings while bats spiraled above him beneath storm clouds.

The resemblance to Dragun felt impossible. Then they found the chamber of stars. The room was perfectly circular.

Its ceiling resembled a night sky carved entirely from black crystal, filled with constellations no living astronomer recognized. Silver fire burned around the edges of the chamber while enormous stone tablets stood upright across the floor like ancient graves.

Every tablet contained symbols impossible to read. Except for one.

Tenji froze the moment he saw it. The Fairy had accompanied Dragun’s smaller reconnaissance force into the buried city after eastern scouts confirmed Mehmeth’s discovery. Against Zerafin’s objections, Dragun insisted on seeing the ruins personally.

Now the Vampire King watched silently as Tenji approached the ancient tablet slowly. For the first time since anyone had known him the Fairy looked afraid.

His pale fingers touched the symbol carefully.

A circle surrounded by six broken wings. Ancient. Elegant. and Terrifyingly familiar.

Dragun stepped closer.

“You recognize it.”

Tenji said nothing at first.

The storm winds around the chamber weakened unnaturally.

Even the shadow crows perched silently above the ruins.

Finally the Fairy whispered:

“…this should not exist here.”

Father Lucian frowned.

“What is it?”

Tenji stared upward toward the false stars carved into the ceiling.

“A warning.”

The others exchanged uneasy looks.

Zerafin rested one hand on his sword.

“You’re hiding something.”

Tenji remained motionless.

Then slowly turned toward them. And for the first time his calm expression cracked.

“The Sky People were not gods.”

Silence filled the chamber.

Even Mordecai stood still behind Dragun like a statue wrapped in darkness.

Lucian spoke carefully.

“The Sky People… truly existed?”

Tenji nodded once.

“Yes.”

His silver eyes dimmed.

“And they destroyed the world.”

Thunder rumbled faintly far above the buried city.

Tenji walked among the ancient carvings slowly while the others followed in silence.

“These ruins are older than human kingdoms,” he explained softly.
“Older than vampires.”
“Older than Baalania.”

He stopped before another mural depicting enormous winged beings descending from the heavens surrounded by black suns and burning oceans.

“They came from beyond the sky.”

Father Lucian whispered a prayer.

“Angels…”

“No.”

The answer came sharply.

“Not angels.”

Tenji’s voice lowered.

“Wardens.”

The chamber suddenly felt colder.

“The Sky People believed existence itself had become corrupted,” Tenji continued.
“They saw mankind as dangerous.”
“Violent.”
“Unstable.”

His gaze drifted toward the murals showing cities consumed by celestial fire.

“So they decided to purify the world.”

Zerafin frowned.

“You’re saying heaven declared war on humanity?”

Tenji looked at him sadly.

“Humanity fought back.”

Another mural showed armies marching beneath storm clouds and black banners: vampires, humans, giant armored warriors and strange machines built from bone and silver.

And leading them stood a crowned king cloaked in darkness.

Dragun stared at the figure carefully.

The resemblance disturbed him.

Lucian stepped closer to another carving.

“These symbols…”

He touched ancient script surrounding the murals.

“They repeat the same phrase.”

“What phrase?” Zerafin asked.

The priest swallowed slowly.

“THE HOLLOW GODS.”

The silver fires around the chamber flickered violently. Then the whispers returned.

Voices echoed through the buried city from somewhere impossibly deep below: soft, ancient, hungry.

Several soldiers collapsed immediately clutching their heads while blood poured from their noses. One screamed:

“They’re awake!”

The walls began moving. Not metaphorically. The stone itself pulsed like breathing flesh beneath the carvings while black veins spread across the chamber floor. And then the stars above shifted. The constellations carved into the ceiling rearranged themselves slowly into a massive symbol. An eye. Watching them.

Mordecai immediately stepped in front of Dragun.

Shadow armor spread violently across his monstrous frame while crimson eyes glowed brighter within the darkness.

Tenji stared upward in horror.

“No…”

The Fairy’s voice trembled for the first time.

“They found us.”

The chamber shook violently. Far below the buried city something enormous moved beneath the abyss. Not walking. Turning. As though a sleeping god had begun rolling within its grave.

Azrakar’s distant voice echoed from another corridor:

“Father!”

The prince appeared moments later with surviving Baalanian soldiers behind him, weapons raised immediately at the sight of Dragun’s forces. But before either side could attack the buried city screamed. An inhuman sound erupted through every corridor simultaneously: part roar, part whisper, part dying universe.

The walls cracked open. Black liquid flooded across the floors. And from deep beneath the temple abyss gigantic glowing eyes slowly opened in the darkness below. Far too many eyes.

Tenji stepped backward.

Whispering ancient words none of them understood.

Dragun stared at him sharply.

“What is that thing?”

The Fairy looked toward the abyss.

Then answered quietly:

“One of the last Hollow Gods.”

Lightning exploded somewhere far above the desert.

And deep beneath Baalania

something ancient finally awakened completely.

Blood of the First Age Chapter 22

Chapter 22  The Night of Black Suns

The night the world changed the stars vanished. Not hidden. Not covered by storm clouds. Gone. One by one, every light in the heavens died above the deserts of Baalania until only darkness remained over the world.

Then the black suns appeared. Seven enormous circles formed silently across the sky above western Molochia. Dark eclipsed spheres hanging impossibly close above the desert like watching eyes. They gave no warmth. No light. Yet the entire world beneath them became darker. Even fire dimmed.

Across Baalania, people fell to their knees screaming. Animals tore themselves apart trying to flee invisible terror. Entire villages went silent as every dog, horse, and bird suddenly died at the exact same moment. And beneath the buried temples the cult began singing.

The abyssal throne chamber overflowed with thousands of black-robed followers gathered around rivers of burning blood flowing toward the endless pit below.

Inferno priests carved sacred symbols into their own flesh while chanting ancient scripture forbidden even within Baalania’s highest temples.

At the center stood High Priest Za’Rakh. His golden ceremonial mask had been removed. Underneath his face was changing. Black veins crawled beneath his skin while his eyes leaked thick dark fluid onto his crimson robes.

Still he smiled. Still he prayed.

“The Hollow Gods awaken!”

The cult answered in unison:

“LET THE FALSE WORLD BURN!”

Prince Azrakar stood near the chamber entrance with visible disgust.

“This is madness.”

Around him, even veteran Baalanian soldiers looked terrified now. The air itself felt wrong. Heavy. Breathing.

Mehmeth remained near the abyss watching silently.

The black suns reflected faintly in his eyes.

“You wished to understand true power,” the Sultan said calmly.
“Now witness its cost.”

Azrakar stepped closer.

“Father… we should destroy this place.”

Then the abyss moved. A gigantic sound echoed upward from beneath the darkness below. Not a roar. Not an animal. Something older. Like mountains grinding together beneath an ocean. The entire buried city trembled violently.Ancient stone cracked apart. And the cultists began laughing.

The first horror emerged slowly. Long pale fingers gripped the edge of the abyss before an enormous skeletal figure pulled itself upward from the darkness.

Its body resembled a starving giant wrapped in rotting ceremonial cloth. But its face had no eyes. Only a massive vertical mouth stretching from forehead to throat filled with moving black teeth. The creature smiled.And every torch in the chamber exploded simultaneously.

Darkness swallowed the temple. Then the screaming began. The eldritch creature moved impossibly fast. One moment it stood beside the abyss. The next entire rows of cultists vanished into sprays of blood and shattered bone.

The thing tore bodies apart with elongated claws while its mouth opened impossibly wide releasing a sound that made soldiers claw at their own ears. Several priests collapsed instantly, their faces melting beneath black blood.

Za’Rakh raised both arms ecstatically.

“They have returned!”

Then six more creatures climbed from the abyss behind the first.

The buried city erupted into chaos. Far above the desert, both armies watched the sands begin collapsing inward across the western dunes.

Massive sinkholes swallowed entire war camps while ancient black towers burst upward from beneath the earth like the bones of dead gods clawing through the surface.

Then the creatures came. Thousands of them. Some resembled twisted humans stretched unnaturally tall with limbs bending backward.

Others crawled across the sands on dozens of clawed arms while eyeless heads whispered in broken languages. Gigantic skeletal beasts emerged from beneath the dunes dragging chains the size of fortress walls behind them. And all of them moved toward the living. Eastern and Baalanian armies immediately opened fire.

Silver artillery thundered across the desert. Inferno cannons unleashed rivers of sacred flame. Explosions illuminated the black night beneath the seven suns. But the horrors kept coming.

One gigantic creature shaped like a skinless serpent burst beneath a Baalanian formation and swallowed dozens of soldiers whole into a mouth filled with human hands grasping from inside its throat. Another eldritch beast walked directly through inferno fire while hundreds of glowing eyes opened across its body one by one. Men went insane simply looking at it.

General Zerafin shouted desperately above the chaos.

“HOLD THE LINES!”

But there were no lines anymore.

Only survival. The battlefield became hell. Baalanian holy warriors fought beside vampire knights against waves of creatures neither side understood.

Inferno priests and storm mages unleashed magic together merely to slow the advancing horrors. Men who spent years slaughtering one another now died shoulder to shoulder beneath the black suns. Still the eldritch army kept growing.

Then the demons arrived. Massive cracks spread across the dunes as black fire erupted from beneath the earth itself. Ancient infernal gates opened throughout the battlefield. And from within them stepped creatures from the old abyssal wars: horned giants wrapped in burning chains, armored beasts with molten blood and winged predators formed entirely from shadow and teeth.

Even the eldritch horrors turned toward them. The ancient enemies recognized one another. The desert became a war between nightmares.

Mordecai crashed directly into a horned demon large enough to crush siege towers, tearing through molten flesh with monstrous claws while shadow armor spread violently across his gigantic frame.

The demon bit through half his shoulder.

Mordecai ripped its jaw off.

Tenji moved through the battlefield like living moonlight.

The Fairy glided above collapsing dunes while massive swarms of shadow crows descended upon eldritch creatures from every direction.

Wherever Tenji passed silver symbols burned through the air behind him. Ancient. Celestial. Forbidden.

The creatures feared him. One towering horror covered in black eyes stopped moving entirely upon seeing Tenji descend from the sky.

Its countless mouths whispered simultaneously:

“SKYBORN…”

Tenji’s expression darkened.

“You should have remained buried.”

Then the Fairy raised one hand.

The shadow crows exploded forward like a living storm.

The creature vanished beneath black wings.

Meanwhile Dragun unleashed catastrophe itself.

The Vampire King stood atop a shattered obsidian ridge while crimson storm clouds spiraled violently above the battlefield.

His silver-black armor dripped with rain and blood as thousands of shadow bats filled the heavens around him.

Then he lifted his hand toward the black suns.

And the storm answered.

Gigantic crimson lightning crashed across the desert continuously, vaporizing entire hordes of eldritch creatures beneath exploding thunder while hurricane winds swallowed dunes whole.

Rain began falling again. But this time it was black.

The floodwaters carried corpses across the battlefield while demons and horrors tore each other apart beneath endless lightning.

The world no longer resembled war. It resembled the end of creation itself. Then something enormous awakened beneath the buried city. The desert stopped moving.

Every creature froze. Even the demons turned toward the western abyss.

And slowly one gigantic eye opened beneath the sands.

Far larger than cities. Ancient beyond imagination. Watching. Hungry.

Tenji stared toward the distant desert in horror.

“No…”

Dragun stepped beside him.

“What is that?”

The Fairy’s voice trembled for the first time.

“One of the Hollow Gods.”

Then the eye blinked.

And the heavens cracked open above Baalania.