Smoke twisted through the night sky like serpents in mourning.
In a crumbling forest at the edge of what used to be the Alps, two men stood at the center of a crater still smoldering from their last clash. The ruins around them—fallen trees, broken shrines, and flickering fragments of holy wards—testified to a battle that had stretched across planes.
Ares Kaelion, known once as the Gatekeeper of Heaven, held his sword low. Not out of weakness, but regret.
Across from him, his younger brother Lucian Kaelion stood with crimson energy pouring from his fingertips, coiling like black fire around his arms. A twisted crown of bone floated just above his head—a symbol of infernal pacts made in silence.
Ares' voice, when it came, was calm.
Ares: "We were born to protect the gate. Together. Not tear it apart."
Lucian laughed, bitter and sharp.
Lucian: "You stood at that gate for centuries and never questioned why you were chosen. Why you were made immortal. I was your shadow. Now, I'm your reckoning."
A surge of infernal power rushed forth. Ares met it with a sweep of his golden blade. Light met shadow—Heaven clashing with Hell.
Thunder cracked. The forest lit up with celestial fire. But this battle wasn't just about strength—it was about legacy.
And watching from the trees, hidden under the cloak Ares himself had gifted her, was Syra Kaelion—his fourteen-year-old daughter.
She clutched the hilt of a dagger engraved with the Kaelion family sigil. Her breathing was shallow. Her mind screamed in confusion.
Moments ago, she had followed a tip from Lucian.
Moments ago, she believed her father was the traitor.
Now she didn't know what to believe.
From behind her, a faint whisper echoed—inaudible to all but her:
???:"Choose carefully, daughter of fire. Fate is watching."
She turned, startled—but saw nothing. Only shadows and the cold.
As the battle escalated, Ares felt the wound in his soul—a prophecy, carved into time itself. He had always known how this would end.
He had seen it.
A child born of fire. A blade that bleeds time. A betrayal not from an enemy... but from blood.
Ares (whispering): "So it begins."
Lucian surged forward with a black blade wreathed in soulfire. Ares countered, the clash shaking the very bones of the earth. But for a moment—just one—the Immortal hesitated.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
He turned just enough to meet Syra's gaze as she stepped into the clearing.
Ares: "Syra…?"
She froze. The dagger trembled in her grip. Her eyes filled with pain. With doubt. With the echo of every lie Lucian had fed her.
Lucian's voice rang out from behind Ares.
Lucian: "He's not the father you think he is. He left us all to burn. End this. Prove you're more than a name."
The moment fractured.
Syra moved.
The blade struck flesh.
Ares didn't cry out. He only looked at her—eyes full of sorrow, and pride.
Ares (smiling faintly): "Good. You chose."
As his blood fell, golden and slow, he dropped to one knee.
But instead of anger, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
Ares: "Listen carefully. The Key… is broken. Seven parts. Scattered. You… are the cipher."
Syra: "What do you mean? I didn't—"
Ares: "Not all truths are given. Some are earned. Trust your fire."
With his final breath, he whispered a single word in a dead tongue.
And with that—his body vanished into light.
Lucian rushed forward, feigning concern.
Lucian: "You didn't mean to… It was his destiny. He was broken. Come. We'll finish what he started—together."
Syra, still in shock, let herself be guided.
She never saw the cruel glint in Lucian's eyes.
But far away, in a realm between moments, Author watched.
He closed his journal.
Author (quietly): "The fall has begun. But the rewrite... has only just started."