Prologue- Before embarking on a journey of revenge, dig two graves
The drum has been beating for days. Its echo spreads through the roots of our refuge like an ancient pulse, heralding the inevitable. Tension creeps along the damp corridors, and calm—if it ever existed—has been swallowed by chaos. The curse stirs once more.
For centuries, we have remained hidden beneath these mountains, shaping an army in the shadows—one that is finally about to awaken. The surface, that world of noise and light, is nearing its end. Soon, when the new cycle begins, we will never hide again.
Two figures cloaked in red robes stand in silence, gazing out at the crystal sea from a tower of living stone. The sky, still serene, conceals an omen.
“But it’s still only a possibility,” the younger one murmurs.
“And since when has a possibility ever been enough?” the other replies “This time, we will not fail. What comes next is determined. It is our legacy.”
“Legacy? Or theft?” his companion snaps, eyes fixed on the horizon “What we took was never ours. They were the ones who awakened it… and they paid for it in fire.”
“And now you would offer them mercy? After everything?” His tone drips with irony “Would you rather grant them freedom, so that in their stupidity they reveal our location?”
Silence falls like a sentence. The younger man looks away at once, uncertain of his own thoughts.
“Someday… they will have to know. Someday, even we… will die.”
The other snorts with laughter.
“And for that you would send everyone to judgment? Just to ease your conscience?”
“Perhaps it is crueler to keep lying to them,” he answers firmly.
The other studies him closely, as if weighing whether trust is still possible. The air tightens. Something is about to be said.
“I know you’ve been hiding something for a while now,” the younger one whispers “I can hear it in your voice.”
“Very observant,” he replies with a smile that holds no warmth “But judging by your doubts, I’m not sure you deserve to know.”
“The Sphere has spoken,” he insists. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Silence. Then, a dry confession.
“Yes.”
“She’s gone, then? Are you keeping her safe?”
“That depends on whether you stand with me or not.”
Dark clouds begin to spread across the sky above the sea. A faint tremor shakes the tower. The younger man lifts his gaze upward, as if waiting for an answer from above.
“What did it tell you exactly?” His voice trembles with urgency.
“That a nameless young woman will unravel the fabric of the new cycle,” the other replies, almost with disdain.
The younger man pales.
“That’s why you’re holding her… bastard.”
“She will disappear soon. But first,” he adds with chilling calm, “the father must die.”
There is no time to respond. He understands too late.
The hooded figure approaches him. He kneels without haste, cradling his head for a moment—as if in a gesture of respect—but his eyes are empty. With one hand, he opens his chest. Bone gives way with a muted crack. He pulls out the still-warm heart, raises it, squeezes it between his fingers. He drinks what remains, then lets it fall.
Blood spills across the marble, staining the mural carved into the stone: an ancient scene, two figures facing one another, each standing atop a mountain that seems to split the world apart. The fine lines of the engraving blur beneath the hot flow, as if the past itself were trying to erase itself.
He looks down at the corpse, contempt weighing heavier than grief. Then he lifts his eyes to the mural, still visible at the edges.
“In the end… all paths lead to her,” he murmurs, as if mocking fate “And this time, she will be the one to decide whom to bury.”
A warm, searing glow begins to fill the sky—a great sphere of fire looming above them, casting distorted shadows. He watches it for a moment, as if he already knows it is only a prelude to what is yet to come.
With a sudden motion, he grabs the goblet in his hand, almost without thinking. His fingers stiffen, tightening around the glass as though his life depends on it. Then, with inexplicable strength, he raises the cup toward the horizon, defying the approaching fire.
“Let the cycle begin!” he roars, his voice like thunder, echoing with fury through the stones of the tower.
The sound of the drum cuts through the air—deep and heavy—vibrating in the very bowels of the earth. Far away, a girl not yet born kicks inside her mother’s womb. And without knowing it, the world begins to tremble.
