AETURNUS COR “Eternal Heart”

AETURNUS COR

“Eternal Heart”

CHAPTER 1: Part 1: ARISE

ACT 1: The Broken Cage

The weeping was a constant, hollow echo against the damp stone walls.

Inside the subterranean cell, a dozen women were huddled together in the dark, shivering in ruined evening dresses and torn coats. The air was thick with the suffocating stench of rotting vegetation and copper.

“I want to go home...” a young girl sobbed, clutching her knees to her chest. “Please, someone... my mother is waiting...”

THUD.

A heavy, clawed fist slammed against the iron bars of the cell door, sending a shower of rust and dust cascading over the prisoners. A towering, gray-skinned daemon with jagged bone protrusions along his jaw sneered through the grate, his yellow eyes burning with sick amusement.

“Shut your mouths, livestock!” the daemon bellowed, his voice sounding like grinding stones. “You should be honoured. You’re being kept for the feast of the new Daemon King. The pretty ones will become his concubines. The rest of you?” He licked his black lips. “We’ll eat you alive from the toes up. Keep crying—it tenderizes the meat!”

He let out a guttural, booming laugh and stalked back down the corridor.

In the far, shadowed corner of the cell, a woman in a velvet dress turned to the young woman slumped motionless beside her. She reached out and shook her shoulder urgently. “Hey... hey, wake up! Please, get up!”

Elora’s eyes snapped open.

A searing, blinding migraine throbbed behind her temples. She gasped, scrambling backward until her spine hit the cold stone wall. She looked at her hands, her clothes, the dark cell, and the sobbing women around her. Her mind was a terrifying, complete blank.

“Are you okay?” the woman in velvet asked softly, kneeling in front of her. “Can you hear me?”

“Where... where am I?” Elora whispered, her voice dry and raspy. She pressed her palms against her forehead, trying frantically to pull a single memory from the void inside her head. “Who... who am I?”

The woman’s face softened with pity. “You don’t remember?”

“I don’t know anything,” Elora breathed, panic rising like bile in her throat. “I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know my name.”

“It’s okay. Don’t panic,” the woman said soothingly, taking Elora’s cold hands. “My name is Myndy. All I remember is going out after work... a few friends and I went for happy hour at a lounge downtown. I went into the restroom, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in this pit.” She looked closely at Elora. “Do you remember going out? Do you remember a family? A home?”

Elora slowly shook her head, tears of frustration prickling the corners of her eyes. “Nothing. It’s just... dark.”

Myndy offered a small, gentle smile despite the horror of their surroundings. “Well, you need a name. You look like my younger sister... her name is Elora. Can I call you Elora until you remember your own?”

Elora looked down at their joined hands, the name echoing in her chest with a strange, faint resonance. “Elora...” she murmured. “Okay.”

ACT 2: The Underground Sweep

Three miles away, deep beneath the pavement of Greyhaven, tactical flashlight beams cut through the gloom of an abandoned subway turnstile.

“Stay sharp. Low noise, fast entry,” Commander Figor grunted, checking the holy-iron magazine on his carbine. His weathered, battle-scarred face was grim beneath the tactical helmet.

Behind him, five members of the Fiendbane Geld hunter squad checked their gear in silent coordination.

They reached a wide, vaulted intersection where two ancient brick subway tunnels split into the dark. Figor held up two fingers, halting the squad.

“James, Celene,” Figor ordered in a low whisper, motioning to the right tunnel. “Our intel says Izo’s vanguard secured a high-grade relic in the lower vault. Head right, secure the objective, and fall back to the rally point.”

“Understood, Commander,” James replied, racking the bolt of his heavy crossbow. His sharp, skeptical eyes scanned the gloom. “Celene, on me.”

“The rest of you, on my lead,” Figor said, turning to Austin and the remaining hunters as he drew a pair of combat knives dipped in consecrated oil. “We take the left tunnel. Intel says they’re holding civilian captives in the old maintenance block. Clear the corridor, kill anything with horns, and get those women out.”

The squad split with practiced efficiency. Figor led his assault team down the left tunnel, their boots stepping silently over shattered track ties.

Within fifty yards, two daemon sentries stepped out from the shadows, their jagged blades drawn. Before they could raise an alarm, Figor lunged forward, sinking both oil-dipped blades into their throats. The daemons dissolved into foul-smelling, black ash.

Figor kicked open the reinforced steel door at the end of the hall, revealing the makeshift prison cells. “Hunters! You’re safe—get moving!”

Screams of relief filled the room as Austin brought his tactical axe down on the heavy cell padlocks, swinging the iron doors wide open. Myndy grabbed Elora by the arm, dragging her out of the cell toward the fleeing crowd.

“Movement in the upper corridor!” Austin yelled, raising his sidearm.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. A hulking daemon commander clad in spiked obsidian armor stepped through the smoke, flanked by half a dozen lesser fiends.

“Hunter scum,” Izo hissed, his twin broadswords igniting with dark, necrotic flames. ”I am Izo, and you are in my domain.”

Figor raised his blade, his expression grim. “Austin, get the women out. Jessica, cover them.”

“Figor—” Austin started.

“Now!”

The chaos erupted.

ACT 3: Dead Ends and Broken Intel

In the right tunnel, James kicked open a heavy iron door, his crossbow raised and levelled at the centre of the room.

The chamber was tiny, filthy, and completely empty—save for a single, low-tier scrawny daemon sitting on a pile of rags, digging his nose.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” the daemon shrieked, dropping throwing its clawed hands in the air. “I was told to stand guard and watch this place, that’s all!”

James stepped into the room, his jaw set in a hard line as he grabbed the daemon by its ragged collar and slammed it viciously against the brick wall.

“Where is the relic?” James snarled, pressing his elbow across the daemon throat. “Where did they hide it?”

“What relic?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the imp squealed, its eyes darting in blind panic. “I just got this job yesterday! A guy in the alley offered me fifty bucks and a bucket of guts just to sit here and watch the door!”

James’s grip tightened. “You’re lying.”

“I swear it! I don’t know anything about relics or hunters! I’m just a... a low-level nobody!”

James raised touched his weapon, but Celene puts her hand on his arm & stopped him.

“James, wait,” she said softly. “Look at him. He’s telling the truth.”

The daemon nods his head

James stared at the daemon for a long moment, then released him with a snarl. “You’re useless.”

The daemon scrambled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Celene crouched in front of him, her voice gentle. “Tell me everything from the beginning. Who hired you…?”

James tapped his tactical comm-link. “Figor, this is James. The right tunnel is a bust. There’s no relic here—just a low-tier grunt on rag duty. Bad intel.”

“Forget the relic!” Figor’s voice crackled through the static, punctuated by the loud, echoing boom of gunfire and clashing steel. “Izo trapped us in the cell block! We’ve got heavy resistance and civilian evacs—get over here now!”

BOOM!

A massive explosion detonated in the main corridor, shaking the subway tunnel so violently that dust and bricks rained down from the ceiling.

James and Celene instinctively ducked, covering their heads. Taking advantage of the sudden distraction, the ragged daemon snapped a murky black portal open beneath its feet.

“I quit!” the scrawny daemon screeched as it plummeted backward into the shadow vortex, snapping the portal shut behind it.

“Dammit, he teleported!” Celene yelled, dusting off her armor.

“Forget him,” James barked, turning back toward the main junction. “Move!”

To be continued…