Kael's eyes snapped open to a nightmare.
A wasteland stretched endlessly before him—barren, lifeless, a graveyard of gray sand dunes that rose like the decaying ribs of some long-dead beast. The sky was a void, stripped of stars, of light, of color, save for a single silver moon that hung like a weeping wound, its pale glow bleeding onto the desolation below.
He was the only speck of color in this monochrome hell.
Then—he saw the figure.
A man sat in the distance, his back turned, his form as colorless as the wastes around him. Just the sight of him sent primal terror clawing up Kael's spine. His breath hitched. His muscles locked. Every instinct screamed—
Run.
The figure stood.
Kael stepped back—
And woke up.
A New Dawn – Or a New Nightmare?
Sunlight. Trees. The scent of earth.
Kael bolted upright, his body drenched in cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was on a hill, surrounded by a dense forest, the branches swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Where the hell am I?
He scrambled to his feet, scanning the tree line for threats. His memories were fragmented, blurred—flashes of chains, of pain, of a voice older than time itself whispering in the dark.
Then—
"Finally awake, I see."
Kael whirled, fists raised, his pulse spiking. No one was there.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
Silence.
Then—a shadow stirred.
A sphere of inky fog materialized before him, no larger than an apple. Its core was a void-black abyss, punctuated by a single white dot—like a pupil staring into his soul. A spectral flame, pale as a dying star, flickered around it, wisps breaking off and dissolving into nothingness.
Kael's lips curled. "The actual fuck are you?"
The orb pulsed, its voice smooth, ancient, echoing as if spoken from the depths of a forgotten tomb.
"You could say… I'm an instruction manual."
"Instruction for what?"
"Survival, Kael. Survival."
Kael's blood ran cold.
It knew his name.
His grip tightened. "Explain. Now. What are you? How do you know me? And what the hell do you mean by 'survival'?"
The orb flickered, its form wavering like a dying candle. When it spoke again, its tone was lighter, almost amused, yet carrying an undercurrent of something older, darker.
"I am a guide. A… helper, if you will. Chosen by the Shard of Oblivion to ensure its champion does not stumble blindly into his own demise."
Kael's mind reeled. "Shard of what?"
"Oblivion. One of seven relics of primordial power. And now, it is yours."
"Bullshit." Kael spat. "I didn't choose shit—"
"No," the orb interrupted, its voice dropping to a whisper like wind through a graveyard. "It chose you."
Before Kael could retort, a twig snapped.
The orb's flame flared. "Ah. Right. The wolves."
The Hunt Begins
A low growl rumbled through the trees.
Then another.
Then six silver-coated wolves slunk from the undergrowth, their muzzles dripping saliva, their eyes burning with predatory hunger. Each was twice the size of a normal wolf, muscles coiled beneath their shimmering pelts.
And at their head—the Alpha.
A monstrosity of fang and fur, standing taller than a man, its body rippling with unnatural power. A jade-green stripe ran from its skull to its tail, and from its forehead jutted a single, onyx-black horn, glinting like a dagger in the dawn light.
Kael's breath caught.
The orb floated closer, its voice now a murmur, almost playful.
"Ah. Right. You might want to run."
Kael bared his teeth. "Or I might want to kill them."
The orb's flame flickered.
And then—the wolves attacked.