The world ended on a Tuesday, though for ten-year-old Zoran Kai, it began with a toy soldier.
He sat in the corner of the Royal Nursery, clutching the small wooden figure. It was painted in the blue and gold of Solmir, the paint chipped on the helmet. Outside the high stone walls, the sky howled. It wasn't the wind; it was the sound of the sky tearing apart.
For ten years, the war against the Legions of Nirvalis had raged. Zoran had never known a world without the distant thrum of artillery or the hushed, fearful whispers of the servants and for this very reason, some called Zoran the child born of war. But today, the whispers had stopped. Today, there was only screaming.
BOOM.
The castle shook violently. Dust rained from the ceiling, coating Zoran's pale gold hair. The wooden soldier slipped from his sweating fingers, clattering to the floor.
The door burst open. It wasn't a servant. It was a mountain of dark, pitted steel.
"Prince Zoran!"
Commander Vorn didn't wait for an answer. He crossed the room in two strides, his massive gauntleted hand scooping Zoran up as if he weighed nothing.
"Vorn? My soldier—" Zoran reached back.
"Leave it," Vorn growled, his voice vibrating through his chest plate. "We move. Now."
They ran. The corridors of the palace, once filled with tapestries and light, were choking with smoke. Stone shattered around them as the castle defenses collapsed. through a blown-out window, Zoran saw them—the Legions. They were an endless tide of twisted forms, reshaping the horizon into a nightmare.
"Fear not, army of Solmir!" A voice boomed over the chaos, magically amplified, cutting through the screams. "For I will not allow the demise of my people!".
"Father?" Zoran whispered into Vorn's shoulder.
Vorn didn't stop. " The King fights," he said, kicking open the heavy oak doors to the Throne Room. "So we can survive."
The Throne Room was a ruin. The roof had partially collapsed, revealing a sky the color of bruised flesh. In the center stood Queen Eliana, clutching a dark, unadorned iron pendant as if it were a lifeline. Beside her was Lyra, the Prophet, her hands glowing with blinding white light as she chanted before a wall of ancient runes.
"Vorn!" Queen Eliana's voice was thin, but her eyes were sharp. She reached out, pulling Zoran from Vorn's arms and pressing him against her silk gown. "You have him."
"The door, Lyra!" Vorn roared over the deafening sound of the outer gates shattering. "They are here!"
Lyra screamed a final syllable. The runes on the wall didn't just glow; they tore open. A swirling vortex of gold and white light erupted, violent and unstable—the Divine Domain.
"It is open!" Lyra gasped, slumping against the stone. "Go! I must cut the tether from this side!".
Before they could move, the side chamber door burst inward. King Avelon Kai stumbled in.
Zoran gasped. His father, the strongest man in the world, was broken. His legendary armor was cracked, his god-forged sword, Aethel, chipped and dripping with black blood. But his eyes still blazed.
"Go!" Avelon commanded, his voice a raw rasp. "Vorn, protect him. Do not look back.".
The King stepped between his family and the main doors. He looked back at Zoran one last time. It was a look of infinite sorrow. He reached out, his bloody hand touching Zoran's forehead, leaving a warm smear of crimson.
"My blood must buy you time," he whispered.
A final piece of the King's armor detached—a glowing stone from his chest plate. Lyra caught it, muttered a spell that seared the air, and slammed the artifact into Vorn's gauntlet.
Vorn roared in pain as the knowledge of the Kings flooded his mind, but he didn't falter. He grabbed Eliana and Zoran, hoisting them onto his shoulders.
"No! Father!" Zoran screamed, reaching out.
The main doors disintegrated. A shadow stepped through—massive, terrifying, and forged of pure cruelty. Kareth, the God of Chaos.
The last thing Zoran saw was his father raising his broken sword against a god, screaming a challenge that was swallowed by golden light.
Then, the world turned silent.