"You don't understand what you're asking for, Aelion."
The voice of Zephrion, God of Creation, echoed through the grand throne room. Golden light poured through the crystalline windows, illuminating walls carved with the history of the world—a world he had built with his own hands.
Aelion stood before his father, fists clenched, jaw tight. At a hundred and twelve years old, he was still young by divine standards. His silver hair—inherited from his father—fell to his shoulders, and his eyes burned with youthful ambition.
"I understand perfectly, Father." His voice was steady, but frustration bled through every word. "The Catastrophe is sealed beneath the Sacred Mountains. It's been there for ten thousand years. You locked it away because you feared its power—but *I* can control it. I can use it to protect our world!"
Zephrion rose from his throne, his towering form radiating authority. His robes shimmered like starlight, and the crown upon his head—forged from the first light of creation—gleamed softly.
"You speak of control as if it were a simple thing." His tone was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "The Catastrophe is not a weapon, my son. It is not a tool. It is a force of pure annihilation. I sealed it because *nothing*—not even the gods—can truly control it."
"You've never even tried!" Aelion's voice rose, echoing off the marble pillars. "You sealed it away out of fear! But I'm not afraid. I'm strong enough—"
"Strength has nothing to do with it!" Zephrion's voice boomed, shaking the very foundations of the palace. For a moment, the world itself seemed to tremble.
Silence fell between them.
Aelion's hands shook—not with fear, but with anger. With frustration. With the desperate need to prove himself.
"You've always treated me like a child," he said quietly. "Like I'm too weak. Too reckless. But I'm a *god*, Father. Just like you. When will you see that?"
Zephrion's expression softened. He stepped down from the throne and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "You *are* a god, Aelion. And one day, you will surpass even me. But that day is not today. The Catastrophe is beyond you. Beyond *us*. Promise me—*promise me*—you will never go near that seal."
Aelion's jaw tightened. He looked into his father's eyes—those ancient, weary eyes that had seen the birth and death of stars.
And then he pulled away.
"I need air."
"Aelion—"
But he was already walking away, his footsteps echoing through the hall.
Zephrion watched him go, a deep sadness settling over his features.
"Forgive me, my son," he whispered to the empty throne room. "I fear I've failed you."
---
The wind howled through the mountains as Aelion stormed down the ancient path.
Above him, dragons soared through the sky, their roars harmonizing with the songs of phoenixes. Below, cities sprawled across the landscape—cities where humans walked alongside gods, where mages commanded the elements, and beast-tamers rode direwolves and griffins through enchanted forests.
It was a perfect world.
A world his father had created.
And Aelion wanted—*needed*—to prove he could protect it.
His feet carried him without thought, following a path he'd walked in secret dozens of times before. Through the Sacred Grove, where ancient trees whispered warnings he refused to hear. Across the Bridge of Echoes, where the voices of past gods urged him to turn back.
He ignored them all.
By the time he reached the base of the Sacred Mountains, the sun was beginning to set. The entrance to the seal was hidden behind a waterfall—a cascade of liquid silver that glowed with divine magic.
Aelion stepped through it without hesitation.
The tunnel beyond was dark, lit only by faint runes carved into the stone. They pulsed with a slow, rhythmic glow—like a heartbeat.
Or a warning.
He descended deeper and deeper, until the air itself felt heavy. Oppressive. Wrong.
And then he saw it.
The door.
It was massive—taller than any building, wider than any gate. Carved from a single piece of black stone, covered in chains forged from divine light. Seals glowed across its surface, written in a language older than the gods themselves.
Aelion stopped before it, his breath catching in his throat.
For the first time since leaving the palace, doubt crept into his mind.
*What if Father was right?*
He shook his head, banishing the thought. "No. I can do this. I *have* to do this."
He stepped forward and raised his hand. The seals recognized his divine blood and began to glow brighter.
"I am Aelion, son of Zephrion, heir to the throne of creation," he declared. "By my blood and my will, I command this seal to open!"
The chains rattled. The runes flared.
And then, with a sound like the world itself cracking open, the door began to move.
Aelion's heart pounded as the door swung inward, revealing a cavern so vast it seemed to have no end. And there, in the center, suspended in chains of light...
The Catastrophe.
It was enormous—a creature of nightmare and legend. Its body was serpentine, covered in black scales that shimmered like oil. Massive wings were folded against its sides, and its head—shaped like a dragon's but twisted, wrong—hung low, as if asleep.
But Aelion could feel it.
The raw, suffocating power that radiated from it.
He swallowed hard and stepped inside.
"I... I am your master," he said, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "I am the one who freed you. I am Aelion, and you will—"
The creature's eyes opened.
They glowed like molten fire, burning with an intelligence that was ancient and utterly inhuman.
And in that moment, Aelion understood.
His father had been right.
"Wait—" he started to say.
But the Catastrophe *moved*.
Faster than thought. Faster than light.
One moment it was chained. The next, it was *free*.
Aelion didn't even have time to scream before the creature's tail slammed into him, sending him flying across the cavern. He crashed into the wall with bone-shattering force, and the world exploded into pain.
The Catastrophe roared—a sound so loud, so terrible, that the entire mountain began to shake.
Rocks fell from the ceiling. The ground cracked and split.
Aelion tried to move, tried to stand, but his body wouldn't respond. Blood dripped from his forehead, warm and sticky.
The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the Catastrophe spreading its wings and shooting upward, bursting through the mountain itself in an explosion of stone and fire.
And then... nothing.
---
When Aelion opened his eyes again, the world was silent.
Too silent.
He groaned and pushed himself upright, his entire body screaming in protest. How long had he been unconscious? Minutes? Hours?
He staggered to his feet and looked around. The cavern was destroyed—collapsed in on itself. The exit was buried.
Panic surged through him. "No. No, no, no..."
He raised his hand, summoning divine power, and blasted a path through the rubble. It took everything he had, but finally—*finally*—he broke through.
Sunlight poured in.
Or... what should have been sunlight.
The sky was red.
Aelion stumbled out of the cave and froze.
The world was burning.
Everywhere he looked, there was fire. The forests were gone—reduced to ash. The cities were ruins. The sky itself seemed to be cracking, as if reality were splitting apart.
And in the distance, he could hear it.
The roar of the Catastrophe.
"No..." Aelion's voice was barely a whisper. "No, this can't... this isn't..."
He ran.
He ran faster than he ever had in his life, his divine speed carrying him across the devastated landscape in seconds. But everywhere he looked, it was the same.
Death. Destruction. Silence.
And then he saw the palace.
Or what was left of it.
The golden towers had fallen. The crystalline windows were shattered. The walls—carved with the history of the world—were crumbling.
"Father!" Aelion screamed, his voice raw. "FATHER!"
He sprinted through the ruins, leaping over broken columns and shattered statues, until he reached the throne room.
And there, sitting on a broken slab of stone, was Zephrion.
His armor was shattered. Blood dripped from dozens of wounds. His sword—the Blade of Eternity—lay across his lap, its light flickering weakly.
"Father..." Aelion ran toward him.
But before he could reach him, Zephrion moved.
With the last of his strength, he kicked Aelion away, sending him sprawling across the rubble.
"Stay back," Zephrion said, his voice hoarse and broken.
Aelion stared at him in shock. "Father, I—"
"Look around you, Aelion." Zephrion's voice was cold. Harder than Aelion had ever heard it. "Look at what your ambition has wrought."
Aelion's eyes burned. "I didn't mean—"
"Everyone is dead." Zephrion's words were like hammer blows. "The gods. The humans. The beasts. *Everyone*. You destroyed the world, my son. You destroyed *everything*."
"I didn't know!" Aelion's voice cracked. "I didn't know it would—"
"I *told* you!" Zephrion roared, and for the first time in his life, Aelion saw tears in his father's eyes. "I warned you! I begged you! But you didn't listen!"
A roar split the sky.
Both of them looked up.
The Catastrophe was there, circling above them like a vulture. Its eyes locked onto Zephrion, and it descended slowly, deliberately.
Zephrion rose to his feet, gripping his sword. "It's coming for me. The only one left who can challenge it."
"Father, please—"
"You must stop it, Aelion." Zephrion turned to face the Catastrophe, his back to his son. "You released it. You are responsible."
The Catastrophe landed with a crash that shook the earth. It towered over them, wings spread wide, mouth opening to reveal rows of teeth like obsidian blades.
Zephrion raised his sword. "Forgive me, my son. For what I must do."
And then he charged.
The battle that followed was beyond mortal comprehension. Sword clashed against claw. Divine light exploded against dark fire. The very fabric of reality bent and twisted under the force of their blows.
But Aelion could see it.
His father was losing.
Zephrion was already wounded. Already exhausted. And the Catastrophe... the Catastrophe was *endless*.
With a final, desperate strike, Zephrion drove his sword into the creature's chest.
It roared in pain—but it didn't fall.
Instead, it backhanded Zephrion, sending him crashing to the ground beside Aelion.
"Father!" Aelion crawled to him, tears streaming down his face.
Zephrion looked up at him, blood dripping from his mouth. "There's... only one way."
He raised both hands toward the Catastrophe.
Golden light erupted from his palms—brighter than the sun, more powerful than anything Aelion had ever seen.
The Catastrophe shrieked as the light enveloped it, compressing it, shrinking it down smaller and smaller and smaller—
Until it was nothing but a glowing orb of dark energy.
Zephrion turned to Aelion, the orb hovering between his hands.
"You released it," he said quietly. "So you must carry it."
"Father, no—"
But Zephrion pressed the orb into Aelion's chest.
The pain was instant. Unbearable. Aelion screamed as the Catastrophe's essence burned its way into his soul, merging with him, becoming a part of him.
"The Catastrophe is sealed within you now," Zephrion said, his body already beginning to fade. "You must never let it free again. You must *control* it. Or it will consume you."
"Father, please don't leave me—"
"I'm sorry, my son." Zephrion's form was dissolving, turning to light and ash. "I failed you. I should have been a better teacher. A better father."
"No! You were—"
"You may die," Zephrion continued, his voice growing fainter. "But you *must* stop it. The world... is gone. But perhaps... one day... there will be another chance."
His eyes met Aelion's one last time.
"This is a bad goodbye, Aelion. And for your wrongdoing... I place a curse upon you."
Aelion's breath caught.
"You will be reborn," Zephrion whispered. "Reborn to face the consequences of what you've done. Reborn to carry the weight of this destruction. And only when you have atoned... only then... will you be free."
And with that, Zephrion disappeared.
Aelion knelt there, alone in the ruins of the world, the Catastrophe burning inside him like a second heartbeat.
He looked down at his hands—trembling, covered in blood.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry..."
The world around him began to collapse. The ground cracked. The sky shattered.
And as darkness closed in, Aelion felt his own life slipping away.
*This is the end,* he thought.
But then—
*No.*
*This is the beginning.*
---
**Somewhere. Somewhen.**
A baby's cry echoed through a cold, sterile room.
A woman's exhausted voice: "It's a boy..."
And then, silence.
Except for the soft, rhythmic breathing of a newborn child.
A child with no name.
A child with no future.
A child who would one day be called Kaelen.
But deep inside his soul, buried beneath layers of new flesh and forgotten memories...
The Catastrophe stirred.
And a voice—ancient, cold, and patient—whispered into the darkness:
*"Welcome back, little god. Let us see what you become this time."*
---