Year 1425 AD. For one thousand years, the Kingdom of Valemont had never fallen. Kings were born and kings died, yet the crown never left House Valemont. People believed there was only one reason: they were blessed by God. Some said divine blood flowed through their veins, some whispered the gods granted them the power to summon angels into the mortal realm, others laughed and called it myth. It did not matter. Truth or lie, House Valemont still ruled. They were the absolute monarchs of the realm.
But the crown did not stand alone. The kingdom rested upon four great Duke Houses known throughout the land as the Four Pillars of the Kingdom: House Blackthorne, House Ironvale, House Ravenfall, and House Goldreach. For centuries, these houses upheld the throne. Among them, House Blackthorne was different. There was an old saying whispered only in quiet halls: If three pillars fall, Blackthorne alone can carry the kingdom. But if Blackthorne falls, even the crown will shatter.
House Blackthorne was ancient, a thousand-year-old bloodline and the richest house in the empire. They commanded the strongest army, the finest spies, and the deadliest assassins. House Goldreach controlled forty percent of the empire's wealth; House Blackthorne controlled the remaining sixty. If they wished, they could seize the throne in a single night. They never did, because even power fears what the gods may protect.
The world remembers the Demon War. A thousand years ago, demons clashed with humanity, cities burned, and empires collapsed. History calls it the Divine War, and humanity believes it won. What history does not know is simple: the strongest demons never fought. Only lesser demons died, only Sires bled. Those who were truly ancient were never recorded, and so they were forgotten.
At the heart of House Blackthorne stood a man feared by kings—Magnus Blackthorne. He was the greatest swordsman the kingdom had ever known, a mage without equal, and a man whose name carried weight. Magnus had two sons: Maekel, his firstborn, and Kael, five years younger, born to another woman. They were half-brothers. Magnus loved them both.
House Blackthorne carried a curse older than memory, a divine punishment written into blood: The firstborn shall die. Not by sickness. Not by chance. By fate. Magnus had seen it claim heirs for centuries. When it reached Maekel, something inside him broke. He prayed, begged, and knelt before altars until his knees bled. The gods never answered.
And when the silence became unbearable, love turned into desperation.
Magnus no longer saw right or wrong. He saw only one truth.
My son must live.
Blinded by that love, he summoned a demon. Its name was Azrathael, the Oath-Binder. Magnus did not ask for power or dominion; he begged for his son's life. Azrathael listened and smiled. "I cannot break a curse placed by gods." Magnus offered everything—his power, his soul, his life. Azrathael's smile widened. "I cannot remove the curse," the demon said softly, "but I can divide it."
The price was blood. Young blood. Blackthorne blood. Without hesitation, Magnus brought Kael. The curse was split and its power halved. Maekel, meant to die at twelve, would now live until twenty-four. Kael, who was five, would die at ten.
Magnus realized the truth too late.
He had saved one son—
by killing the other.
Magnus Blackthorne was not a cruel man. He was a father who had already buried too many heirs and knew exactly how the curse ended because he had seen it claim firstborns for centuries. When Azrathael demanded blood—young blood, Blackthorne blood—Magnus hesitated, only for a moment. Kael stood there, five years old, looking up at him with trusting eyes.
Magnus told himself a lie he would repeat for the rest of his life:
I am not killing him. I am saving his brother.
He had been tricked.
The strongest man in the kingdom collapsed to his knees.
Azrathael offered one final solution. "Turn them into demons." Demons were not bound by human age or time. If they became demons, the curse would no longer kill them. Magnus had no choice. When Kael reached ten years old, Magnus turned both of his sons into demons.
The Rite of Severance and Binding was not possession and not corruption; it was rewriting their existence. Every human is born under divine law, and before demon law could replace it, Magnus had to cut the connection. Beneath Blackthorne Keep, he carved ancient sigils that repelled divine observation, muted heavenly influence, and temporarily erased fate's hold. For three nights, Maekel and Kael remained inside the circle. Magnus told them the truth. "This will hurt," he said. "But pain means you are still alive." Kael cried. Maekel stood still.
On the final night, Magnus performed the Severing. He cut his palm and pressed his blood to his sons' chests, then spoke words Azrathael had taught him—words no human should know. Their hearts stopped. They died. Their souls drifted free from the gods and free from fate. Magnus held their bodies as they grew cold and begged them to forgive him.
Azrathael did not fully enter the world. Instead, he released fragments of infernal essence bound by contract. The essence anchored their souls back into their bodies, replaced divine law with demonic law, and preserved their free will. They were not possessed.
They were rebuilt.
Children could not survive full demon awakening, so Magnus placed a blood seal upon their hearts. The seal delayed demon instincts, suppressed bloodlust, and allowed their minds to mature first. This is why Kael awakened later—and violently—while Maekel awakened slowly, with restraint. The seal protected them.
And it also trapped their emotions.
They would live.
But they would never feel the world the same way again.
Thus began the tragedy of House Blackthorne.
Not born from ambition.Not born from cruelty.But from a father who loved too deeply—and chose wrong.