Chapter One
The Beginning of the End
The woman was already dying. She could feel it in the way her legs shook when she tried to stand. Her breathing was uneven, and every inhale felt sharp in her chest. She tried to remember her name, but it felt far away, like something from another life. Once, people had spoken it with pride. Now it didn't matter.
The city around her was destroyed. Buildings were cracked open, their walls broken apart like they had been crushed from the inside. Glass covered the streets. Smoke drifted slowly through the air, mixing with falling ash. The sky above didn't look normal. It wasn't dark or stormy. It just looked stretched thin, like something heavy was pressing against it.
Blood ran from beneath her armor and dripped onto the stone below. The blue symbols carved into her gauntlet were glowing faintly. They had once burned bright with power. Now they flickered weakly, like a light about to go out.
It stood in front of her.
She didn't know what it was. It had height, but no clear shape. It looked like darkness gathered together into something almost solid. The air around it felt wrong, slightly bent. There was no sound. No wind. No movement.
She lifted her sword with shaking hands. "For the Seven," she tried to say, but her voice broke.
The shadow moved.
It didn't attack. It didn't roar. It simply passed through her.
For a second, nothing happened. She thought she was still standing. Then her body split apart cleanly, as if something invisible had cut straight through her. Her sword fell to the ground with a dull sound. The blue symbols flashed once, then faded completely.
The shadow stayed for a moment. Then it disappeared.
Far away from that broken place, something else began to wake.
Morning sunlight filled the halls of a local high school. The floors were polished but marked with years of use. Lockers lined the walls, some dented, some covered in old stickers. Students crowded the hallways, laughing, arguing, talking about homework and weekend plans. Everything felt normal.
At the end of the lunch hall, Alex Carter sat alone near the windows. Sunlight touched his face, but he didn't seem to notice. His earbuds were in, but nothing was playing. A movie ran on his phone screen, bright colors flashing silently. He wasn't really watching it.
Alex was sixteen. Taller than most of his classmates. Broad shoulders, steady posture. He didn't talk much anymore. Some teachers thought he was focused. Other students thought he was just quiet. The truth was, it was easier not to feel anything.
Across the room, four boys stood around a smaller one near the lockers. One of them shoved him. His backpack fell, and books spilled across the floor. A few students looked over, then quickly looked away.
The smaller boy knelt to pick up his things. His hands shook slightly. He glanced up, and his eyes met Alex's. There was something in that look. Not fear exactly. Just hope. Like maybe Alex would help.
Alex held his gaze for a moment. His chest felt tight. He could stand up. He could say something.
Instead, he looked back at his phone.
The bell rang. The hallway filled with noise again. The boys walked away laughing. The smaller kid disappeared into the crowd.
Alex went to class.
In the afternoon, sunlight stretched across his desk. The teacher talked about old wars and fallen empires. "Every empire thinks it will last forever," she said. "History says otherwise."
Alex stared out the window. But he wasn't seeing the parking lot or the trees outside.
He was remembering a hospital room.
The smell of disinfectant. The quiet beeping of machines. His mother lying in bed, her face pale and tired. Her hand had felt smaller when he held it.
"It's okay, Alex," she had whispered. "You'll be okay."
He had believed her.
After she was gone, nothing felt okay.
After school, Alex waited near the parking lot railing. A faded blue car pulled up beside him. Grace leaned across the seat and pushed the door open.
"Get in," she said.
He got in without speaking. The inside of the car smelled faintly like mint gum and old fabric.
They drove in silence for a while.
"You remember when Mom tried teaching you to cook?" Grace asked.
He didn't answer.
"She said you stirred soup like you were fighting it."
For a second, he almost smiled.
"There," Grace said softly. "You're still here."
The smile faded.
"Why are you pulling away from everything?" she asked. "It's been a year."
"She was everything," he said quietly. "After Dad disappeared, she was all we had."
Grace tightened her hands on the steering wheel. "You're my twin. I can't lose you too."
He looked out the window and said nothing.
Their aunt's house never really felt like home. Bills sat on the kitchen counter. The living room felt too quiet at night. It felt like they were staying in someone else's life.
That weekend, their aunt suggested a short trip. "Just a couple of days," she said. "We all need something different."
Grace agreed quickly.
Alex didn't.
"I'm not going," he said.
"You can't stay stuck forever," Grace replied.
"I'm not going."
They left Saturday morning.
They left Saturday morning.
The house felt empty after that. Not just quiet, but hollow. Every small sound seemed louder than usual—the ticking clock in the hallway, the hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of the floor when he walked across it. Alex stood in the living room for a while after the door closed, staring at nothing in particular. The silence pressed against him.
Saturday moved slowly. He turned on the TV and flipped through channels without really watching anything. Shows played, people laughed, news anchors talked, but none of it stayed in his head. It was just background noise. After a while, he grabbed his controller and turned on his console. He played for hours. Match after match. Restarting when he lost. Winning without caring. It wasn't fun. It just filled time. When he stopped playing, he scrolled through his phone, watching random videos until his eyes felt tired. That night he fell asleep on the couch with the TV still glowing in the dark.
Sunday felt even longer. He woke up late and walked through the house without purpose. By the afternoon he found himself in the basement, mostly because there was nothing else to do. The air smelled dusty. Old boxes were stacked along the walls. In the corner, he found a plastic storage bin filled with family photos and old video discs.
He sat on the floor and opened it. There were pictures of birthdays, beach trips, school events. His mom smiling at the camera. Grace standing beside him with frosting on her cheek. Their dad with his arm around their mother, looking relaxed in a way Alex barely remembered anymore. He stared at that photo longer than the others.
After some effort, he managed to play one of the old videos upstairs. The screen showed a younger version of them running through the backyard. Grace was laughing, chasing him with a garden hose. Their mom's voice could be heard behind the camera, warm and clear. "Alex! Stop running!" she laughed.
He paused the video.
The house felt too quiet again.
He watched a few more clips anyway—holiday mornings, school performances, small ordinary moments that didn't feel small anymore. He didn't cry. He just sat there, staring at the screen long after it went dark.
By the time Sunday night came, he felt drained but restless. Sleep didn't come easily.
On Monday morning, Alex sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. The TV was on in the background. He wasn't really listening.
Then the tone changed.
A red banner appeared across the screen.
Breaking News.
The anchor spoke carefully. Authorities were investigating reports of a strange dark figure that had appeared late Saturday night. Witnesses described the air bending around it. Several people were missing.
Blurry footage showed flashing lights and police cars.
Then the names started scrolling.
Alex leaned forward.
Grace Carter. Sixteen.
Below it was his aunt's name.
The spoon slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
His chest tightened painfully. "No," he whispered.
He tried to stand, but his legs felt weak. The room seemed to spin. He collapsed onto the floor while the news kept playing calmly in the background.
Grace was gone.
The house felt silent. Too silent.
Far beyond the sky, something shifted its attention.
And this time, it was focused on him.
The beginning of the end had already begun.