Chapter 0:
End of Eternity
The rain never stopped.
Thin, cold rivulets streamed from the cracks high above, tracing crooked paths down the weathered stone walls. The rain pooled in the muddy streets, turning the ground into a slippery mess. The whole city of Arnem, built deep underground, seemed to drown in the rain indefinitely and the people drowned with it.
Outside the world was drowned in grey, the same dull hue that clung to the endless rows of cottages stretching out like a twisted mirror. Each house in Sector Twelve was identical—cheap, boxy stone structures stacked side by side as if spat out from some machine without thought or care.
Inside, a twelve-year-old girl watched it roll down the glass. She sat on the windowsill, legs tucked to her chest, the downpour distracting her from a recent dream. It was a weird one.
She did not remember much, but she recalled a boy, face blurry, smiling at her. With scarlet red hands drenched in blood. She also remembered being in an unfamiliar place, in a large, barren stretch of land.
And the strangest thing was- it was not raining. She stood there, looking up at... at nothing. There was no blackness, no ceiling high above. Just... upness, stretching out infinitely.
Iris’s father sat by the hearth, carving the last scrap of meat from a bone. The fire crackled weakly, barely enough to chase away the cold that seeped through the stone walls. The stone houses stretched on forever, each one filled with people just as cold, just as tired. The rain soaked everything- houses, clothes, skin. Even the air felt damp. The people outside moved slowly, heads bowed against the drizzle, their faces hollow and pale.
Outside, the sound of heavy boots on wet stone echoed through the streets. Iris stiffened unconsciously. The noblemen and their Prowlers were making their rounds. Two of them appeared, their gleaming clothes an affront to the dreariness of the city. The clank of their boots on the muddy ground sent shivers through the crowd. People avoided their gaze, shrinking back into doorways, too scared to meet their eyes.
"Move along, you!" one of the noblemen barked at a woman struggling with a cart full of firewood. "You’ll work until you’re told otherwise."
Iris´ father came up briefly to the window beside her, shaking his head. "Yoran tried for it," he muttered in a low voice. Her mother, stirring the pot over the fire, froze.
"They´re dragging his body down the streets as an example." He clenched his fists and Iris understood. The surface. She had heard the stories of the world above, where the air was warm, and something called the sun shone down from an infinite open blue-colored void. But no one had ever made it. The noblemen saw to that. Prowlers covered the exits, armed and ruthless, killing anyone who dared to climb beyond their station. And even if they somehow made it beyond the Prowlers and the Shroud, where would they go?
Beyond the clunky houses, Arnem's true city glittered like a cruel joke. The noblemen lived in their grand homes in Sector One, free from the cold, damp existence that weighed everyone here down. They dined on foods the people here could barely imagine and lounged in rooms that never saw a drop of rain in their houses.
And yet, they sent their guards down here into the wet, crumbling streets, just to remind everyone below who was in control.
The people here were, after all, not even human.
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The crash came suddenly.
Her soft cheek was still stuffed into the pillow when she woke up to a deafening shriek. She jerked up, her twelve-year-old brain trying to grasp the situation. She tried to call out for her parents but her voice croaked, and the rest of it was drowned by shouts coming from outside.
She rushed down but stopped on the stairs as she heard a crackling of flames.
"It´s them!" she seemed to hear her father shout over the voice. "It´s them! Take Iris and run! I´ll hold them off!"
Iris suddenly noticed her mother´s silhouette downstairs in front of her. Her mother swooped up and grabbed her by the hand, a little more tightly than Iris was used to. “What-” she blinked, her body tense. She tried to resist the grip but relaxed on seeing her mother´s face. She was crying.
"Come," she said softly, and they stepped outside through the back door into the night.
Fires had sprung up amidst the rain-soaked houses, casting a hellish orange glow over the streets. People ran, shouting, crying, trying to flee from the twisted shadows that moved unnaturally fast through the smoke and flames. Ghouls.
“Run!” her mother shouted, pulling her through the narrow alley behind the cottage, her voice barely audible above the chaos.
They stumbled through the rain, feet slipping in the mud as the destruction grew closer. Flames licked at the stone walls of the cottages as they passed, the heat searing even through the downpour. Iris tried not to look back, but she could hear the screams and the crashing of homes being torn apart.
A sudden roar split the air, louder than the rest, and the ground beneath them trembled. Before she could react, part of a burning roof collapsed ahead of them, blocking their path. The flames surged upward, fueled by the wooden beams and somehow even the rain, creating a wall of fire between them and their escape. Iris’s mother skidded to a halt, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts as she turned to find another way out. The fire spread quickly, eating away at the structure as more debris fell, trapping them in the narrow alley.
“Stay close,” her mother said, her voice shaking and eyes wide in horror. Her eyes darted around frantically, looking for any opening, any chance. And then her gaze landed on a gap above the rubble.
“You have to climb,” her mother said, her voice tight.
“No, I-” Iris began, but her mother’s firm grip cut her off. She quickly embraced her daughter in a tight hug.
“Climb!” she insisted, her voice breaking.
Iris felt her heart pound as she scrambled onto the fallen debris, the heat from the fire so intense it felt like her skin would burn. Her mother hoisted her up, pushing her toward the narrow gap in the wall of flame. Just as Iris reached the top her mother turned sharply, grabbing a kitchen knife from her dress.
"Go!” she shouted, her voice full of urgency.
“But, Mama-”
“I’ll be right behind you, go!”
Then she smiled up at Iris as a figure came closer and closer. Her mother´s face was burnt and tired, her hair disheveled. Her eyes looked sad, dark, and much older than in the evening. Iris did not understand.
"Hey, sweety," she said over the violent flames. "Everything will be okay."
Iris´ eyes wide, she tossed herself over the debris and the flames, landing with a soft thud on the ground. She rolled over on the stone, her clothes covered in dirt. It took her a second to realize what had happened, but when she did she got up instantly, finding herself alone but safe behind. The smoke was rising higher and higher despite the drizzle.
"Mom?" she cried desperately, her eyes open and fixated in front of her as she saw figures from between the cracks in the flames on the other side.
"Leave. Her. Alone!" her mother screamed.
Iris felt a burning emotion. She stared at the red band wrapped hastily around her left wrist, then turned and ran, acting seemingly on impulse. Tears blurred her vision as her feet pounded against the wet stone, her chest heaving with sobs. She didn’t know where she was going. The fire spread in every direction, the darkness of the city closing in around her. Her foot was stinging since she´d stepped into the fire for a split second. She cried, as though the fire was poison to her.
Suddenly, a hulking shadow blocked her path in the distance. She gasped out loudly and came to a halt in front of another figure lying face-down on the ground. The black cloak with familiar markings was instantly recognizable. A Prowler.
He was not moving, and the fire swept closer and closer to them. Iris bent down and shook the man´s body. She screamed. Her mind started to feel dizzy as a Ghoul drew closer.
Crawling on all fours, she picked up a sheathed weapon lying beside the dead man and retrieved a dagger from it, pointing the bright gold Obsidian weapon toward the figure. Her hands vibrated uncontrollably. Then the shadow came even closer, and Iris saw them properly for the first time.
At first, it looked human, a man perhaps, but something about it felt... off. Its posture was unnatural, limbs too long and gaunt, the sharp contours of its bones pressing against pale skin, as though the body might tear itself apart at any moment. Its eyes glowed an eerie, blood-red, cutting through the darkness and locking onto Iris with a gaze so intense it made her heart stutter. Her breath caught in her throat.
She took a step back. The scent of blood, thick and metallic, hit her like a wave, flooding her senses. The ground was stained dark, slick with something fresh.
The figure’s lips curled into a sickening grin, revealing sharp, serrated teeth that gleamed wetly in the dim light. Its chest expanded and then, from its back, a red-black appendage erupted, writhing like some monstrous, living muscle. The thing twisted and coiled in the air, radiating a dark, unnatural energy, moving with an eerie fluidity. It was like nothing she had ever seen before.
The creature stepped closer, its movements deliberate, predatory. Iris swallowed. Her eyes darted all over the place, looking for a sign of help. There was none.
Suddenly the dagger in her hand started glowing brighter and brighter. The golden surface morphed into a blinding white light, and then traces of purple slowly started forming. Soon, Iris held a crimson and purple blade, with shining black markings on one side. A sudden urge to attack with all her might dawned upon her, as though her hands had a mind of their own. She gripped the dagger even more tightly.
"No!" she pulled them back at once. But once again, she felt a wave of fury, a voice in her head shouting "I´ll kill you!" again and again.
"No," Iris said again. The Ghoul was not moving. It did not attack, but simply stood there motionless, staring at the dagger. At least, that´s what Iris guessed.
Then suddenly, surprisingly, it turned. The flames still drew closer, but the Ghoul backed away at once, leaving Iris alone.
Just then she felt a chill run down her spine. By now her clothes were completely damp and darker colored, clinging to her body. Her short shoulder-length hair felt heavy, and a single drip of water dropped down her chin. She gasped, dropped her weapon, and ran.
She choked and ran as far as her legs would allow, slamming her feet against the cobblestones as she darted down the alley, her lungs surprised by the sudden burst of speed. The burn on her ankle ached much more than usual, but inexplicably, at the same time, her body found the energy to continue running faster with every step. She didn’t dare look back.
The town was in havoc, houses burning everywhere. Ghouls killing people, even Prowlers.
Iris turned sharply and stumbled into a narrow passage between two crumbling houses. For a short while, she felt like she´d heard footsteps follow her. However, the sounds had now died out.
Then suddenly, her foot got caught on the jagged cobblestones beneath her. The uneven ground gave way under her weight, and in an instant, her ankle twisted and her leg crumpled beneath her, sending her crashing down against the stone. Pain throbbed through her head and for a moment, she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Everything around her felt distant, and her cheek was wet and touching the ground.
The alley was dark, with nothing but the faint sound of water dripping from above and the distant echoes of the city. She pressed her back against the cold stone wall, trying to control her breathing.
Silence.
She could still smell smoke, but the narrow alley felt deserted nonetheless, distant from the fighting . . . the killing. Iris holed up in the corner against the wall, her hands wrapped around her little folded legs and her face buried into her thighs.
And she found herself sobbing uncontrollably . . . silently, as though trying to hide from the world. She thought of her parents. It was not supposed to end this way. Her mother´s last words still reverberated in her head.
"No . . ."
The rain seeped through the cracks above as usual. The alley felt like a prison, its narrow walls closing in on her, suffocating her as the hours stretched on.
She exhaled shakily, wiping sweat from her brow. But her body immediately tensed when she heard something else. Footsteps. Human ones, this time soft and deliberate, coming from the opposite direction.
When Iris finally peered out a bit, her eyes, red from crying and full of fury and anger, were visible through the small gap between her hands. She felt herself surrounded by dark figures. She looked up and saw a pair of polished brown boots in front of her, stopped just before her face. A man peered down at her, his expression predatory.
The last thing she could recall was a voice.
Strange, intimidating, and oddly comforting.
"Hello, little girl."
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