Chapter 1

Three siblings walked home under a twilight sky.
Kael, the middle child, was lost in a daydream. A small, unconscious smile played on his lips as he planned a date with Saphira in his head. It was a fragile, normal kind of happiness. He was utterly oblivious to the nightmare waiting for them just steps away.
Myra, the youngest, walked beside him, her eyes curious and bright.
Michael, the eldest, brought up the rear, a quiet and watchful presence.
They arrived at the rusted iron gate of their secluded house. And that’s when they heard them.
Voices. From inside.
Myra paused, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Whose voices are those? We never have visitors. Who could it be?"
Michael, a man of few words, glanced at her. "What do you mean 'rarely'? I've never seen a single soul visit this house in my entire life."
Kael’s pleasant daydream shattered. The thought pulled him back to the present. "Now that you mention it... that's true. I haven't either."
Whose voices are those?
Before they could speculate further, a raw, agonized scream ripped through the air.
It was unmistakably their father’s.
Their blood ran cold.
Without a second thought, they broke into a sprint. Kael reached the door first, his heart hammering against his ribs like a wild thing. He yanked the door open.
The scene that greeted them was a slaughterhouse.
Their mother lay collapsed on the floor, unconscious… or worse. A horrific hole, as wide as a water bottle, was torn into her chest. A vast, glistening lake of blood, stretching more than ten meters, surrounded her still form.
And there, at the feet of eight strangers, was their father. He was clutching their mother's body to his chest, weeping uncontrollably.
The three siblings froze. Their minds simply refused to process the horrific tableau. The world seemed to slow to a crawl and sharpen with terrible clarity at the same time.
Suddenly, Myra’s eyes rolled back into her head. She collapsed in a dead faint against Kael. He barely caught her, lowering her gently to the floor as his own tears began to fall.
Myra's collapse drew the attention of the eight intruders.
A woman from the group stepped forward, a cruel smirk on her lips. She approached the children, her movements slow and predatory. She slowly raised a hand to touch Michael's head.
"And who owns these cute little lost lambs?" she cooed, her voice like poisoned honey.
Just as her fingers were about to make contact—
BOOM!
The roof above them exploded.
The air in the room superheated instantly, becoming so intense it felt like it was peeling the skin from their bones.
The woman, Yelena, pulled her hand back and looked over her shoulder, her smirk widening into a grotesque grin. "So these are your children? Who would have thought that the great Flame Sovereign, who vanished twenty years ago, would be hiding here... playing the role of a good father and husband."
Her voice suddenly sharpened into a scream. "Where did those fairy flames go? What happened to those eyes that killed without a second thought? Huh? Answer me, Malric!"
Malric, their father, looked up. His voice was a low, dangerous thunder that vibrated in their bones. "Yelena."
A single word, filled with unimaginable threat.
"Touch any of my children," he growled, "and you will see the eyes and the flames you have been longing to see."
As he spoke, he looked directly at her.
His eyes now glowed with an unearthly, fairy-like light. Tears of blood streamed down his cheeks.
Yelena shrieked, collapsing to the ground in a terrified heap.
Malric then turned his bloody gaze away from her. "Dalen. It seems you have finally come for me."
A man standing at the head of the group responded calmly. "You are absolutely right, Malric. We have been sent to take care of you. By 'HIM'."
Malric took a shuddering breath. "I'll let you finish me off. But on one condition. You let my children go."
Dalen chuckled softly. He moved casually towards a table of fruits and picked up a knife and an orange. He began to peel it slowly, unnervingly calm.
"Look at the state you're in," Dalen said. "You haven't used your flames in twenty long years. It's eight against one. What makes you think you have the upper hand to negotiate?"
Malric didn't flinch. "You and I both know the truth. Even now, if we fight, four or five of you would lose your lives. The rest would be wounded beyond recovery."
Dalen smiled, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. "I guess you are right. But if you knew that, why didn't you attack us? Why sacrifice yourself?"
Malric gently laid his wife's body down against the wall and stood tall. "If we fight here and now, I can't guarantee this city will be safe. Or... the lives of my children."
Dalen ate another slice. "I will take you up on your offer."
Yelena, scrambling to her feet, shouted, "What are you doing, Dalen?! Why are you taking such a cowardly method? You haven't consulted the rest of us!"
Dalen faced her, his voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, poor Yelena. We know you're the dumbest among us, but must you be so utterly stupid? You oppose this offer? Don't make me laugh. This is rich, coming from someone who just pissed herself out of fear."
The other six strangers chuckled darkly.
Yelena's face flushed with pure rage. "You will all regret making fun of me today!" she spat, before storming off to a corner.
Dalen's gaze swept over the others. "Does anyone else oppose my decision? Fighting him costs us half our number. The survivors would be easy prey on the road back. If you still oppose me, speak your reasons now."
One by one, the six replied.
A man named Lucian, lounging on a couch and clipping his nails, didn't even look up. "Combat would most likely ruin my beautiful face." He produced a small mirror to admire his reflection. "Oh, how beautiful I am today as well."
Zephyr, his arms crossed, said simply, "I'd likely die. I'd rather not fight."
A woman named Liora stared out the window and shrugged. "Do what you want. It doesn't concern me."
Jorik, dressed like a monk, clutched his beads. "Buddha would not forgive me for being stained with the blood of the young. Amitabha."
A woman named Freya gave a slight nod. "Just leave the kids alone."
But a man named Lysander looked at Malric with excited, hungry eyes. "Forget the children! Let's fight, Flame Sovereign! I've heard so many legends about you!"
Dalen ignored him. "Since it is decided, we will let the children go."
Malric looked up at the sky through the shattered roof, tears welling in his fiery eyes. "I guess... this is how my story ends."
Dalen stepped forward. "Do you have any last words, Malric?"
Malric's gaze found his children, his voice breaking with a father's love. "Michael. Take care of your younger siblings. That is your duty as the eldest." He looked at Kael. "Kael. Always listen to your brother. And when your sister wakes up… tell her that we love you all. We love you all so much."
It was at that moment that Kael's brain finally processed what was happening.
No. No. No!
But before a single word could leave his lips—a blur of motion.
Thud.
A sickening, final sound.
His father's head hit the floor. His body remained standing for one horrifying second before collapsing beside it.
A scream, raw and shattered, tore from Kael's throat. "FATHER!"
He lunged forward, letting Myra's unconscious form slump to the ground, and threw his arms around his father's legs, weeping uncontrollably.
Yelena, emboldened by the deed, stepped forward again. "How pathetic. So this is the end for the legendary Flame Sovereign." She glared at the children. "You better get moving, brats. Before I decide to kill you myself."
Michael, crying silent tears, blood trickling from where he'd bitten his lip, grabbed Kael's arm. "Kael! Let's go! Now!"
When Kael didn't respond, lost in a sea of grief, Michael hauled him up with a strength he didn't know he had. He slung Myra over his back and began dragging his siblings toward the door.
Dalen's voice stopped them cold.
"Make sure you keep what happened here a secret," he said, his tone conversational. "Anyone you tell will end up dead."
He then looked at Zephyr. "Bring me the heads of those two."
Zephyr sighed, as if he’d been asked to take out the trash. "Why is it always me?"
He walked to Malric's body, picked up the severed head, and then moved to their mother's. A sword materialized in his hand from thin air. With a single, brutal swing, he severed her head as well.
A shimmering portal, like a tear in the fabric of the world, ripped open in the air. Zephyr casually tossed both heads into the void before it snapped shut, disappearing without a trace.
All of it happened while Kael, staring back over Michael's shoulder, watched.
He watched, and he seared every horrific detail into his memory forever.
And then, they were gone.
The three siblings were alone, standing at the edge of the world they knew, which had just ended in blood and fire.