Far beneath the world of men, in the heart of the Dark Valley, a crimson light burned. It pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and unrelenting, illuminating a vast chamber carved from black stone. Here, where no wind dared blow and no mortal dared tread, sat the Demon Ruler upon his throne of obsidian and bone.
Around him, the air shimmered with shadow. Countless lesser demons knelt in silence, their bodies trembling as whispers echoed from the throne itself. The Ruler's form was shrouded in darkness, only his eyes visible—twin embers burning through the gloom.
"The boy has awakened," came his voice, deep and ancient, like mountains groaning beneath the earth.
The chamber shuddered as he rose. The sound of chains rattled through the cavern as tendrils of shadow coiled around his arms, moving like living smoke.
A lesser demon dared to speak. "My lord… the raiders who went after him have fallen. The silver flame devoured them."
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, a low laugh—soft at first, then echoing into madness.
"Good," the Ruler hissed. "Let him burn. Let the fire consume his flesh and pride. When the flame tires, it will beg for the dark to cool it."
He turned toward the far wall, where a massive stone tablet was etched with runes that glowed faintly red. It depicted an ancient war—dragons locked in battle with creatures of the abyss. One figure stood at the center, its form both man and beast: the Silver Dragon.
The Ruler reached out, his claws tracing the carved image of the dragon's head.
"You sealed us here, old one. You thought your bloodline would protect them. But your spawn carries more than your strength…" His grin widened, cruel and knowing. "…he carries your weakness."
From the shadows behind the throne stepped a figure cloaked in black armor, its face hidden beneath a steel mask. Its voice was cold, mechanical.
"My lord, shall I summon the armies?"
The Ruler's eyes blazed brighter. "Not yet. Let him grow. Let him believe he's free. When the silver flame reaches its brightest…" He leaned forward, the shadows tightening around him. "…I will smother it—and the world will forget that light ever existed."
Thunder rumbled far above, shaking the earth.
The Demon Ruler sat back on his throne, his laughter echoing through the chamber, reverberating through the caverns and mountains until even the night air above Telmar trembled with it.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, Kael stirred in his sleep, haunted by a dream of wings breaking, of fire turning to ash.