The wind howled through the ruined valley, carrying the scent of death and decay. Dark clouds churned above, blotting out the moon’s pale light, and the ground beneath was scorched and cracked—long abandoned, but never forgotten.

  A lone figure emerged from the shadows, his black cloak trailing behind him. Despite the jagged rocks, his footsteps made no sound. His very presence weighed heavy on the air, sending a chill through the bones of any who dared watch from the darkened edges of the valley.

  Kol Vaelros had returned.

  Once feared as the scourge of the realms, his name had become a whispered legend—a warning of the cost of power. His golden eyes, now dimly glowing under the hood of his cloak, scanned the broken remnants of what had once been a mighty kingdom. It was here that it had all begun. The place where he had fought, bled, and lost everything.

  His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the black fabric of his cloak. His body ached with the weight of memories, but he shoved them down. He wasn’t here to mourn. He was here to reclaim what was his.

  A sound pierced the silence—a rhythmic, heavy footstep, deliberate and unmistakable. Kol turned, his eyes narrowing as a group of figures emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn, their faces tight with fear.

  Hunters.

  "Kol Vaelros," one of them spoke, his voice steady but trembling beneath the weight of history. "You’ve been gone for years. Why return now?"

  Kol’s lips curved into a smirk, the gold of his eyes flashing. “To finish what I started.”

  The hunters’ grips on their weapons tightened. Fear thickened the air—so palpable Kol could almost taste it. It was almost... amusing.

  Without warning, one of the hunters lunged, blade flashing in the moonlight. Kol’s hand shot out with inhuman speed, gripping the hunter’s throat before the man even had time to blink. The struggle was brief, futile.

  “You should’ve run,” Kol whispered, tightening his grip. The snap of bone rang out, breaking the night’s stillness. The hunter’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The remaining hunters froze, the reality of the situation sinking in. This wasn’t just a fight. It was a reckoning.

  Kol took a slow, deliberate step forward, his presence expanding like a suffocating black flame, swallowing the light and leaving only darkness in his wake.

  "Who’s next?"

  The next day.

  Lisa Everhart adjusted the strap of her backpack as she made her way through the crowded halls of Blackwood Academy. The buzz of students talking, lockers slamming, and teachers calling for order blended into a familiar symphony of routine. She exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had clung to her since the night before.

  She had dreamed again.

  A nightmare

  The same one that had haunted her since childhood—a shadowed figure standing in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by destruction. His back was turned to her, but she always knew who he was. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of sorrow and unimaginable power. The dream always ended the same way: with him turning toward her, eyes glowing with an eerie light, reaching out before everything went black.

  Lisa shook her head. It's just a dream.

  She reached her locker, twisting the dial absently. A voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  "Lisa! You good?"

  She turned to see her best friend, Claire, eyeing her with concern. Claire had a talent for reading her moods, even when Lisa tried to hide them.

  "Yeah, just… tired," Lisa muttered, forcing a smile.

  Claire leaned against the locker beside hers, flipping her dark curls over one shoulder. "Liar. You've been acting weird for weeks. Is this about the dream thing again?"

  Lisa hesitated. "It's nothing."

  "Right. Because you always zone out in the middle of conversations for nothing."

  Lisa sighed, shutting her locker. "I don't know, Claire. It just feels… different this time."

  "Different how?"

  Lisa opened her mouth to explain, but the words stuck in her throat. How could she describe a feeling of impending doom?

  Before she could answer, a commotion erupted near the entrance of the school. A few students gasped, stepping back, while others whispered excitedly. Lisa frowned, standing on her toes to see past the crowd.

  Then she saw him.

  A boy stood in the doorway, his presence commanding without him even trying. He was tall, lean but strong, his black hair slightly tousled. But it wasn't just his looks that caught her attention—it was the way the air felt wrong around him. Heavy. Dark. As if the world itself bent slightly in his presence.

  Lisa's breath hitched. No way.

  It was him.

  The boy from her dreams.

  Her heart pounded as his piercing gaze swept over the students, indifferent to the attention he was drawing. Then, for a fraction of a second, his eyes met hers.

  Lisa felt everything around her fade—her surroundings, the voices, even the ground beneath her feet.

  The moment ended just as quickly as it began. The boy looked away and walked deeper into the school as if he had never noticed her at all.

  Lisa stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly.

  Claire nudged her. "Who is that?"

  Lisa swallowed hard.

  "I don't know," she lied.

  But deep down, she already knew.

  And she was terrified.