The bells of Haven tolled in the still morning, their low notes carrying across the valley. For most, they were a call to routine, the rhythm of life in the hidden city. For Kael and the chosen strike team, the bells rang with a heavier meaning. Today was the day they would step into the Demon Lands.
Kael stood at the edge of the training grounds, the healer's wolf at his side. The beast had grown closer to him with every week. Its fur gleamed white in the light, eyes like molten gold fixed on Kael with a loyalty that surprised him. At first, the wolf had only guarded his mother, lying across the doorway of her chamber, growling at anyone who came too close. But when Kael began spending his nights at her side, the wolf had grown used to his presence. In time, it followed him. Now it was more than a guardian, it was a companion, a presence that steadied Kael when his demon instincts began to claw at his mind.
Vale approached across the grounds, cloak sweeping behind him. His presence drew silence from the soldiers who trained there, each man and woman bowing their heads. He stopped before Kael, his voice steady but sharp.
"The team is chosen. The decision was not made lightly. This mission cannot rely on numbers. Strength will draw notice. Silence is our shield."
Kael met his gaze. "Who goes?"
Vale's eyes moved across the grounds. One by one, the chosen stepped forward.
First came Mira, her veil drawn tight, her hands already sparking faintly with magic. She said nothing, but her posture spoke volumes: sharp, focused, unwilling to waver.
Then Thrain, hammer across his back, beard braided tight. He muttered to himself about the foolishness of stealth, but his fists were already tightening, eager for the fight ahead.
Elandor followed, calm as always, his eyes clear as glass. He inclined his head to Kael, no words spoken, but a silent reassurance offered.
Galen Cassian Vale Jr. strode forward next, every step a challenge. His dark hair caught the wind, his jaw set like stone. He folded his arms across his chest and locked eyes with Kael, the unspoken rivalry burning between them like fire.
Behind him came Selena, light on her feet, copper hair gleaming. She smiled faintly at Kael, though her brother's glare still lingered. Her presence softened the edges of the moment.
Then Finnick and Joren arrived, late as usual. Finnick tripped on the edge of the step, caught himself with a flourish, and bowed dramatically toward Selena. "Fear not, my lady, for I shall protect you from all things wicked, dark, and tall."
Joren rolled his eyes and shoved him forward. "He means he was asleep. And so was I. But we are here now."
Mira's sigh was audible even through her veil.
Vale ignored their antics, his voice cutting through. "Two of my commanders will join us. Men I trust with my life. And a handful of soldiers, chosen for silence and loyalty."
Kael nodded slowly. It was not an army. It was not even a company. It was a blade in the dark.
The wolf growled low, as though understanding. Kael laid a hand on its neck. "And him," he said firmly.
Vale's gaze flicked to the wolf, then back to Kael. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he nodded. "Yes. Him too."
That night, Kael walked the halls of the healer's chambers. His mother lay still, though her color had returned, her breath steady. He sat beside her and took her hand, his voice quiet.
"Mother. I found them. Elira. Sora. They are alive. I am going to bring them back." His throat tightened, but he pressed on. "I swear it, even if it kills me."
Her lips moved faintly, though her eyes stayed shut. Kael leaned closer and caught the whisper. "Do not lose yourself."
He bowed his head, pressing her hand to his forehead. "I will try. But if it means saving them, I do not know if I can promise."
The wolf whined softly behind him, as if echoing her warning.
The days that followed were filled with preparation. The strike team trained together under Vale's eye. Kael clashed often with Galen Cassian, their practice duels sharp and brutal. Wooden blades cracked against each other, sparks flying as sorcery flared.
"You hesitate," Galen Cassian growled, shoving Kael back.
Kael gritted his teeth. "I do not."
"You do. You hold back because you fear yourself." Galen Cassian pressed harder, his strikes coming fast. "But hesitation kills. One day you will falter, and someone else will pay."
Kael's anger surged. His demon blood stirred, whispering in his ears. His eyes burned faintly red as he swung harder. Galen Cassian stumbled, barely blocking. For a moment, Kael almost lost control.
Vale's voice cut like steel. "Enough!"
Both froze. Kael's chest heaved; Galen Cassian's glare was sharp.
Darius Vale stepped between them. "Rivalry is a forge, but it can also be poison. You will need each other before this is done. Remember that."
Selena placed a hand on her brother's arm, whispering, "Let it go."
Galen Cassian tore away, muttering, "He will doom us all."
Kael lowered his blade, shame and fury twisting inside him. The wolf pressed against his leg, grounding him.
In the quieter hours, bonds began to grow.
Thrain showed Joren how to grip his weapon properly. "You swing it like a drunk throwing a chair. Put your weight behind it, not your pride."
Joren scowled. "And yet it works."
"Only if the enemy is drunker than you," Thrain muttered. But there was no malice in his tone, only gruff care.
Finnick, meanwhile, spent his time trying to charm every healer, sorceress, and soldier who passed by. Most ignored him. Some laughed. Selena rolled her eyes, though Kael noticed she hid a smile.
Elandor spoke little, but when Kael stumbled in sorcery practice, he would murmur a single word. "Balance." When Kael grew frustrated, he would say, "Breath." Slowly, Kael began to understand.
Mira kept her distance, but Kael caught her watching him often, her gaze unreadable.
On the final night before departure, the team gathered in the council chamber. Vale stood before them, cloak draped over his shoulders, his voice calm.
"We enter the Demon Lands not as soldiers, but as shadows. Our goal is simple. Retrieve Elira and Sora. Nothing more. If we are seen, we do not fight. If we are cornered, we strike and vanish. If one of us falls, we do not linger."
His gaze swept them all, sharp and steady. "The mission is not victory. The mission is survival."
Kael felt the words like chains around his chest. He wanted to promise more, to promise triumph, to promise death for Malakar. But he said nothing. He simply laid a hand on the wolf's fur and nodded.
Vale raised his hand. "We leave at dawn."
That night, Kael could not sleep. He dreamed of the sword again, glowing in the cavern. This time, the blade pulsed with hunger. He reached for it, and his reflection in the steel showed not his face, but his father's, then his own twisted with horns and fire.
He woke in a cold sweat, the wolf staring at him, golden eyes unblinking. For a long time, he sat in the dark, hand resting on its fur, listening to the silence of Haven.
When the dawn came, he was ready.
The gates of Haven opened in silence. No horns, no cheers, no banners. The strike team moved out at dawn with only the sound of boots on stone and the low growl of the wolf. Vale led at the front, his cloak heavy against the wind, his sword sheathed at his back. Behind him came his two commanders, their faces hard as iron.
Kael followed with Mira, Thrain, and Elandor close by. Finnick and Joren whispered to each other at the rear, already drawing sharp looks from Galen Cassian, who walked with his jaw set. Selena moved near Kael, her copper hair catching what little light the morning offered.
The road curved down into the forest, and as the hidden walls of Haven vanished from view, Kael felt the weight of the world settle on his shoulders. His hand rested on the wolf's neck, its steady warmth grounding him.
They traveled in silence for the first hours, the only sounds the crunch of leaves and the breath of the beast. It was Galen who broke the stillness.
"We move too openly," he muttered. "Scouts will see us."
Vale did not turn. "Scouts will see nothing. Not if they value their lives."
Galen scowled but said no more.
By the second day, the forest grew darker. The air turned heavy, the trees twisted, their branches clawing like skeletal hands. Villages appeared, or what remained of them. Houses burned and abandoned, wells poisoned, fields black with ash.
Kael stopped at one ruin, kneeling beside a child's toy half-buried in the dirt. A wooden horse, its legs broken, its head cracked. His hand tightened around it until his knuckles whitened.
The wolf whined low, nudging his arm.
"We keep moving," Vale said sharply.
Kael left the toy in the dust.
That night, they made camp in the hollow of a ravine. Thrain kept watch with his hammer across his lap, Mira traced wards in the dirt, and Elandor sat still as stone, his eyes glowing faintly in the firelight.
Finnick, of course, could not stay quiet. He sat close to Selena, his grin wide. "You know, I once killed three demons with a single dagger. Perhaps four. My memory blurs, but the point stands."
Selena raised an eyebrow. "You killed three demons, or your memory killed three demons?"
Joren snorted. "He killed none. He tripped over a rock, stabbed the air, and the demons died of laughter."
The group chuckled despite themselves. Even Mira's eyes softened beneath her veil. Kael shook his head but allowed the laughter. In the dark lands, even foolishness was a kind of shield.
The third day brought danger.
The wolf stiffened before the rest heard it. Kael felt the beast's muscles tighten under his hand, its golden eyes fixed ahead. Vale raised a hand, and the group dropped low.
From the ridge above came the sound of chains. A caravan moved across the road, demons driving human slaves bound in iron. Their gaunt faces turned toward the forest, hollow eyes scanning the shadows.
Finnick's hand twitched toward his blades. "We can take them."
"No," Vale whispered. "We cannot risk it."
Kael's jaw tightened. His sisters had once been dragged like this. He saw their faces in every chained child. His blood boiled, his demon side whispering, urging him to strike.
The wolf growled low, pressing against him. Kael closed his eyes, forcing his breath steady. He wanted to leap, to kill, to free. But he remembered his mother's words. Do not lose yourself.
The caravan passed. Vale's gaze lingered on Kael. No words were spoken, but Kael knew he had been seen.
On the fourth night, they rested in the ruins of a village built into cliffs. The walls were marked with claw scars, the smell of old blood lingering.
Joren slipped away during camp, only to return an hour later, grinning. "I found a game," he announced.
Vale's eyes narrowed. "A game?"
Joren dropped a pouch of coins on the ground. "With a group of dwarves passing through. I lost three games, won one, lost the rest."
Thrain groaned. "You will gamble with your life one day."
"I already do," Joren replied, smirking.
Kael frowned. "And what did you win?"
Joren's grin widened. He dropped a folded scrap of parchment on the table. "A map. Not complete, but it shows paths near the Demon City. The dwarves claim it was stolen from a demon patrol."
Vale studied it in silence. Finally, he nodded once. "Keep gambling then. But next time, lose with purpose."
For the first time, Joren's grin faltered.
On the fifth day, Kael dreamed.
He walked the halls of the Demon City, the fortress towering above him. In his hand was the ancestral sword, glowing with power. Demons fell before him, the blade singing with fire. His sisters stood free, their chains shattered.
Then the dream shifted. His reflection in the sword was not his own. Red eyes burned, horns curved from his brow, and claws tore from his hands. He struck again, and this time it was not demons who fell. It was his allies. Selena, Galen, Finnick, Joren, Mira, Thrain, Elandor. Each is cut down by his blade.
He woke with a cry, the wolf's weight pressing against his chest, grounding him. His hands trembled, sweat dripping down his brow.
For a long time, he sat in silence, staring at his palms, as if expecting claws to sprout from them.
By the end of the week, the land had shifted entirely. The trees thinned, replaced by stone spires that jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Fires burned in pits, casting smoke that smelled of sulfur and ash. The ground itself seemed poisoned, cracked, and black.
The Demon City loomed in the distance, its spires twisted, its walls built of stone and bone. Kael felt the air thicken, his chest heavy with each breath. His sisters were there. He could feel them, as if their blood called to his.
Vale raised his hand, halting the group. His voice was slow but steady. "We are here. From this moment forward, every sound is a blade against our throats. We move as shadows. We leave no trace."
The wolf growled softly, as if in agreement.
Kael looked at the twisted fortress, his heart burning. His sisters were close. His rage was closer.
And the sword's whisper in his mind was louder than ever.
The Demon City was not a place built, but a wound that had festered. Its walls rose from black stone fused with bone, twisted towers jutting like broken spears against a blood-red sky. Fires burned in pits that never died, their smoke curling upward to choke the stars. The streets were narrow and slick, lined with cages where shadows stirred but never cried.
The strike team moved in silence. Vale led them along forgotten paths, slipping between broken walls and ruined arches. Mira cloaked them in wards of shadow, faint veils that bent sight away from them. The wolf padded low to the ground, every muscle tense, its nose twitching with every foul scent.
Kael could barely breathe. The closer they drew, the stronger the call in his blood. His chest burned, his eyes glowed faintly, no matter how hard he tried to dim them. He felt his sisters. He felt their fear.
Selena noticed his trembling hand. She whispered, "Stay steady. They need you alive, not reckless."
Kael nodded, though his jaw clenched so hard it ached.
They slipped past patrols: demons with jagged blades, vampires hunched over bowls of blood, wolves chained in iron collars. Each time, the wolf bristled, but Vale's hand guided them on, silent and unseen.
Finally, they reached the fortress.
It loomed above them, a mass of stone and spire, its gates carved with screaming faces frozen in agony. Above the archway, black banners hung, stitched with the sigil of Malakar, a crown of horns over a broken chain.
Vale whispered, "Inside. Quickly."
They passed through a servant's tunnel, narrow and foul, the stench of rot filling their throats. They emerged into the lower halls, where torches burned green and shadows clung unnaturally to the walls.
Kael's heart pounded. He could feel them. His sisters. Close.
The halls twisted like a labyrinth, but Vale walked with purpose, as if he had studied these paths long before. At last, they reached a chamber sealed by iron bars.
Inside, chained against the wall, were two young women.
Elira and Sora.
Kael froze. His breath caught, his vision blurred. His sisters were older now, no longer the children he remembered. Their bodies were thin, their eyes hollow, their wrists raw from chains. But they were alive.
"Elira," he whispered. "Sora."
Their heads lifted weakly. For a heartbeat, disbelief flickered in their eyes. Then Elira's lips parted, a cracked whisper escaping. "Kael?"
The sound broke him. He rushed forward, slamming his hands against the bars. "I am here. I found you. I will take you home."
Sora's eyes filled with tears. She reached as far as her chains allowed, her voice trembling. "We thought, we thought you were dead."
Kael's throat burned. "Never. I swore I would find you. I swore it."
Vale's command cut sharply. "Mira. The chains."
Mira stepped forward, her hands glowing with runes. She traced symbols along the iron, whispering incantations that made the metal scream. Sparks flew, the wards unraveling. With a crack, the chains fell loose.
Elira collapsed into Kael's arms. He caught her, trembling as he felt how light she was, how fragile. Sora clung to him, sobbing softly.
"I have you," Kael whispered. His tears fell freely. "I will never let go again."
The wolf pressed against them, whining softly, as if welcoming them back.
For a moment, there was only relief. For a moment, the nightmare seemed broken.
Then a sound cut through the chamber.
Steel sliding from a sheath.
Kael looked up. One of Vale's commanders, Lord Kareth, had drawn his blade. His face was shadowed, but his eyes gleamed with cold resolve.
Vale's voice was ice. "What are you doing, Kareth?"
Kareth's lips twisted. "What must be done. You think we can walk into the Demon-Lord's fortress and leave unseen? Fool. He knows. He has always known. We are not rescuers. We are bait."
Mira hissed, magic crackling around her hands. "Traitor."
Kareth raised his blade, his voice rising. "For the Holy Land. For order. I will not allow this abomination to rise again." His eyes were fixed on Kael, glowing faintly red, with his sisters clinging to him. "The boy is the key to ruin. Better he dies here, with them."
Kael's fury surged, his demon blood boiling. But before he could move, the wolf lunged.
Its jaws clamped onto Kareth's arm, dragging him back. His blade clattered to the stone as he screamed. The team erupted.
"Guards!" Kareth roared. His voice echoed through the halls.
Footsteps thundered above. The fortress shook with the sound of approaching forces.
Vale struck Kareth across the jaw, sending him sprawling. "You have doomed us all."
Already, shadows moved in the doorway. Demons poured in, their weapons gleaming, their eyes burning. Behind them came vampires, their fangs slick with blood, their claws dripping venom.
The strike team formed a circle, blades drawn, magic flaring. Kael pushed his sisters behind him, his heart pounding.
"Stay behind me," he whispered.
Elira's voice cracked. "You cannot fight them all."
Kael's eyes burned red. "I will try."
Darius Vale raised his sword, his voice cutting across the chamber. "To arms. We fight our way out."
The fortress roared with the sound of demons closing in.