Sand ripped across the Pyramids of Markilao like the whole desert woke up angry. The air burned with lunar beams and celestial bursts, every blast shaking the stacked stone blocks. Celestianites and Lunaranites were practically tearing the world apart — claws scraping armor, wings slicing wind, fangs flashing through the storm.
Blightscaw ducked behind a shattered pillar, his white scales flaring with stress. His golden eyes scanned the chaos while four Celestianites crouched behind him, gripping their glowing Divine Arrows — one shot each before the power fizzled. Miss, and they were done.
"Keep firing!" Blightscaw hissed.
He popped up, loosed a silver-tipped arrow, and watched it punch straight into a Lunaranite's shoulder. Another Celestianite followed, their shot forcing the enemy back before a lunar beam scorched the pillar into a glowing, smoking crater.
Blightscaw's claws brushed the Lost Key by his feet. Heavy. Ancient. Way too important for one Celestianite who definitely did not sign up for this level of stress.
"Where the hell am I even supposed to hide this thing?" he snarled. "Why me?!"
"Because you're the one they can't take down," one teammate said steadily. "You'll get it out. Our world needs you."
Another loosed an arrow and yelled, voice cracking, "Your family needs you! Don't freeze up, Blight!"
But Blightscaw barely heard them — because something shifted. A presence. A pressure. The kind that makes your spine lock up like stone.
A violet and black blur cut through the sandstorm, metal glinting.
King Dreadixz.
Twelve feet of Lunaranite warlord nightmare, decked out in spiked violet-and-black samurai armor, long blade humming with lunar energy. His jagged half-mask hid everything except one eye — an eye that locked right onto Blightscaw like he'd already decided where to carve him.
And in one sweeping strike, Dreadixz nearly split him clean in half.
Blightscaw stumbled back, wings flaring in raw panic—
CLANG.
A golden blur slammed between them.
King Vigilzante.
Eleven feet of pure Celestial muscle wrapped in radiant gold armor, wings blazing like dying stars. His long sword met Dreadixz's in a crash that blew sand across the pyramid like a bomb went off.
The two titans pushed against each other, sparks of lunar violet and celestial gold spilling everywhere. Vigilzante's armor was already scorched — dude was definitely getting cooked — but he refused to step back.
"Blightscaw!" he barked, voice gravel rough. "Hide the Lost Key. Now."
Blightscaw froze. "B-But your majesty— you're gonna—"
Vigilzante shoved Dreadixz back an inch, just enough to turn his face toward Blightscaw.
"That wasn't a suggestion," he growled. "That's an order! GO!"
The force in his voice punched the hesitation right out of Blightscaw.
He snatched the Lost Key, wings snapping open as he bolted into the sky. Sand whipped his face, stinging his eyes, trying to rip him out of the air. Every beat felt like shoving through a brick wall, but he powered through it.
"Don't think! Just move!" he gritted out.
Below, the war raged on. Dreadixz and Vigilzante's blades clashed again and again, each strike shaking the battlefield like thunder. But Blightscaw couldn't look back — not without losing the nerve he had left.
The top of the largest pyramid finally came into view, its sandy blocks glowing under the violent gray sky. Blightscaw landed hard, claws skidding across stone. He jammed the Lost Key into the square indentation carved into the peak—
And the world exploded in light.
White and gold swallowed everything. Shockwaves tore across the battlefield, knocking Lunaranites flat. The raging sandstorm collapsed inward, sucked into the burst of energy radiating from the pyramid — and from Blightscaw himself.
He lifted off the ground without flapping, suspended in the swirling magic as his scales lit up like molten gold. A ring of pure light blasted outward, slicing through the horizon.
When the glow finally faded, the indentation stood empty.
The Lost Key was gone.
And the Lunaranites were already retreating.
DARK DON'S PROLOGUE
I wasn't born here.
That's the first thing people get wrong.
I'm not Avangard-made. I didn't grow up under these moons, didn't learn war from Celestianites or Lunaranites. I come from another universe—the Dark Universe—from a planet called Night, where the sky barely worked and the stars looked tired of trying.
On Planet Night, you didn't dream. You trained.
"Again," my instructor would say, every time I struck too slowly.
I never talked back. Talking wasted air. Thinking wasted time. Feeling got you killed.
That's what they taught us.
Then the Gatornites came and proved them right.
Cities burned in minutes. The ground cracked like it was tired of holding us up. I ran because staying meant dying, and dying meant nothing. The escape pod didn't have coordinates. Just a launch button and a warning I ignored.
I hit it anyway.
The universe didn't ask where I wanted to go.
It dropped me in Foreshade.
I remember crawling out of the wreckage, armor sparking, one wing jammed, vision swimming—and then a voice cutting through the smoke like it didn't belong there.
"Okay, either you're dead or you're about to explain yourself."
She was holding a pipe like she'd never used one before. Not scared. Just… curious.
I told her my name was Don.
She told me I was terrible at introductions.
Her name was Silicia.
She talked. Constantly. About nothing. About everything. She laughed at things I didn't understand. She smiled like the world hadn't already tried to eat her alive. I didn't smile back. I didn't know how.
She didn't care.
She stayed.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't waiting for the next alarm.
Then the Celestianites came.
They always do.
They dragged us apart, slammed us to the ground, called me property, called her collateral. I fought. I always fight. A rifle to the head taught me how little that mattered.
Moonforge was worse than death.
It was organized suffering. Camps carved into the first moon of Avangard where Lunaranites disappeared by the thousands and nobody asked questions because the screams never stopped long enough.
Silicia tried not to look.
I looked anyway.
I told her I'd get us out. I said it like a promise. I said it like I knew how.
That's when Azor found us.
He didn't threaten. He didn't lie. He offered a way out—just for us. One job. One artifact. One escape. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was blood-soaked and irreversible.
But Silicia was alive.
And Moonforge was killing her one second at a time.
So I agreed.
The artifact had a name: Lunar Surgicon.
And a purpose: end an entire people in one activation.
When I realized that, I ran.
Azor shot me out of the sky.
I hit the moon hard enough to crack it.
And something inside me woke up.
Lunar fire poured out of me like it had been waiting. My boots burned. My wings snapped open. I rose—not because I wanted revenge, but because I couldn't stand still anymore.
I turned Moonforge into a grave.
Silver fire everywhere. Camps collapsing. Chains breaking. Lunaranites screaming—not in pain this time, but in disbelief.
Then I saw her.
Azor had Silicia.
Gun to her head. Hands shaking. Panic leaking through his voice.
He told me to drop the Surgicon.
I did.
I still had my power. But power didn't matter anymore.
I told him to let her go.
Silicia was crying. She said my name like it was the only thing holding her together.
She looked at me.
She said something.
Something important.
The gun went off.
I don't remember screaming, but the moon remembers.
Half of it disappeared. White and silver energy tore outward, erased Azor, carved a crater big enough to swallow history. I didn't hurt her. I never hurt who I don't choose to hurt.
But it was too late.
I knelt beside her in open space, debris floating like the universe forgot gravity out of respect.
I tried to revive her.
I failed.
I begged her to say it again.
Whatever it was.
Whatever she said to me.
I couldn't remember it.
That's the part that breaks me.
Not that she died.
That I lost her last words.
I flew back to Earth after that. Searched Avangard for miracles. Found none. I hate the Celestianites now—not because they killed her, but because they took the last thing she ever gave me and left me alive enough to know it's gone.
I don't forget battles.
I don't forget enemies.
But I forgot her words.
And that's why this story never ends.
Because somewhere in the noise, the war, the blood—I know I was loved.
And I can't remember how she said it.