That night, there was no sleep in the palace of Valladolid. Bonfires burned in the main square. People of all races gathered, some weeping, some hugging old weapons, and others staring at the empty sky—looking for a reason not to surrender. In my throne room, I stood before a large map displayed on the wall. Red marks spread from the west from the unhealed scars of Elaran. "This is no mere attack," Vulc murmured beside me. "It's a message. They want us to retaliate. To call us monsters, and justify their next slaughter." "And we cannot stand idly by," I said softly. "If we keep our heads down, they will trample us until nothing is left." "So what do you plan to do?" I stared at the center of the map: Fort Caelum, the rallying point for the Order of the Light's forces in the northwest. Not a city. Not a village. But an armed stronghold.
"We'll hit them there," I said. "Not to retaliate. But to stop the momentum." Vulc frowned. "They'll call this the opening of the war." "So be it," I breathed. "If war is inevitable… then let me open the first curtain, with my eyes wide open." Three days later, the sky above Caelum turned red. My troops came not with the beat of war drums, but in silence. Like shadows, they crept through the mountain passes, so that when my first arrow flew, not a single enemy soldier had time to scream. It was not a massacre. It was a warning. I ordered that no one touch the young priests or the medics. They were tied up and released into the woods with the message: "Go. And bring word that the devil grants mercy, even when men carry knives in their hands."
The fortress of Caelum was destroyed overnight. And the world… burned. A few days later, Seraphine reappeared. This time not as an emissary of peace, but as a warlord. She stood atop the walls of the holy city of Tenebrae, surrounded by holy knights. Her broadcast was broadcast across the land through the sacred mirrors of the Order of Light. "Hear this, tainted world! The Blasphemer. Arven, Raelzar has now tainted the holy land with the blood of the guardians of light! He is no longer human. He is a demon. And from this day on, holy war is declared!" she declared loudly for all to see. Cheers echoed from the city. But on the other side of the world, a different echo began to be heard. From the multiracial port city of Al'Ruun, to the underground valleys of the Kurin race, small voices began to unite: "If the demon protects us, then let us be called followers of darkness."
In my tower, Lysette stared at the broadcast with dull eyes. "You know… there's no going back after this." I stared at the mirror that had just gone out. "I know." She looked at me, slowly, then said softly, "Then let me stay by your side. Not as a spy. But as a witness." I turned to her. "Do you believe me now?" "No," she answered honestly. "But I want to see the truth… until the end." And that was enough for me. That night, I stood before my people—who came from ruins, from forsaken lands, from dark valleys and valleys that the upper world refuses to look upon.
"War has been declared upon us," my voice echoed across the vast plain. "Not because we attack… but because we exist. Because we are different. Because we will not bow to the blinding light." A low roar began to rise, like thunder deep underground. "The world calls this a holy war. But we do not fight for heaven. We fight for home. For the right to live without being branded as unclean. For a future not written by prophets deaf to pain." My hand rose.
"If that makes us demons… then let us be the demons they conquer not with the sword—but with the courage to live!" A cheer erupted. The sky looked redder that night. And I knew… A fire had been lit. But from this fire, a new world would be born—or the old world would fall with it.