The dark era came when humanity least expected it. Prayers were no longer answered, and miracles seemed to vanish from existence as the moon cast its shadow across the sun, plunging the world into an unnatural darkness. Then it happened. The nights grew longer, stretching far beyond their natural limits, and from within that endless darkness, they arrived. Creatures born of the abyss, beings that should never have existed in the mortal realm. Demons emerged from the shadows, whispering temptations into the hearts of men before slaughtering them without mercy, turning humanity's greatest fears into a horrifying reality.Sacrifices were made, and countless prayers were offered, but all that answered humanity was silence. It was then that a terrifying realization dawned upon them. God had forsaken them. Their sins had piled too high, their arrogance had grown too great, and when mankind dared to challenge the heavens, this was His response. He turned away and allowed Hell to run loose up

The world was never the same after the war.Although the demons and the Devil had been locked away, their memory lingered like a wound that refused to close. You could still smell it, that foul, sulphurous rot riding the ocean breeze at dusk. You could taste the rust in the rainwater, the metallic taste.The skies were cleaner now, the streets rebuilt, daily life resumed but that didn’t mean the scars were gone, humanity just learned the art of healing.In the aftermath, six great powers rose from the ruins, each claiming dominion over vast stretches of the reborn world. They called themselves Thrones, the Silver Throne, the Golden Throne, the Diamond Throne, the Ruby Throne, the Obsidian Throne, and the Galactic Throne.Each owning large vast of land, cities, towns, this was how new countries were label. In the Galactic Throne, at the far corner of the mansion's eastern wall, where the ivy grew thickest and the torchlight never quite reached, a boy pressed himself flat against the st

Nobody moved for three full seconds. The crowd that had been running stopped, pressed against walls and doorframes, watching.The man was General Xsavier Vagmood, Galactic second mightiest knight and his guardian angel was the Arch Angel Azazel. He rolled his neck once, and the frost ribboning from his skin thickened curling outward across the ruined street in slow waves."Platinum." He roared, his tone full of anger. "Formation Delta.” He pointed towards the beast, a blade of ice forming, “The Myrathon is mine. Everything else is yours — clear the field."“Yes!!!”Five of them dispersed immediately, sprawling into action.The first down was a woman, short, compact, twin blades already drawn, her divine energy wrapping her forearms in crackling violet light. Sera Voss. Chase had never heard the name but he watched her move and understood instinctively that she was a Master Knight."Voraths regrouping from the east," she said, already moving. "Forty, maybe fifty.""Take Rhett." Xsavier

At least he got a car.That was the thought Chase carried down the servant's corridor, bag over one shoulder, the card of money Augustine had left on the desk without comment tucked into his breast pocket, a dismissal fee.The bag wasn't heavy. Some clothes, ones his father had bought him out of obligation. After all Chase was a Baltimore can’t have him dressing the same clothes. Books occasionally. Toys, when Chase was younger, though he'd stopped acknowledging those after his ninth birthday.He didn't use the front door. That instruction hadn't needed to be given, he understood the geometry of his existence in this house well enough. His arrival had been through the side gate, five years old, hand held by a social administrator he'd never seen before or since. His departure would mirror it.He cut through the east garden toward the rear gate.That was when he saw them. They were in the far corner, near the enclosed fence where the climbing roses grew thick enough to provide cover fr

The economy train took two days.Chase had no other choice, this was all he could manage. Plane ticket: impossible. Fast train: impossible. The slow one, the one that stopped at every station and smelled of old upholstery and someone else's lunch: that was his speed now.He didn't mind as much as he expected to.The window gave him sky and passing mountain ranges and enough silence to think, which was either a gift or a punishment depending on the hour. He turned the black card over in his fingers until the edges felt familiar. In the envelope the man had left alongside it. He never told him his name, just call me Mr. Hope, were two things: a letter sealed with wax he hadn't broken yet, and a single handwritten line.The journey ahead is yours and yours alone.Chase had read it four times. It wasn't comfort exactly it just made him think quite a lot and for such a journey, it helped him kill time.He watched the landscape change outside the glass and thought about what Mr. Hope had sa