A cold wind howled through the ruins of what was once a village, its broken remnants swallowed by the unyielding darkness of night. Under a withered tree, far from the prying eyes of civilization, Kieran Valdros sat, his cloak draped over his body as if to shield himself from the biting air. He had chosen this place—isolated, forgotten—because he wished to be alone.

Alone with his thoughts.

Alone with his pain.

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, and despite his efforts to fight it, his heavy eyes betrayed him. Sleep took him, dragging him into the depths of memory, where the past bled into the present.

---

He was there again. The battlefield stretched before him, the sky darkened by smoke and despair. The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils as he stepped forward, his boots sinking into the crimson-stained ground. The clashing of steel and the cries of the fallen faded into a dull hum as his gaze landed on the figure lying motionless in the dirt.

Elara.

His breath hitched as he ran to her side, his trembling hands reaching for her. "Elara..." His voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

Her body was still warm, her delicate features frozen in a quiet expression of peace, yet there was no mistaking the truth—her light had been extinguished. The warmth that had always radiated from her was gone, replaced by the cruel stillness of death.

"Elara!" His voice broke, raw with desperation. He shook her, his hands gripping her shoulders, but she did not stir. His heart pounded against his ribs, his magic pulsing wildly in his veins, seeking an outlet. But even with all his strength, all his power, he could do nothing.

Fury and anguish twisted within him, his vision blurring with unshed tears. A scream tore from his throat, a sound of unbearable agony that reverberated through the battlefield. The ground beneath him trembled, the very air around him warping with his rage, but none of it mattered.

Because she was gone.

And in that moment, something inside him shattered.

---

Kieran jolted awake, his breath ragged, his body drenched in cold sweat. His golden eyes darted around, searching for the battlefield, for Elara, but all he found was the dim glow of the dying fire before him. The ruins remained unchanged, silent and unmoved by his suffering.

He clenched his fists, staring at them as if searching for something—anything—to tether him to what he once was. But there was nothing.

His humanity was slipping away, dissolving like mist in the morning sun. Where once there had been pain, sorrow, even love, now there was only a void. A hollow emptiness that no longer ached but instead swallowed him whole.

He rose to his feet, his golden eyes devoid of warmth. There was no turning back.

Elara was gone.

And with her, the last piece of his soul had died as well.

It had been two years since that day.

Two years of solitude, of wandering aimlessly through a world that had long since lost its meaning. Yet despite the passage of time, the fire of vengeance burned hotter than ever within him. Zydeco could return at any moment, and when he did, Kieran would be ready.

His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as fury surged through him. His hatred was no longer just for Zydeco but for the gods themselves—those cruel, indifferent beings who watched from above as the world crumbled.

"Damn them all," he growled, his voice thick with venom. "Zydeco, the gods, fate itself... I will tear them all down."

Kieran left the remnants behind, his steps slow and deliberate as he wandered aimlessly, head bowed, lost in thought. There was no destination—only the path before him, stretching endlessly into the unknown.

The air grew thick with an eerie stillness as he entered a jungle where death had already passed. The ground was littered with carcasses, the stench of decay clinging to the wind. Something was wrong here.

But he didn’t care.

He walked through the silent graveyard of beasts, his presence unsettling even the demons lurking within. They watched from the shadows, but none dared to move against him. They remembered him—the one who had slain their King. Their fear bound them in place, their instincts screaming at them to flee before he turned his gaze upon them.

Yet among them, one did not tremble. One demon, high among their ranks, glared after him with burning hatred.

A whisper left its lips, laced with malice and unshaken resolve. "You may have killed our ruler, but I will bring him back... and when I do, you will suffer, Kieran Valdros."

---

The high-ranking demon turned away, his purpose clear. Unlike the others who cowered in Kieran’s presence, he had a mission—one that took him far from this cursed place. He set his path westward, away from the wandering warrior, to seek out what was necessary for the resurrection of his fallen king.

His journey led him through barren wastelands and treacherous terrain, but he pressed on, unyielding in his conviction. For the Ritual of Reincarnation to succeed, he required an artifact of immense power, one hidden away by the goddess who summoned the heroes.

This goddess, a figure revered by many, was not what she seemed. To the world, she was a beacon of hope, a celestial force of virtue and light. But in the shadows, she was something far darker—ruthless, cunning, and masterful in deception. She played the part of benevolence while weaving schemes that served only her desires.

And she held the key to Zydeco’s return.

The Heart of the Forsaken.

Name: Heart of the Forsaken

Type: Sacrificial Offering

Rarity: Forbidden

Description:

The Heart of the Forsaken is a crucial offering required for the Ritual of Reincarnation, demanding the ultimate price—human life. This heart, taken from a living sacrifice, acts as the vessel that fuels the divine process, exchanging one existence for another.

Properties:

Life-for-Life Exchange: A soul cannot be reborn without another life being willingly or forcibly taken.

Blood of the Chosen: The stronger the sacrificed individual, the more powerful the reincarnation effect.

The demon smirked to himself as he neared the goddess’s hidden temple, concealed beyond mortal sight. He had no doubt she would grant him an audience. She was always eager to forge new deals, always weaving new plots.

And if it meant bringing Zydeco back, he would give her whatever she asked for.

Meanwhile, Kieran continued his path, oblivious to the storm rising in the distance.

A storm that would soon shatter the world once more.