Lucian rushed outside his room. Everything was silent, as if the world had become an audience in a grand auditorium, waiting for the bow to awaken the violin from its deep slumber.

  He felt uneasy. He held his breath, and an echoing silence rang in his ears.

  He walked. His in-house sandals against the white marble floor were the only sounds rumbling through the narrow corridor.

  “Hello,” he whispered. His own voice was the only thing that returned from the darkness.

  He reached a corner. From a window on the farthest wall, he saw bright yellow and red light. He ran toward the door at the end and pushed it open.

  High-pressure hot air slammed into his face and wafted a patch of black smoke inside. He coughed furiously. Covering his nose, Lucian pushed through the cloud of darkness.

  Scorching air scraped against his skin. Then, for the first time, he heard sounds. Human sounds. And not peaceful ones. Screaming. He heard screaming. Terrible screams. The kind that came just before a human voice shattered.

  He looked ahead. Fire was devouring everything he had ever known as home. It burned defiantly against the darkness. Beneath the silver moon, it resembled a divine dance, one whose end would mark the end of his home.

  His nose filled with the stench of smoke. His skin shrank under the heat. Dryness engulfed his body. His eyes grew harder to open, and his tongue longed desperately for moisture.

  Then, in the distance, he saw something. A creature he had never even dreamed of before. It stood amid towering clouds of smoke, its size rivaling the sky itself. Six… no, eight red glows burned upon its head. Giant antlers protruded from its skull, forming a crown of horror.

  The beast roared.

  Fear overtook Lucian. Despite the heat, an icy chill ran down his spine. His jaw trembled, as if he might crush his teeth together. His pupils shrank and expanded endlessly.

  Then something pulled him up from the open.

  Lucian felt a powerful grip clamp down on his shoulder, dragging him away. It hurt, but the pain cut through his fear. He looked back.

  It was Noelle, her face twisted with fury, her eyes blazing with desperation.

  She pulled him into a corner. Between a tall tree and a cluster of bushes, they hid from whatever that thing was.

  “Was… was that an Undead?! What’s going on? Why is everything on fire?”

  Lucian welcomed his sister with a barrage of questions, only stopping when he saw her collapse to the ground. But she was not the only one who fell. Beside her lay another woman with similar features.

  “Aris?!”

  Aris lay on the ground, blood soaking her body. Lucian knew it was the blood of the sister who had always prided herself on being strong.

  “What’s going on here?” His gaze snapped toward Noelle.

  She narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth.

  “We are under attack. Our own people have betrayed us.”

  “Our… own people?”

  “Damn it.” She slammed her fist into the ground. “I should have done something. I knew this would happen. But it’s too soon. There must be something else helping them.”

  “Noelle, what are you saying?” Lucian asked in disbelief.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Lucian.” She gripped his shoulder tightly. “Brother, you believe me, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you must do whatever I tell you.”

  “Take Aris with you and leave through the secret passage.”

  “Alright. But… What about you? And Father… and her?”

  “Lucian,” her voice rose sharply. “It’s an order.”

  That was the first time Lucian had ever seen his sister truly enraged.

  “Alright… but promise me you’ll come back.”

  Her anger softened into a quiet laugh.

  “I promise we’ll meet again, my foolish little brother. And you promise me, you’ll take care of Aris.”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  She stood and looked toward the sea of flames ahead.

  “But if I fail to return, someone will come looking for you. When they do, go with them.”

  “Don’t say such things.”

  “Alright. Now go.”

  Lucian lifted Aris onto his shoulder and walked away from the fire. As the distance grew, Noelle’s voice followed him:

  “Don’t trust any great family.”

  Then she vanished.

  The Lysander residence was vast enough to be a district of its own. Rather than a single structure, it was a collection of separate buildings, living quarters, ceremonial halls, guest houses, training grounds, and private sanctuaries, each constructed for a specific purpose and connected by stone paths and open courtyards.

  As a family holding one of the highest authorities in the Kingdom of Four Names, controversy had always followed the Lysanders. Thus, numerous hidden passageways existed for emergencies. The nearest lay beneath the square guest house, an underground tunnel that connected the estate to an isolated mountain far in the distance.

  Lucian held Aris tightly. His height made it difficult to support her properly, but desperate moments demanded the body forget pain.

  He was no medical expert, but as a Lysander, he had received basic training. He knew how dire her condition was. Noelle had applied temporary bandages, yet Aris had lost far too much blood. It would have been wiser to take her to the estate’s blood bank, but Noelle’s words left no room for doubt. Whatever was happening, it was far worse than he understood.

  They moved slowly. Too slowly. It had already taken too long to reach the square building.

  By then, Aris had regained partial consciousness, her mind dulled and unfocused.

  “They… No… let me… go…”

  “Hang in there. We’re close.”

  Soon, they reached the building. From the outside, it resembled a perfect square. Inside lay an open garden at its hollow center. Lucian carried Aris along the inner balcony that overlooked the garden.

  “Aris, we made it—”

  BOOOOM!

  Half the building exploded in an instant. Dust and debris filled the air, forcing Lucian to cough violently. His grip on Aris tightened.

  As the dust thinned, Lucian saw the same monster as before. Its massive forelimb was the source of the destruction.

  But this time, it wasn’t alone.

  Above its eight glowing eyes stood a human figure.

  Lucian strained to see, and when he did, his gaze froze.

  A man stood there. Like a ghost.

  “LUCIAN!!”

  Aris’s sudden scream snapped him back to reality. Her trembling finger pointed toward something in the distance.

  Lucian followed her gaze.

  Amid the rubble lay his father.

  “What…?”

  From the beast’s chest, the man descended. The moonlight was too weak to reveal his form, but the fire consuming the estate illuminated everything. Its cruel glow tore through the darkness and revealed the truth.

  The ghost cast eight shadows.

  The man was cloaked in pure white, like a priest standing amid blood and ruin. A white mask covered his face, carved into the visage of a dreadful demon, as though the mask itself were the remains of something monstrous.

  Driven by fear or curiosity, Lucian stepped forward.

  The masked man turned to him.

  And seven of the eight shadows peeled away from his body.

  In the next instant, Lucian realized he no longer felt Aris’s weight.

  His head snapped back.

  His eyes widened.

  Aris was pinned against the wall. In her stomach, gaped a hole large enough to see through. Seven masked figures stood around her in silence.

  “Aris… Aris… it can’t be… Father…”

  Lucian looked toward his father.

  The head of the Lysander family stared back, but he was no longer the indomitable man Lucian had admired. His skin was withered, his eyes dull and hollow.

  ‘He… he looks weak. Pathetically weak. This can’t be…’

  The man in white seized Lucian by the neck and lifted him effortlessly.

  Lucian’s father closed his eyes and smiled.

  His voice was barely a whisper, but Lucian heard every word.

  “White truly didn’t choose you… my dear, na?ve son.”

  Those were his father’s last words.

  In the next instant, the man in white crushed his neck with such force that the body collapsed, severed from life.

  Lucian fell to the wooden floor.

  The masked man approached and knelt to meet Lucian’s gaze.

  For a moment, Lucian forgot the terrifying mask and stared into his eyes.

  They were black, deep as the abyss.

  Yet Lucian did not find the evil he expected. Instead, he saw pain. Grief. Regret. Sorrow.

  Then the man whispered.

  “I had no choice. But I must do it. I must write this prologue… so you may one day reach the epilogue.”

  The white cloak darkened as his form dissolved into shadows.

  “Now run, Lucian Lysander.”

  Every shadow of the ruined house screamed the words.

  Lucian forced himself up and ran as darkness whispered in his ears.

  “Run. Run for your life. Carry the weight of your name. Hold onto resentment. Never forget this night. This is the only way… Lucian Lysander.”