Chapter Two

As we trudged down the damp and echoing steps of the basement, a cloak of darkness seemed to swallow us whole. The only sound was our own footsteps and the distant drip of unseen water.

Terra's voice trembled, breaking the oppressive silence. "Hmm, guys, where are we going?" Her eyes darted around, the whites reflecting the dim light from our lanterns.

Tryoult, ever the pillar of strength in our group, kept his eyes forward. "I don't know, but it's got to be worth a fortune if it's hidden away behind all these doors.

We finally came to a halt, the cramped corridor opening up into a cavernous expanse that consumed the light and left us in pitch blackness.It's like we've been swallowed by the night," I muttered, more to myself than the others. As I scanned the darkness, a strange sensation overtook me—my eyes began to adapt, shifting to a vivid red.

Terra shrieked beside me, her voice a mix of fear and confusion. "Raejin! What's happening to your eyes? Why are they red?!"

With my newfound vision, I saw what we'd stumbled upon—a statue, seated upon a throne as if it ruled over the darkness itself, a sword in its left hand and a tome in its right.

Before anyone could react, the heavy sound of stone against stone echoed as the doors behind us clanged shut. Panic ensued.

Lauren's voice wavered with fear. "What is going on!?"

From the ground, warrior-like statues began to rise, an eerie glow emanating from the flames that now encircled the central statue.

Terra, in a blind panic, made a dash for the door. The sickening sound of an arrow piercing flesh followed. She fell, an arrow embedded in her heart.

Trox Saikes made to rush to her, but I caught his arm. "Don't! Anyone who tries to escape... dies."

Ignoring my warning, Trox Saikes broke free and sprinted towards the door—only to be met by the same fate as Terra.

"Stay back!" I yelled, hoping to prevent any more senseless deaths. "The door is death!" The giant statue began its advance, and each step shook the ground beneath us. With every thunderous step, it seemed to draw the shadow of death closer.

Kade Tryoult, seizing the moment, picked up the sword that had fallen near the statue. "Stand back," he said, a determined glint in his eye. "I'll handle this."

Suddenly, a blast of heat and light shattered the air. The doors burst open, and a figure stepped through—Srax Veridann, the Ashborn King, his presence alone enough to knock the others to the ground.

"Hey kid, better run if you don't want to be toasted!" His voice boomed through the cavern. Srax Veridann spoke in a language unknown to me. As the words left his lips, the statues that had surrounded us began to crack and crumble—except for the one that had come to life.

The cavern, steeped in darkness, came alive with the power struggle between the Ashborn King and the animate statue. Srax Veridann, his silhouette outlined by the flickering flames, stood regal and imposing. His eyes, the color of molten lava, surveyed the statue with a warrior's appraisal.

I, feeling a wellspring of power bubbling within, watched in awe. My hands trembled, not with fear but with the burgeoning force I could scarcely understand. As Srax Veridann and the statue clashed, the sound of metal against stone reverberated through the chamber.

The Ashborn King moved with a grace that belied his size, his motions a dance of destruction. He wielded no weapon; his very presence was a force of nature. The statue, animated by some ancient magic, fought with a relentless fury, its sword a blur of silver in the dim light.

In the chaos, My eyes, now glowing a fierce red, seemed to act as a beacon, cutting through the darkness. Without warning, a surge of energy coursed through me, raw and untamed. My surprise was palpable, my body tensing as I struggled to contain it.

Srax Veridann, in a display of power, summoned a torrent of flames that engulfed his stone adversary, turning the cavern into a furnace. Yet, the statue remained unyielded, its form somehow resistant to the searing heat.

It was then that I, driven by instinct, extended my hands. A pulsating red aura enveloped me, and with a cry of shock and defiance, I unleashed a stream of energy that crackled through the air, striking the statue. The impact was like the roar of thunder—a flash of light that illuminated every corner of the dark expanse.

The combined might of my unexpected prowess and Srax Veridann's fiery onslaught proved too much. The statue, once an invincible sentinel of the dark, began to fracture, its form crumbling under the assault of fire and power.

The statuesque warriors that had risen from the ground lay in ruins, their glow extinguished. And as the dust settled, the group stood in silence, the weight of their survival heavy on their shoulders. My eyes returned to normal, and I looked at my hands in disbelief, the revelation of my latent power both exhilarating and terrifying.

As the echoes of the crumbling statue faded, the group's relief was palpable, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sense of unease. Srax Veridann's gaze lingered on me with a newfound wariness. The flames that danced in my eyes moments before were now dimmed by a cloud of suspicion.

"Raejin," Srax began, his voice no longer booming but carrying a dangerous edge, "that power... it is not something born of this realm. Tell me, who are you really?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. I was still reeling from the manifestation of my own abilities when I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. He knew little of my heritage—my ancestors were a tapestry of shadows and whispers.

Kade Tryoult stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. "My king, his past is not our concern. He's fought with us, for us."

But the Ashborn King was not swayed. His voice, though low, carried the weight of command. "Ancestry is the chain that binds us to destiny. His power..." Srax paused, searching in my eyes. "It is reminiscent of the Demon King, whose tyranny once brought the world to its knees."

The air grew thick with tension, and the group exchanged uneasy glances. The Demon King was a figure of legend, a shadow from a bygone era when the world was engulfed in darkness and fire.

"I am no descendant of a demon," I stated, my voice firm despite the tremor of uncertainty. "I am merely..."

"Merely what?" Srax interjected. "You unleashed a power that has not been seen since the age of the Demon King. How can you explain that?"

I had no answer. My past, a puzzle I had long struggled to piece together, now seemed even more enigmatic.

Lauren, who had been silent, spoke up. "If Raejin were a threat, wouldn't we have known by now? He's saved our lives."

"Power such as his does not reveal itself lightly," Srax retorted. "It waits for the moment—the perfect confluence of desperation and chaos. We should be wary of the strength that sleeps within him."

The discussion was cut short by the shifting rubble. The room quaked as if protesting the tension that filled it. Srax Veridann turned his attention to the sealed doors, now ajar with the destruction of their guardian.

"We must move forward," he declared, his voice resuming its commanding boom. "But be warned, Raejin, the eyes of the Ashborn are upon you. Any sign of treachery, and you shall meet the same fate as the stone soldiers."

With a mix of dread and determination, the group gathered their meager belongings and ventured deeper into the labyrinthine depths. My mind, a whirlwind of fear and unanswered questions, could not shake the chilling thought: What if the lineage of the Demon King did indeed flow through my veins?

As we moved through the shadowed corridors, the weight of my journey and of my mysterious power lay heavy upon me. What lay ahead was unknown, but one thing was certain: the path we walked was lined with danger, and the truth of my past was a specter that would not long remain silent.

The weight of Srax Veridann's words still hung over me like a shroud. I had to keep my secret for fear that any hint of my power would not only endanger my place at the academy but also my life.

As I walked through the hallowed halls, I felt the history etched into the stone walls. The air was thick with the promise of greatness and the peril of secrets. My fellow initiates were the offspring of nobility like me, each carrying their own dreams of ascension. However, I walked with a different purpose. I needed to learn control, to understand the power that had awakened within me, lest it reveal itself at the wrong time and confirm Srax Veridann's fears.

The days were rigorous, filled with combat training, strategy sessions, and lessons on the subtle art of leadership. I excelled in my studies, my natural aptitude earning me the respect of my peers and the watchful eyes of my instructors.

In the evenings, when the other initiates filled the halls with laughter and tales of their future reigns, I retreated to the solitude of the academy's vast library. There, among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls, I searched for any scrap of knowledge about the Demon King and his lineage. I came across texts of forbidden lore and whispers of curses from long ago. The more I read, the more I began to question his own nature. Was I destined to follow in the footsteps of a tyrant?

One evening, as twilight bathed the academy in a soft glow, my clandestine research was interrupted by Kade Tryoult, who had tracked me from the classes to here.

"You should not be alone with such thoughts," Kade said, his voice echoing between the bookshelves.

I closed the heavy tome before him, hiding its sinister contents. "And yet, I must. If there is truth to Srax's suspicions, I need to be prepared."

Kade nodded, understanding the burden I carried. "Then let us prepare together. You are not alone in this, Raejin. Remember that."

Together, we pored over the texts, piecing together fragments of history and searching for a way to sever the chains of a destiny I never asked for.

The two weeks passed in a blur of study and secrecy. I managed to keep his powers concealed; I controlled them, growing day by day. But as the final day of the initiates' induction approached, a grand tournament was announced to showcase the skills they had honed.

I knew this was the true test. In the heat of battle, under the scrutiny of the kingdom's elite, could I keep the demon within leashed? Or would the eyes of the Ashborn see through the facade and witness the power of the supposed demon lineage on full display?

As the initiates took their places in the arena, the air crackling with anticipation, I steadied my breath. I would fight with skill and cunning, but above all, I would keep the shadows at bay. For now, my secret will remain in the darkness. But the question lingered, as persistent as the shadow of a doubt: for how long?