PROLOGUE

  Felseen

  24th day of Eldoriad, Year 1011 of the Custorian Calendar

  They’re coming for us.

  The last surviving members of the royal guards swiftly positioned themselves throughout the throne room. Their shouts and the soft rustle of bloodied body armor filled the air as they prepared for one final stand. Some braced themselves against the giant wooden doors as the enemy clawed and rammed against the timber. Others took positions to attack with both swords and rifles, waiting for the inevitable breach.

  I couldn’t help them even if I wanted to. Men of the demon race are typically quite tall and strong, but being a bit of an anomaly, I was no bigger than a dwarf and possessed the strength of a child compared to my brethren. There was nothing I could do to stop the creatures coming for our lives. For everyone’s lives.

  I nervously scratched at the base of my left horn, looking around at the men I had known for decades, having never seen even a hint of fear in their eyes until now. Almost everyone in the castle and the surrounding towns had been killed or turned into one of those abominations. And these men knew they were about to meet the same fate.

  “We’re running out of time.” A large hand gripped my shoulder from behind.

  Amid the chaos, my king pulled me aside, ushering me across the colossal room and behind his throne.

  “Felseen, it won’t be long before the Brax enter this chamber. When they do, you must be gone.”

  He found a stone in the wall and pressed it in. A soft click sounded, and a portion of the wall swung slowly inward. King Drargan had long ago revealed to me that below this giant castle lay an escape tunnel for the royal family. However, in all my decades of service, I had never discovered the hidden entrance or even suspected it was here, behind the throne–only meters from where I stood each day.

  Looking into the dark passage before me, I took a fearful step back, chills running down my spine. A reassuring hand met my back and halted my retreat. “My Lord, I-I don’t-”

  “What I am about to ask of you is more important than any task that you have ever been given. You must go to the shelter at the end of these tunnels and use the Communication Ring within. Warn the other nations that the Brax have returned...and what we discovered. Our allies can not be allowed to summon the bearer of the soul. If they do, all will be lost.”

  I swallowed nervously and looked up at my king. He stared into the darkness of the passage, his jaw clenched tight.

  “My Lord, it should be you! Flee! Live! The tunnels are meant for the royal family to escape through. Not your retainer...come with me!” I pleaded, desperate for him to survive.

  Hearing my quavering words, he knelt and looked deep into my eyes. “If the cause is just, then it is a warrior’s sworn duty never to flee from battle. Every man here stands ready to give his life–to die honorably, so that our souls may be embraced by the Nine. If we fled, our souls would be turned away when they attempt to cross Joriah's River. Felseen, I will die here today with my head held high, knowing that I did not go quietly. I will see these monsters bleed for the lives they have taken.” His hands gently gripped my shoulders. "And you're right. These tunnels are for the royal family.”

  My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and a sad smile crossed his grey face. “My most loyal retainer, always remember that you were never just my friend. You were like a son to me. Escape, send the message, and live. Let my last command as your king be the one that saves you, and everyone else in this world. I have lost my nation. I do not wish to lose you, too.” He squeezed my shoulders, a hint of desperation trickling into his voice. My lips trembled as I held his gaze. The violet eyes looking down on me betrayed no hint of the fear he must have been feeling. They only held a deep sadness.

  Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around the black steel breastplate of his ceremonial armor. He was so large that the tips of my fingers couldn't even reach the pits of his arms. The raised insignia of House Blackvein rested against my cheek, and I pressed myself into it. The discomfort would deepen the memory of this moment.

  I should be by your side, Drargan. Not running.

  Releasing him from my embrace, my gaze returned to the darkness of the passage with trepidation, as he hurriedly explained how to navigate the tunnels below the castle. A small ember stone was placed in my hand, and a gentle nudge urged me forward into the passage.

  “Felseen, I do not know what more I could have done to save our people from this nightmare and slaughter. Perhaps it was my failure as their king. But if the gods are good, you will survive this night.”

  My mouth opened to proclaim I wanted to die fighting by his side, but I stopped myself before the words crossed my lips. I knew how many lives depended on my success, but that didn't stop the ache in my heart as I struggled to find my resolve.

  With a forced smile, he stood and picked up his sword.

  “Sire!” A guard shouted from far behind him.

  He turned and froze. Everyone in the enormous throne room had gone still, yet somehow become even more agitated than they had been only moments before. Then I realized why. The scratching of claws and hammering of weapons against the doors had stopped, replaced by something worse—silence.

  Every single person in the throne room listened desperately for any clue as to what the enemy was doing. No one dared move in those tense seconds. I wanted so desperately to believe that perhaps they had left. That my king and these men would see another sunrise. But the gods would show us no mercy this night.

  Over the explosive beating of my own heart, a new sound emerged from far beyond the doors. A set of heavy footsteps was bearing down on us, and they were getting louder at a terrifying rate. My king's upper lip pulled back in a snarl that revealed his sharply pointed cuspids, and the hilt of his scimitar, Severance, creaked under his tightening grip. He spun and slammed his hand onto the hidden switch.

  "Tell my family I died with honor."

  The stone door swung shut, and I bowed one last time to the strongest demon that ever lived as he walked bravely toward his death. At the last second, the sound of shattering wood pierced the air as the entrance to the throne room was destroyed. The passage door closed, and the ground rumbled under the force of a deafening roar.

  The Acolyte had arrived.

  Through the stone came muffled battle cries, mixed with the sounds of mana rifles being fired. An instant later, screams of pain and terror reached me as the enemy swarmed in like a plague. My body shook as I turned around in the passage, now facing the nightmare that was the endless black abyss.

  You left your king to die.

  Coward.

  The darkness would have swallowed me whole if not for the small ember stone in my right hand. Thankfully, as I willed a small but steady stream of mana into the ember, an orange-red glow emerged to fight back the shadows. I would be alone in here, yet each step forward felt like walking further into the mouth of a predator desperate for its next meal. Every fiber of my being begged for me to curl into a ball, seeking some sort of false sanctuary from the horrors that had invaded our world. Somehow, I resisted.

  As I reached the bottom of the stairwell that took me beneath the castle, the stone floor ended and one of dirt was now underfoot. The escape tunnel beckoned me into its maw.

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  I did my best to remember my king’s instructions—despite my panic—for going down an incorrect path would lead me into a labyrinth laden with traps. Yet uncertainty already whispered its poisoned tales of doubt into my ear.

  Turning right at the first fork, my nose wrinkled. The air was quickly becoming mustier and more stale the deeper I ventured into the cobweb-riddled tunnels. A slow, tremulous breath filled my lungs, and through pursed lips, it left me, attempting to slow my racing heart. Despite the distance I'd placed between myself and the slaughter, it still beat furiously. And I knew why.

  These tunnels had been built to accommodate demons of an average size, but even with all this space around my small frame, I still couldn’t shake the claustrophobia that had plagued me ever since I fell into a well as a child. Or the thought that at any moment a black claw would seize me from behind and drag me into the darkness.

  My free hand traced the cool stone wall beside me as I walked. Focusing on the rough masonry beneath my fingertips helped to calm me, even if only slightly. At the next fork, I chose the path leading right.

  Three rights, two lefts, a straight, and two rights.

  Quickening my pace, I jogged down the seemingly endless tunnel, ignoring the cobwebs as my face tore through them and they clung to the two short horns over my temples. Never before had I failed a task given to me by King Drargan, and today would not be the day that changed. Most of my forty years on this world had been spent loyally working for the royal family, like my father before me and his father before him. Tirelessly laboring behind the scenes to help facilitate anything that would benefit the king and his family.

  I made another right.

  Drargan had carried the hopes, dreams, and futures of his people in his heart and agonized constantly over whether his choices were in the best interests of his subjects. He and the King of Elric had done so much to help promote equality between the races over the last twenty years, and the results had finally begun to show throughout the world.

  Without even realizing it, I became lost in a sea of memories, finding safety and courage in their embrace. But that came to an abrupt end when I reached another fork in the tunnel. My blood pressure spiked as my head oscillated between the paths. "Oh gods," I mumbled. Letting my mind wander had been a terrible mistake.

  Was it two rights or three?

  #

  It felt like at least an hour had passed since I’d started navigating the escape tunnels, and still no hint of a way out.

  Did I take a wrong turn? Were they all wrong turns? Am I in the labyrinth?

  The loose grip I’d had on the ember stone tightened. Regardless of the cold air biting at my skin, a thin layer of sweat now covered me. I fought to quash my rising fear and slow my breathing, but lost the struggle. These tunnels were going to be my grave.

  "I-I’m never going to get out of here," I stammered.

  Alone and afraid, what a fitting end for one who abandoned their king.

  Giving in to panic, I ran. I ran until my legs burned and my lungs were on fire. But still, I pushed on. I told myself the moisture in my eyes was the sweat from my brow, but that was a lie. And still, I ran.

  The tunnel angled to the right and–by the grace of Custos–brought me to a heavy wooden door. I cheered seeing that salvation stood before me. Rushing forward, I grasped the circular metal ring that hung from the door and pulled at the only thing between me and freedom. Nothing. It wouldn’t budge. My excitement dissolved back into panic as I planted my feet and leaned back, pulling with all my might. Still nothing.

  I swiftly shone my ember stone around the perimeter of the door, making sure I hadn’t overlooked a latch in my haste. No such luck. What I did find were rusted hinges.

  This can't be how it ends. Everyone is counting on me. And he believed in me.

  I grabbed the ring with both hands and used a foot to press on the frame.

  “I…am not…dying…today!” I shouted, giving it everything I had. With a loud groan of the hinges, the door slid open a crack. After another minute of pulling, the gap widened enough to stick my hand through.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow and gave it one last wrench. The door finally surrendered and swung wide.

  Perhaps the gods did hear my prayers.

  With the door open, I had my next obstacle to deal with. Several wooden storage boxes blocked the exit. The large boxes were stacked two across and two high, reaching the top of the door. Most likely, they had been strategically placed to hide the tunnel entrance in case anyone managed to find this isolated place.

  I tried to peer around them to ensure no one was there, but failed. So I waited, straining to hear any Brax that may be nearby. Them or those...things. Gods, did I wish I could hear as well as a beastman right now.

  After a time, confident I was alone, I grasped the sides of the top right box and prepared to move it so I could climb into the room. The wooden box felt worn and splintery in my hands. A grunt escaped me as I struggled to slide the heavy object. The bottom box must have been rotted from pests, or time and weather, because a section of it collapsed, and the top box fell with a loud crash and broke apart, spilling its contents onto the floor.

  I held my breath, listening for the enemy that was sure to kill me at any moment. The seconds passed, and the silence remained unbroken–a fact I rejoiced in because my only weapon was a small dagger tucked into my boot.

  I put my shoulder into the rotted box and pushed. With every shove, a deep grating sound filled the shelter. Once there was enough space, I stepped through and dusted myself off.

  Moonlight shone through the wooden roof where slats had broken and fallen in, as well as through a single window on the wall to my left. The soft light illuminated several boxes—one being little more than a pile of rotten splinters now—a small wooden desk with a chair in the corner, and something covered by an old sheet. Everything had been covered in a thick layer of dust, and thanks to my graceful entrance, it now floated in front of me, made visible by the glow of the moons.

  Glancing out the window, I saw no signs of life. A dense, motionless forest surrounded the shelter. The underbrush was so overgrown with tall bushes that even if someone were nearby in the daytime, they'd likely never know this small structure existed.

  Marching over to the object covered in the sheet, I made a silent prayer to Custos: Let it be what I need it to be and let it work. My hands trembled as I ripped off the sheet. A new wave of dust wafted into the air, invading my nostrils, and I struggled not to sneeze. The sheet fell from my hands, and I thanked all nine gods. In front of me stood a smooth grey stone pedestal with a slanted circular top angled towards me. The communication ring.

  Hopefully, the primitive device still worked. There was no telling when someone last used it. Decades? Longer? Certainly not since we began using technology adapted from the prime world of Orsarion's realm–Earth.

  The Transvox in particular was a brilliant piece of equipment, allowing us to easily speak with other nations, but it relied on the relay towers to do so. And minutes before the rift between realms tore open–letting the Brax pour in like water raging from a burst dam–every tower had suddenly gone offline.

  Hanging from the ring's side was a leather pouch. I took the small, spherical blue mana stone from its leather cradle and moved to place it into the hole at the center of the ring. When the stone was close enough, it leapt from my hand as if pulled by a magnet and clicked into place.

  Pale blue light traced away from the stone. The glyphs and all the writings on the pedestal’s face began to glow, illuminating the room. It only took about thirty seconds for it to power up, but it felt like an hour. Once it finished, I selected four of the destinations and pressed the activation glyph at the bottom. The markings shone brighter, reaching out to our allies. As long as one of them answered, there was still hope. If the other nations acted quickly and attacked as one, this world could be saved. Every world would be saved.

  After a few more seconds, the blue light of the circle began to pulse and the symbol for the nation of Elric shone brightly. The signal had gotten through, and salvation spoke to me.

  “This is Captain Ibires, of the Elrican army. What in the hells is happening over there in Clawden? We haven’t been able to reach anyone for two days.”

  "Oh, thank the gods! You have to listen to me, they've returned! The–"

  I froze, hearing the slightest creak in the floor behind me. Before I could react, a massive hand covered my mouth and nose, lifting me high into the air and slamming me down so forcefully that the hardwood floor shattered beneath my head. My chest seized as the air was driven from my lungs.

  “What was that crash?! Hello?!”

  The world spun, and my vision blurred from my head colliding with the ground. Panic erupted in me as I scratched and pulled at the large, cold hand covering my face. The attacker's strength eclipsed my own, and their grip tightened further. The bones in my face screamed under the pressure. I tried to take in air, but their palm denied me that mercy. I couldn’t breathe. My right hand shot down, grabbing the dagger from its sheath by my ankle, and I attempted to stab them furiously. My terror grew with each ineffective strike that clanged against their armor.

  The attacker caught my wrist with their free hand and gripped it so tightly that my bones threatened to break. The surge of pain caused my vision to focus finally. And I froze. For a moment, I struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. Looking down on me was a familiar, grey-skinned figure. A hole in his chest, where his proud heart had once been, was my king. One of the two large, black horns that grew from his forehead had been broken off, and his violet eyes no longer radiated joy and pride; instead, they were now a pure, slick black, just like the pulsating mass in his chest that had replaced his heart.

  Without a single hint of emotion, Drargan tightened his grip and crushed my wrist. The shattered bones ground against one another and tore through muscle and skin as my dagger clattered to the floor. The pain was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I screamed what little air was left in my lungs into his palm. The hand on my face tightened its grip further and my jaw cracked with a sickening snap. I flailed against him uselessly with the hand I could still use. My feet kicked wildly on the floor, terror consuming my mind as tears tried to steal my vision.

  I was going to die.

  He placed a finger over his lips, shushing me gently. My feet kicked with less force now. My flailing hand landed more softly on his broken armor, barely making a sound. The world faded, and something warm landed on my forehead. Through the haze, I saw black lines escaping my king's soulless eyes. He was crying.

  Welcome to Next World.