The Kingdom of Empherim glistened under the sunlight, but its core now stirred with shadows.
After the summoning, the kingdom had expected peace and power. Instead, whispers filled the halls—whispers of the anomaly. Of Akin. The king's expression had never softened since the day he declared Akin an abomination and sent him to the cursed land. But not everyone agreed with that verdict.
Jendol and Annabel, still adjusting to their new world and powers, had not forgotten. In fact, they couldn't forget—not even if they tried. The guilt weighed on them like chains.
At first, they tried to plead, tried to ask about Akin's whereabouts. But their persistence became a nuisance to the court. That's when the Head Mage and the King summoned them privately. The room was cold and empty except for two royal guards standing at attention behind the throne.
The king's tone was grave.
"You wish to rebel for the sake of someone who shouldn't exist?"
"We just want to know if he's safe," Annabel said, her voice trembling.
"He was your friend. You owe him that much!" Jendol added firmly.
The king leaned forward. "You have two choices… Support the kingdom—or perish."
Silence fell. It wasn't just a threat; it was a sentence. The cold truth of this world—they were summoned not as people, but as tools. Jendol clenched his fists. Annabel looked away, fighting tears.
Fear crushed them. Not of death, but of being powerless to change anything.
"…We will serve the kingdom," Jendol said finally. His voice cracked, but he did not look away.
Annabel nodded beside him. "For now…"
Far from the grand halls of Empherim, Akin's body lay broken at the base of a black mountain, deep in the cursed land.
It was cold. His limbs were numb, and every breath was a struggle. The very air felt toxic, heavy with an unknown energy that weighed on his chest. He tried to stand, but stumbled and fell again, the pain shooting through his side.
He wasn't dead. Not yet. But he had never felt closer.
Dark trees towered over him, whispering secrets in tongues he couldn't understand. The ground pulsed faintly—like the heartbeat of something ancient and angry buried beneath.
"I'm not supposed to be here…" he murmured. "This wasn't meant for me…"
The memories hit him all at once.
His mother laughing as she dished out food in their small kitchen in Nigeria. His father teaching him how to ride a bicycle. The rain, the quiet streets, the smell of home-cooked jollof rice. His heart ached with longing. He missed the dull moments. The normalcy. The simplicity.
He remembered watching Annabel from afar during break time. And how he felt when he saw her get summoned—her and Jendol, glowing in that pillar of light. He had reached out without thinking, trying to help... and that was the moment everything changed.
He wasn't the hero. He wasn't the chosen one.
He was the mistake.
Tears streamed down his face. "This world… took everything from me…"
The wind howled in the distance, and he stumbled toward the rocky shadows of a cave beneath the mountain. His body barely moved, yet he dragged himself inside, collapsing near the back wall.
For a moment, he simply lay there, letting the silence consume him.
Then, something stirred within him—not magic, not strength, but something rawer. Resolve.
His voice was hoarse. His body trembled. But his words were sharp and clear.
"Be it life or death… in spirit or in flesh… I will get my revenge."
The wind outside paused, as if listening. The cursed land responded with a strange echo—faint whispers weaving through the cave. His aura flickered, faintly blue for a split second.
Unseen to Akin, the ground beneath him pulsed.
Something ancient had awakened.
And it had heard his vow.