"Mama, is the Wall really made of blood?"
The boy's voice was no louder than the wind clawing at the shutters. His mother didn't answer right away. She pulled him closer beneath the frayed blanket, her gaze locked on the hearth as if the fire might lend her strength.
Outside, something screamed—high, sharp, and inhuman.
The boy flinched.
She didn't.
"Tell me the story again."
She closed her eyes. There wasn't much time.
---
"When the Devil and his angels fell, they burned across the sky like dying stars. Heaven turned its face, but Earth—Earth opened her arms.
Stripped of wings and glory, they crawled across cities and forests, ravenous for something they couldn't name.
And then they saw us.
Women.
The angels loved them, but not with kindness. Their love devoured. And from that cursed union, the dark-blooded were born—neither man nor monster, forged of sin.
At first, they lived beside us. Fought beside us. Helped us purge the last of the demons who birthed them.
But poison always finds its way back to the vein.
They wanted more.
Our land. Our skies. Our children."
---
The boy burrowed closer. His breath shook against her chest.
"And then?" he whispered.
Her voice dropped.
"Then we went to the last witch.
Velmara—the Pale Flame.
They found her in a cave of bones, a blade in her fist, fire bleeding from her veins. They asked her to stop the end.
She said nothing.
She just bled.
And from that blood, the Wall was born."
She paused, voice low, rough.
"It wasn't stone. It was alive.
It screamed as it rose, its veins lit with dying god-magic.
It tore the world in half.
Us on one side.
Them on the other."
---
"For a time, it held.
Not peace—
But distance.
Then the whispers came:
The Wall is cracking.
The runes are fading.
The blood remembers."
---
Outside, the wind shifted.
Not a scream this time.
A lullaby—
Wet. Crooked.
Close.
The mother stood. Bolted the door. Barred the windows. Her hands trembled.
The boy watched her.
"Mama... is the Wall still holding?"
She swallowed hard. Smiled like it was the last thing she had left.
"Yes, baby."She lied,
---
Boom.
The door burst open.
Not a monster.
Not a man.
Tall.
Perfect.
Eyes like obsidian drowned in molten gold.
Too beautiful.
Too still.
He smiled—
And the teeth didn't match the smile.
A dark-blooded creature stepped into the room.
Skin stretched pale over carved muscle.
Claws dripping something warm and red onto the floorboards.
The mother didn't scream.
She stepped between it and the boy.
"You can't have him. Please…"
The creature tilted its head like a marionette with snapped strings.
Then it opened her—
Split her from throat to belly.
Her blood hit the boy's face.
He didn't move.
Her heart hit the floor like a ripe fig breaking open.
"Mama?"
His voice cracked.
The thing crouched low.
Its breath stank of rot, war, and something older than death.
In a voice ancient as ruin, it whispered:
"The wall is gone, little lamb ."
Then it opened its mouth—
Too wide.
Too slow.
And swallowed him whole.
---
By midnight, cities crumbled.
Kings died without a cry.
The gods watched in silence.
And at last, the pure-blooded understood what Velmara had always known:
No wall can hold back what was once your blood.
[End of Prologue]