Darkheart Castle had stood for over ten thousand years.
Kings had risen.
Empires had fallen.
Gods had died.
Yet beneath its foundations...
there existed places even the royal family feared.
Places erased from maps.
Places forgotten by history itself.
Places where nightmares slept.
And tonight...
those nightmares were waking.
The atmosphere inside the royal chamber had become heavy.
Nobody spoke for several moments.
The revelation that someone had entered the lower tunnels changed everything.
Because there was only one destination below Darkheart.
The prison.
The prison of the First King.
Fenrir slowly turned toward Sirius.
His crimson eyes had become colder.
Dangerously cold.
"How long ago?"
Sirius immediately understood the question.
"The tracks are recent."
"Hours at most."
Fenrir cursed.
That alone shocked Damian.
His father almost never cursed.
Not openly.
Not in front of others.
Not even during wars.
Yet now...
the king looked genuinely angry.
Not afraid.
Angry.
As if someone had violated something sacred.
Scarlett stepped forward.
"Could it be one of the elders?"
Fenrir shook his head.
"No."
"They wouldn't be stupid enough."
Sirius crossed his arms.
"Unless they were desperate."
Nobody liked that possibility.
The elders ruled most of vampire society.
Powerful.
Ancient.
Influential.
But not all of them were loyal.
Some feared Damian.
Others hated him.
And some wanted him dead.
The prophecy had divided many people.
Even among vampires.
Damian listened quietly.
His thoughts however were elsewhere.
The voice.
The prison.
The goddess.
The First King.
Everything felt connected.
Like pieces of a puzzle.
Pieces he couldn't yet see clearly.
Then he remembered something.
A detail.
A strange detail.
The Blood Eater.
The monster from the forest.
It had recognized him.
Not only recognized him.
It had bowed.
The memory made his skin crawl.
A creature powerful enough to fight Sirius.
Yet it treated him like royalty.
Why?
The prince finally spoke.
"The Blood Eater."
Everyone looked at him.
Damian continued.
"It knew me."
Fenrir nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nobody answered.
Again.
The prince nearly laughed.
Of course.
Another secret.
Another hidden truth.
Then surprisingly...
Scarlett answered.
"Because creatures like it remember."
Damian frowned.
"What does that mean?"
The queen hesitated.
Then slowly spoke.
"Some monsters are older than kingdoms."
"Older than races."
"Older than history."
The prince listened carefully.
Scarlett continued.
"They remember things others forgot."
"They remember truths buried by time."
"They remember the First Age."
A chill traveled down Damian's spine.
The First Age.
He had heard that name before.
Ancient stories.
Ancient myths.
A forgotten era before recorded history.
An age when gods walked openly among mortals.
An age of monsters.
An age of miracles.
And horrors.
The queen's golden eyes darkened.
"The Blood Eater existed during that time."
The room became silent.
Even Damian felt surprised.
The monster was that old?
Thousands of years?
No.
Much older.
The realization was unsettling.
Then Scarlett said something worse.
"It probably recognized your blood."
The prince froze.
"My blood?"
The queen nodded.
"Or someone who carried it."
Before Damian could ask more...
BOOOOOOM!!
The castle shook again.
This time harder than ever.
The walls cracked.
Several bookshelves collapsed.
A distant scream echoed through the fortress.
Then another.
And another.
Fenrir's eyes narrowed.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Sirius immediately moved toward the door.
But before he reached it...
A guard burst into the chamber.
Covered in blood.
His armor damaged.
His face pale.
"YOUR MAJESTY!"
The man fell to one knee.
Breathing heavily.
Fenrir immediately stepped forward.
"What happened?"
The guard swallowed.
Fear filled his eyes.
Not normal fear.
Pure terror.
"The lower levels."
Everyone froze.
The guard's voice trembled.
"The prisoners are gone."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The prince frowned.
"What prisoners?"
Nobody answered.
The guard continued.
"The cells were opened."
"The chains were broken."
"Everyone disappeared."
Damian looked toward Fenrir.
The king's expression had become terrifying.
Pure killing intent leaked from his body.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Scarlett's face lost color.
Even Sirius looked shocked.
Clearly these prisoners mattered.
A lot.
Then Fenrir asked
"How many?"
The answer came instantly.
"Three hundred and twelve."
The room exploded with tension.
Damian finally had enough.
"What prisoners?"
This time nobody could ignore him.
Fenrir sighed.
A long sigh.
Then answered.
"The Forgotten."
The prince frowned.
"The Forgotten?"
The king nodded.
"Ancient monsters."
Damian felt his heartbeat accelerate.
"How ancient?"
Fenrir looked directly at him.
"Some fought alongside the First King."
Silence.
The words struck harder than any weapon.
Three hundred monsters.
Ancient monsters.
Followers of the First King.
And now...
they were free.
Far beneath Darkheart.
In the forgotten depths.
Darkness dominated everything.
Massive chains hung from the ceiling.
Ancient runes glowed weakly.
The prison had once been magnificent.
Now it looked old.
Tired.
Dying.
The seal was weakening.
At the center of the enormous chamber stood a throne.
A black throne.
Made from an unknown material.
Neither stone.
Nor metal.
Something older.
Something alive.
And seated upon that throne...
was a giant.
A monster.
A king.
The First King.
His body was still restrained.
Thousands of chains pierced his flesh.
His wrists.
His chest.
His neck.
His legs.
Each chain carried divine power.
Enough power to imprison gods.
Yet cracks covered them now.
Thousands of cracks.
The giant slowly opened his crimson eyes.
The chamber trembled.
The darkness itself seemed afraid.
Then he smiled.
A calm smile.
Not evil.
Not cruel.
Simply patient.
Like a king waiting for an old friend.
Footsteps echoed through the chamber.
The silver-haired goddess emerged from the shadows.
Her beauty could make entire nations kneel.
Her divine aura illuminated the darkness.
Yet the First King merely looked at her.
Then laughed.
A deep laugh.
A familiar laugh.
"You finally came."
The goddess remained silent.
The giant smiled.
"Still beautiful."
The goddess rolled her eyes.
"Still imprisoned."
The First King laughed louder.
The sound shook the prison.
For several moments neither spoke.
Then the goddess looked toward him.
Her silver eyes serious.
"He's awake."
The giant's smile widened.
"Yes."
The goddess continued.
"The prophecy is moving."
The First King nodded.
"I know."
Silence followed.
Then the goddess asked
"Do you still intend to tell him?"
The giant became quiet.
For the first time.
His smile faded.
His gaze shifted upward.
Toward the world above.
Toward Darkheart.
Toward Damian.
After a long moment he finally spoke.
"He deserves the truth."
The goddess closed her eyes.
Almost sadly.
"That truth might destroy him."
The giant's crimson eyes narrowed.
"No."
His voice became softer.
Almost regretful.
"The lie will destroy him."
Far above.
Inside Darkheart Castle.
Damian suddenly felt a chill.
A strange feeling.
As if someone had spoken about him.
As if fate itself had shifted.
And somewhere deep inside his soul...
Something ancient stirred.
Watching.
Waiting.
Remembering.
The beginning of a story older than the world itself.