Far beyond the whispering trees of Willowend, in the heart of a realm carved from obsidian and ancient fire, the *King of the Dark Dominion* sat in stillness.
Kairos.
The Demon King.
His throne sat untouched in the grand hall of shadows. His crown rested on stone. And he — ruler of war, keeper of the veil between worlds — knelt beneath the twisted roots of the *Groove of Remembrance*, a sacred hollow hidden beneath his fortress, where even the wind held its breath.
Here, power was not taken — it was earned.
He was shirtless, inked in ritual markings that glowed faintly in the dim light. His eyes, normally aflame with red, were closed as he meditated — his mind drifting between dimensions, his thoughts silent.
Then the air shifted.
Thickened.
He opened his eyes.
A ripple moved through the shadows. Then a shimmer like stardust took form before him — a figure cloaked in translucent veils, her face hidden behind a mask carved of glass and moonlight.
The *Oracle*.
Kairos rose to his full height, towering and still. "You rarely enter my grove uninvited," he said, voice like velvet over a blade.
The Oracle's voice echoed in strange harmony, as if spoken by many tongues at once. "I come when the veil moves, and it has moved."
Kairos narrowed his eyes. "Speak."
The Oracle hovered closer. "The *key* you've sought... the one lost to time... has fallen."
He stepped forward, breath sharp. "Where?"
A pause.
Then, the name.
*"Mytherra."*
The shadows seemed to retreat at the word. Kairos clenched his fists.
"Impossible," he growled. "The Veil is sealed. The rift—destroyed."
"Time is a stubborn illusion," the Oracle whispered. "She is here. Not born of this world, but pulled into it… at the moment your fate thread burned brightest."
Kairos's jaw clenched. "Who is she?"
"A mortal," the Oracle said. "But not ordinary. Tethered to the old blood. She bears a mark you once cast aside."
His heart thundered in his chest.
He remembered the mark.
A curse… or a bond. Depending on the soul who wore it.
"And she walks freely in Mytherra?" he asked.
"She walks. She searches. She does not yet know what she is," the Oracle answered. "But the world already bends to her presence."
Kairos turned from her, pacing. "I have waited centuries. Watched the stars die. My armies bleed. All for a sign. And now you tell me she stumbles into my world like a wandering dream?""She is the dream," the Oracle said. "And the nightmare. If she dies… the gate will die with her."
A silence fell between them. Then the Oracle added, "You must find her before *they* do."
Kairos's head snapped up. "Who else knows?"
"Those who crave the old magic. The devourers. The hollow ones. They've felt the shift. They move through the trees… watching."
Kairos's voice lowered to a growl. "If they touch her—"
"Then your dominion burns. And your fate with it."
For the first time in years, the unshakable king felt something stir in his chest: urgency. Dread. And something worse — something dangerously close to hope.
"I will bring her here," he said darkly. "And if she is the key…"
…The Oracle tilted her head, the veils around her shimmering faintly. "You must decide. Whether to use her… or protect her."
Kairos took a step closer, his voice low, dangerous. "I do not *use* what belongs to fate. I claim it."
The Oracle was silent for a moment. Then she whispered, "Be careful, Kairos. The heart is not made of steel, no matter how long it's been hardened by war."
He looked away, eyes burning like coals. "I buried my heart centuries ago."
She moved toward him, slower now. "And yet... here you are, ready to chase the echo of a girl not meant for this world. The mark she bears was once yours — bound by ancient pact, sealed in blood."
Kairos froze.
"She bears it unknowingly," the Oracle continued, her voice growing softer, more haunting. "But the power beneath it is waking. She will draw attention. From the wrong kind."
"What mark?" he asked, his voice low and edged. "Where?"
The Oracle extended a pale hand. A shimmer appeared between her fingers — an outline of a sigil, sharp and ancient, blazing faintly in violet and gold.
"It lies just below her skin, dormant… until awakened by choice or danger," she said. "But she's begun to hear the call. Soon, others will sense it. You must find her before they do. And above all…"
She stepped close, her voice like a thread of wind.
*"Tell her to hide the mark at all cost."*
Kairos's eyes narrowed. "You think she'll trust me?"
"She won't," the Oracle replied. "But trust was never your weapon. Survival is."
Silence stretched again.
Then Kairos turned, shadows swirling at his feet. "If she is mine by fate… no realm will keep her from me."
He vanished into the darkness like smoke drawn into flame.
And the Oracle was alone again in the sacred grove, her gaze tilted skyward as she whispered to the stars, "Let the threads weave as they will. But may the girl survive it."
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And across the expanse of Mytherra, the winds whispered her name.
*Lena.*
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