I wake up gasping, sweat soaking my skin and my sheets twisted around me. “That voice, was it real or did I dream that?”.

I stumble to the bathroom and splash water on my face, hoping it will bring me back to reality. But when I look in the mirror, my eyes look different. Around the edges, there is a faint purple ring, as if something unnatural has marked me. I blink, but it doesn’t go away. A strange feeling twists in my stomach, part fear and part curiosity.

Classes pass by in a blur. My hand shakes when I try to take notes, but some of the words don’t look right. They almost look like symbols I have never seen before. I try to focus, but I can’t escape the feeling from the dream. It’s heavy, like I am being pulled into something much bigger than I want to admit.

After school, I find myself slowly walking home, trying to collect what has happened. In a flash, a black figure appears in front of me, but they’re vibrating as if they’re trying to mask who they are. Their hand reaches out, pulling my head up to look at theirs. This figure had a red outline on their eyes, this figure says, “So the Crownless King returns, this’ll be fun.” before disappearing.

When I get home, I see something on the doorstep. It is a feather, dark with a faint purple glow, just like the ring around my eyes. The second I touch it, a vision hits me.

I see the battlefield from my dream. The Crownless King is there, standing against forces from both sides, his power radiating. I can almost feel it myself, like it is surging through me too. But a shadow hangs over him, something massive and threatening, something that feels impossible to fight. I reach out, but everything goes black.

I snap back to the doorstep, kneeling there with my heart racing. The feather is gone, but my wrist aches where I touched it. Whatever this is, I am caught in it now, like I am in the middle of a war that has been waiting for me.

Then a shadow falls over me, one that sends a chill straight down my spine. I don’t want to turn around, but something draws me to look.

Standing there is a figure cloaked in darkness, tall and imposing, with an air that feels ancient and powerful. The figure's eyes burn with an intense red, like smoldering embers, and a twisted grin spreads across his face. It’s like he’s already assessed me, judged me, and found something that entertains him.

"So, it is true," he says, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "The Crownless King has returned. After all these years."

I try to move, but my body won’t respond. I feel trapped, like a mouse caught in the gaze of a hawk.

“I had to see it for myself,” he says, his voice low and filled with a strange satisfaction. "The heavens have tried, the hells have failed, and yet here you are, still standing. But no more.”

He lifts a spear, its edge gleaming with dark energy, and in one swift motion, he drives it straight through me. Pain explodes through my chest, hot and searing, as if my very soul is being ripped apart. I gasp, choking, feeling my strength drain away.

“You were warned,” he murmurs, leaning close, his eyes cold and amused. “Stay out of this war.”

My vision blurs, the world fading in and out as I struggle to hold onto consciousness. I slump forward, the figure’s mocking laughter echoing around me as darkness closes in.