Before the events of the Chaos.

Kyron, a knight of the Empire, carefully walked through the city's streets, scanning the faces of passersby. Lately, rumors of mysterious disappearances had been spreading, and he couldn't ignore them. He had already checked the central districts, the market squares, and the taverns, but everything seemed calm. If someone was abducting people, they were clearly not doing it in crowded places.

— Not here either… — Kyron scratched the back of his head, studying his map.

He had spent several days questioning locals about the areas where people had vanished most often. Most of the marked locations had already been crossed out.

— That leaves the slums, — he muttered, heading toward the most dangerous part of the city.

The slums were a separate kingdom of criminals, thieves, and bandits. A place with its own rules and order—an ideal hiding spot for a kidnapper.

The deeper he went, the heavier the atmosphere became. The narrow alleys were damp, the air thick with the scent of alcohol, rotting wood, and mildew. The walls bore the dark stains of old fires, and the few people he saw quickly averted their gazes at the sight of a knight in armor. Fear ruled this place, and asking questions was dangerous.

Kyron slowed his pace when he noticed scattered items on the ground—a torn piece of fabric, a child's toy smeared with dirt, and traces of a struggle leading into a dark alleyway. His heartbeat quickened.

— Something happened here… — he whispered.

A door creaked shut in one of the nearby buildings. Someone was watching. Someone knew.

Kyron stepped closer, but suddenly caught movement in the distance. A figure flickered in the shadows before vanishing down a side passage. He was not alone in this labyrinth of streets.

A woman's scream shattered the silence. The sound made him instinctively tighten his grip on the hilt of his sword. Without hesitation, he ran toward the source of the cry.

Turning a corner, he saw several men surrounding a young woman. Their tattered clothing and confident gestures left no doubt—they were bandits. One of them yanked her by the hair, making her scream in pain.

— Let me go! — her voice broke into a panicked shriek. She struggled, but their grip on her wrists tightened, leaving bruises.

— Calm down, we just want to talk, — one of them sneered, leaning in closer.

They laughed as they shoved her, ripping the coin pouch and jewelry from her hands. The more she screamed, the louder their laughter became.

Kyron noticed doors in the nearby houses crack open slightly. People were watching. People saw. But no one intervened.

— Let her go, — Kyron's voice was a growl, low and filled with threat.

The bandits froze, exchanging glances before one of them smirked.

— Look at this, a hero, — he drawled, lowering his hand toward his dagger. — You must not know how things work around here, knight.

Kyron stepped forward, his grip tightening on his sword.

— I’ll say it one more time. Let. Her. Go.

One of the bandits scoffed.

— You don’t understand where you are, do you? — He whistled, and another figure emerged from the alleyway. But this person was different.

A hood obscured most of his face, but the crimson glow of his eyes betrayed his nature. A dark mage. He lazily traced his fingers through the air, igniting small flames that flickered ominously.

— Curious knights always meet unfortunate ends, — the mage’s voice was calm, yet laced with menace.

— Remember our deal, mage, — the bandit shouted, dragging the girl away. — You help us, we help you. Don’t forget.

Kyron didn’t wait. Drawing his sword, he assumed a battle stance, his eyes locked onto the mage.

— Yes, yes, I remember, — the mage said dismissively, his gaze now fixed on Kyron.

— Let's see how resilient Imperial knights really are, — he added, preparing for battle.

The dark mage wasted no time. Rings of fire erupted around him, and the first explosive blast hurtled toward Kyron. The knight dodged, rapidly closing the distance. He knew—mages were deadly at range but vulnerable up close.

Fiery projectiles exploded around him, melting walls and setting wooden structures ablaze. Kyron slashed through one of them mid-air, but the heat still scorched his armor, making the metal uncomfortably hot against his skin. The smell of burning fabric filled his nostrils—his cloak had started to smolder.

They fought, unaware of how time and place had blurred. At first, it had been seconds. Then minutes. Then hours. Neither was willing to back down. And before they realized it, their battle had moved from the filth of the slums to the heart of the city.

The city descended into chaos. Buildings crumbled, fire consumed wooden structures, and people ran screaming through the streets. Some tried to put out the flames; others collapsed to their knees, covering their heads in terror. Guards were already rushing toward the battle, weapons drawn, shouting orders.

Kyron breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion. Blood trickled down his temple, and his lungs ached from the thick smoke. The pain in his right arm grew sharper, but he couldn't stop.

— Looks like they definitely won’t leave us alone now, — the mage remarked, pausing.

Kyron clenched his teeth. He could already feel the eyes of dozens of people on him—their fear, their judgment.

But the mage didn’t stop. He raised his hand, summoning another fireball. It seemed like it was aimed at Kyron… but then he realized—it wasn’t.

It was aimed at a little girl, too slow to escape the destruction.

Kyron's instincts took over. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the child, positioning himself between her and the attack. He raised his sword and slashed. The world shrank to a single point—a burning mass of fire, surging toward him.

Boom.

Kyron managed to cut through the attack, dispersing the shockwave, but the cost was himself. His body took the brunt of the flames, severe burns searing his flesh. His armor and clothing crumbled under the heat.

— Damn… — Kyron rasped. — I didn’t want to use him…

Kyron was about to summon his partner when, suddenly, the pain in his body began to fade. It was replaced by warmth—gentle, soothing, like sunlight itself. It wrapped around him, sinking into his skin, filling his exhausted body with revitalizing energy.

Kyron’s eyes snapped open.

In front of him stood a girl. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen.

Her blue eyes glowed with golden light, and her small hands rested gently on his cheeks, radiating warmth that seeped into the very core of his being.

She was trembling, her breath unsteady, yet the magic around her flowed in soft waves of light, resembling the roots of a great tree. His wounds were closing, and his strength was returning in a rushing tide.

The screams of panicked citizens, the crashing of buildings, the cries of terror—all faded. For that moment, only they existed.

Kyron blinked, struggling to comprehend what was happening. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

— Who are you?… — he whispered.

Aya lifted her gaze, her lips trembling. But before she could answer, her strength gave out. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed.

Kyron barely caught her in time.