The Treaty of the Kinds suffered its first breach at the hands of the unknowns, who infiltrated the capital city of the Deitus Empire, Baeynore, under the veil of night.

    The Oldunal Order had yet to discover the methods by which the unknowns eluded the watchful gaze of the Divine Light that safeguarded the city. However, this breach did not mark the beginning of the war. The war's ignition lay in the abduction of the Imperial Crown Consort, Bishop Luxton, an act committed right under the vigilant eyes of the First Division of Imperial Knights.

    In the morning following his disappearance, the palace cleared out all servants, butlers, and in-house knights alike; all of whom faced severe punishment. They could not escape the wrath of their emperor, seeing their failure to protect their master as unforgivable.

    Certain signs of a fierce struggle were evident; it seemed that His Highness had indeed resisted but ultimately succumbed to a force of greater strength.

     Nearly seven months passed before the Imperial family uncovered the mystery behind the kidnapping, and almost a week to conclude the siege of the Kalamor continent, where the unknowns appeared to have made their command. However, Bishop's whereabouts remained shrouded in mystery. It was only when Her Highness, the Imperial Crown Princess Teresa Serai Deitus, personally spearheaded the second siege, that they found a hint of his Divine.

    He was not merely present on the Kalamor continent; he lay beneath its very surface. Yet, she was too late...

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    Somewhere in the Kalamor Continent, near the land of the Daemon, lay a dome. This grand structure, painstakingly crafted over ten years, stood devoid of life. Concealed beneath layers of intricate and arcane magik, it was a hollow sanctuary stretching endlessly into nothing.

    Nothing—except for a man, robbed of sight, sound, and strength, barely clinging to life beneath the weight of his chains. Bound within the center of a magikal circle that powered the dome, he endured the draining of his divine essence for seven long months, his resilience waning with each passing day.

    The shackles, welded from unholy metal, seared into his flesh like molten iron. The agony of their hold sent shockwaves of pain through his body, halting any chance of healing. Every minute motion created spasm, while the hours of kneeling left his muscles strained and trembling.

    Sustaining his Divine of Light for such an extended duration was a feat rarely witnessed. A testament to his extraordinary nature.

    Or so they claimed.

    Bishop named them the unknown, for they cloaked themselves in thick hoods and capes, obscuring their identities. Despite his attempts, even when he had his sight and unleashed his Divine at its brightest, he could not make their features. Perhaps it was the dome. Perhaps it was themselves. He never knew. But at some point, he gave up trying to figure out which of the Kinds they were. And after they succeeded in gouging his eyes out, he forlorn the desire completely. How would it help him at all?

    I want to sleep.

    The thought was loud and intrusive, however, insomnia remained his friend. Bishop knew he had to be alert, but somewhere deep inside him, he was reaching his limits. He simply hoped that someone would catch even just a residue of him lingering in the atmosphere. Gods know how much he exerted his divine into the air.

    Suddenly, a metallic taste filled his mouth.

    Blood.

    Bishop could not tell if it was coming from the internal bleeding or from biting his cheeks to stay awake. Either way, the taste caused him to gag. It was too strong. It scratched his throat as he swallowed it and caused a violent tremble against his will. So, he completely stopped healing after all.

    Is this my end?

    Suddenly, as his mortality loomed over him, he thought of the gods again. Ohr, the Primordial of Light, his patron deity. Were they watching right now? Were they aware of the happenings—the suffering—of their devout follower? Or was this seen as a martyr in their name?

    I am useless...no, she will find me.

    At this point, as his faith failed him, he kept his hope alive for his lone beacon amidst the darkness.

    Bishop gulped in a breath and straightened his back. Though they were meant to be cold, the unholy metal now simmered against his skin, a painful reminder of his captivity. Yet through the pain, he sat up straight. He was just so tired. And the anguish was becoming too much for him to bear. But he needed to hold on.

    For her.

    Gathering the strength alone to hold himself up was difficult. It took everything in him, right down to his very being. He could feel his own body eat away at every fat and muscle it could find to protect the flesh of his brain. Soon, it would start eating his vital organs. And then his heart. The stages of starvation. The signs that his Divine was devouring his soul.

    She will come.

    Bishop decided to open his mouth, begging. An unknown approached him as if out of thin air and poured a warm liquid down his throat. Immediately, a bitterness soured his tongue and he spat it out. Vinegar. He was so thirsty, and yet all they gave him was vinegar.

    He felt close to tears if he could cry any. He just wanted relief.

    Bishop's heart beat against his caving chest. He mumbled incoherently, the agony finally piercing through his mental defenses.

    She always finds me.

    The muscle spasms and cramps began again, and this time, Bishop could not fight against the need to rest. He felt so sorry. He wanted to apologize for his weakness. To anyone. To her. But he could not hold on. No matter how hard he tried, he just could not hold on.

    It's...time.

    Bishop felt the flicker of his Light dimming as the dome shook...

    The dome...

    ...it shook...

    He was sure of it. He felt it. The dome vibrated around him.

    Then suddenly, many hands grabbed his sides, digging something hard—claws—sharp enough to enter easily into his ribcage. Bishop cried out. The unknowns were attempting to forcibly remove him from the magik restraints. But then, the claws let go... no, they were ripped away, and the sheer force of it caused him to stumble.

    She is coming.

    Bishop sought to move forward, guided by the vibrations, but then a new revelation struck him—there was no ground beneath his feet. The magik circle had been suspended in the air all along.

    The chain pulled against his wrist, and for a split second he thought they would hold him up, but they did not. They briefly teased resistance before relinquishing their hold on him entirely. Gravity seized him, pulling him into the abyss.

    Bishop fell.

    She's here. 

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A/N: Hello guys! This is my first book on Tapas, though I have technically published it before, I just kept yo-yoing between 'should I keep it up or take it down'.

But now, I've fought and defeated the procrastination demons, and I'm taking a chance.

You can also find my book on Wattpad and Royal Roads.

Thank you so much for reading my book. Please let me know what you think in the comments!