It was a starry night and the hour for Samuel’s granddaughter to go to bed. He volunteered to take the little monster to the bed and make sure she would sleep, but that task wouldn’t be easy with a kid full of so much energy.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Said the little girl as the old man covered her with the bed sheets.

“You have to, a bright day full of things to do awaits,” Samuel said as he knelt to the height of his granddaughter.

“But I don’t want to!”

Samuel was conscious of how stubborn the girl could be, a characteristic showed by many kids, and trying to reason with her was doomed to fail. Fortunately, he knew how to make her fall asleep.

“Do you want to hear a story?” he said, igniting a spark of infantile curiosity in the innocent brown eyes of the girl.

“Yes!” she said, overflowing with joy at the opportunity of listening to one of his grandfathers’ numerous tales, “But I want to hear a new one”

Samuel sat down on a nearby chair and began to play with is sailor cap as he searched in his mental library for an adequate story amongst the thousands he had collected in his travels around the world. Maybe he could tell her the story the story of the Red Traveller, or Zorok and the Sea Serpents’ treasure. No, he felt in the mood for one of the greatest legends he had ever heard about.

“Do you want to know how the world was born?”

The child looked at her grandfather slightly confused and intrigued about what she had just heard.

“How the world was born?”

“Yes, have you never wondered how everything you see came to be?” Spoke Samuel has he sat alongside his granddaughter on the border of the bed, “There weren’t trees, flowers, buildings or even life a very long time ago.

“Tell me,” said the kid with her eyes fixated on her grandfather.

A long time ago, very far away from our world, a star ten times bigger than our sun exploded, liberating a massive amount of heat of unimaginable temperature. From that explosion, something came into existence, Kiala, the Four-Armed Beast, a proud queen that hold the power of the celestial body that gave her birth. She flew across her territory above the planets with flames emerging from her metal body, invincible and magnificent.

“Wasn’t this a story about how the world was born?” asked the young girl has she interrupted the narration.

“We’re getting to that part now,” answered the old man calmly.

One day, Kiala stood defeated, with her body shattered and drifting aimlessly through her kingdom, until fragments of her body landed on our young world, clashing violently on the ground, creating mountains and what would become the seas. Her body and undying flame gave the first life the nourishment it needed, and with time it started to lose its previous glory and was buried under the ground, but her roar still remained, filling her new home in search of something that could hear and wield it. Many thousands of years passed, and the animals roamed the land, followed afterward by humans many more years later.

Our ancestors heard the primal roar and invented music trying to imitate it, using it to express themselves and creating art. As we evolved and created civilizations, music improved, and we began to use a portion of Kiala’s power to create what those that preceded them could only dream. In time we created rock and metal, satisfying Kiala’s roar and being able to wield it, thus marking the beginning of the Power of Rock.

With humanity also came the gods, born from mankind’s collective thoughts, and Megaster, the God of Metal, took the imprint the creature had left on our world and took it to his realm, The Molten Plane, where the Spirit of Kiala could rest.

But there’s more since the remains of the Four-Armed Beast that didn’t land on our planet found their home in another, from where demons originate. Both worlds began connected and shared the same abilities, marking the origin of a relationship that would spawn a thousand more stories that ranged from conflict to love.

“Tell me another one, Grandpa,” said Samuel’s granddaughter, wanting to learn more from his wisdom.

“Aren’t you tired?” asked the man, slightly surprised by the child’s obstinacy.

“I’m grown up, I can take more stories!” said the girl with an excitement that wanted to fend off the fatigue that was taking her, something her grandfather could see past through.

“If you insist…” Samuel spoke, knowing that the little monster wouldn’t resist much longer, “Have you heard the legend of Belzerax?”

“The one that wanted to steal poppies?” asked the child, remembering a teacher she had telling it to her whole kindergarten class and starting to lose interest.

“That’s just a made up fairy tale. I’m going to tell you the real story, one that actually happened”

Legends tell that, a long time ago, in a meadow of red flowers, the demon Belzerax arose from the hells to bring the Ragnarock to the world, the ultimate battle that would bring the end of civilization as we know it or its salvation. The demon’s body was an amalgamation of animal features, with the legs of a goat, a man’s torso, a bat-like head and wings, slanted amber eyes that sparked with ambition, a forked tongue and long nails in his right hand, all accompanied by his red skin and black fur, alongside four great and curved horns on his forehead, which he always took care of. He always wore a pendant with the instruments of those he had defeated, shrunk with his abilities, as prizes and to show his strength to whoever opposed him. He was armed with a great power gained thanks to his passion for rock, but it transformed in an endless greed and desire for adoration, considering himself above others with is incredible acts as a justification that his followers didn’t question... Nevertheless, four heroes that called themselves Broken Skies faced the terrible menace

“What do you want from this place?” they asked him.

“To satiate an insatiable thirst and write my name in eternity,” claimed the beast as he summoned his guitar, Magnus, a visual testament of his dreams of greatness.

The Four engaged in a dreadful battle against the beast, using the power created with their music against Belzerax, but he was mighty in his art, and strummed his guitar’s strings with his burning pick, unfolding a wave of fire and ice against Broken Skies. The four men deflected the attack with their sound and the sky roared and the ground trembled and rose. The duel developed for hours without a clear victor, with both sides tired but still fighting with ferocity.

When the night fell, the light of lightning illuminated them and a strong wind shook the area with fury, with the adversaries standing on pillars of ground, and in desperate attempt to defeat Belzerax before he could win, the bassist jumped in his direction while the rock of his bandmates created new pillars under his feet. Armed with the power of the whole band, their fans and everyone that supported them, he hit the demon in the head, throwing him from where he was standing and breaking one of his horns. Taking advantage of the state of the weakened Belzerax, The Four used their remaining forces to expel him from our world, making silver chains that bound him and that the very ground that held him devour him.

“What does bound mean?” interrupted the little girl as her eyes fell more and more under the unbeatable effect of fatigue.

“To imprison him,” said Samuel as he corrected himself to explain the new word to her vocabulary.

After the arduous confrontation, the skies cleared and the heroes descended from where they were to receive ovations, applause and some pieces of underwear.

It is told that The Four took the demon’s broken horn and made a pick, guitar strings, a pair of drumsticks and a pendant that contained a portion of the creature’s power.

The years passed, and in their death bed, all the members of Broken Skies were taken to Valhalla by the valkyries, of faces painted in black and white, and greeted by the very Gods of Rock and Metal, who were astonished by the amazing feat.

Nonetheless, Belzerax resists his imprisonment, menacing everyone, with his ambition and desire for revenge growing each day. Many believe that he will return and venerate him as a god, searching for the remains of his power that stayed after his banishment. If he escapes and retrieves his power, the Ragnarock will begin.

“I don’t want him to return,” said Samuel’s granddaughter scared of the creature.

“Don’t worry girl, he’ll have to get past me even if he wants to touch you a single hair,” assured Samuel as the girl laid her head on the pillow, finally defeated and bringing a smile to his grandfather’s face.

“Goodnight Mercuria,” Spoke Samuel as he turned off the lights and went out of the room, looking back before closing the door.