The monster was burning when the first child screamed.

“Burn him!”

The cry rose from the square, followed by thousands of voices.

“Burn him!”

Zorynthia stood above them on the palace balcony, her hands resting against the cold marble railing.

Below, the Night of Remembrance was in full celebration.

Lanterns floated above Aurelia's white-stone streets. Musicians filled the square with drums and trumpets. Children ran between the crowds carrying wooden swords, their faces painted like soldiers.

At the center of it all stood the monster.

Or rather, the straw effigy of one.

Its horns curved toward the sky.

Its mouth was twisted into a permanent snarl.

A priest lifted a torch.

“The beast that nearly destroyed humanity!”

The crowd roared.

“The Monster King!”

“Burn him!”

The torch touched the straw.

Fire raced across its body.

The children cheered.

Zorynthia didn't.

She had watched this ceremony every year of her life.

She had heard the same story.

The Monster King had invaded Aurelia.

He had slaughtered innocent people.

He had tried to conquer humanity.

And brave human kings had driven him beyond the Black Divide.

The story never changed.

But tonight, for some reason, the celebration felt different.

“Your Highness?”

Zorynthia glanced sideways.

Lady Elsera Viremont stood behind her, adjusting the silver clasp of her cloak.

“You're doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking like you'd rather be anywhere else.”

Zorynthia looked back at the burning effigy.

“Perhaps I don't like watching things burn.”

Elsera smiled.

“That's a very diplomatic answer.”

“I'm a princess.”

“Unfortunately.”

Zorynthia laughed softly.

Then her smile faded.

A little boy below was pretending to fight one of the actors dressed as a monster.

“I killed him!” he shouted.

His mother laughed.

Zorynthia watched him.

“Do you ever wonder why we teach children to celebrate someone's death?”

Elsera's smile disappeared.

“You mean the Monster King's death?”

“That's what they say.”

Elsera lowered her voice.

“Zorynthia…”

“I know. I'm not supposed to question it.”

“It's dangerous to question things the entire kingdom agrees upon.”

Zorynthia looked at her.

“Then perhaps the entire kingdom should question them.”

Before Elsera could answer, the palace bells rang.

The crowd erupted.

The final ceremony had begun.

The priest raised both hands.

“Eight hundred years ago, humanity stood at the edge of extinction!”

The crowd listened.

“Then our ancestors defeated the beast beyond the Black Divide!”

Cheers.

“They saved our children!”

More cheers.

“They saved our kingdom!”

Zorynthia stared toward the mountains.

The Black Divide was barely visible beneath the moonlight.

A wall of enchanted darkness stretching across the horizon.

No human crossed it.

No human returned from it.

At least, that was what the histories said.

The priest's voice grew louder.

“And so, tonight, we remember the heroes who protected us from the monsters!”

The crowd shouted the traditional response.

“Never forget!”

Zorynthia whispered,

“Never forget what?”

Elsera heard her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Then the sky cracked open.

A red bolt of lightning tore across the horizon.

The entire square fell silent.

Zorynthia's heart stopped.

Another bolt struck.

Crimson light flooded the clouds above the Black Divide.

Gasps spread through the crowd.

“What is that?”

“Is it the monsters?”

“Look!”

A third bolt exploded across the mountains.

This one shook the palace.

Glass shattered behind Zorynthia.

People screamed.

Horses reared.

Children began crying.

The music stopped.

“Princess!”

Elsera grabbed her arm.

Another tremor struck.

The balcony shifted beneath their feet.

Zorynthia caught the railing.

“What is happening?”

“I don't know!”

Below them, soldiers rushed into the square.

The celebration had become chaos.

Then a messenger came running through the palace gates.

His horse was covered in foam.

He nearly fell when he dismounted.

“Open the way!”

Guards rushed toward him.

“I need the king!”

“What's happened?”

The messenger looked toward the palace.

His face was white.

“The villages.”

“What villages?”

“The ones near the Black Divide.”

He swallowed.

“They're gone.”

---

The throne room filled within minutes.

King Aurevain stood at the center.

General Kaelor Thorne was beside him, still wearing his ceremonial armor.

High Chancellor Vorakis Ravenoir watched from the shadows.

Zorynthia entered with Elsera.

“What happened?” she asked.

The messenger dropped to one knee.

“My king…”

“Speak.”

“The western villages have disappeared.”

Kaelor stepped forward.

“Destroyed?”

“No.”

“Attacked?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

The messenger's voice trembled.

“They're simply gone.”

A terrible silence followed.

“The houses?”

“Gone.”

“The people?”

“Gone.”

“Bodies?”

“None.”

Kaelor's expression hardened.

“Tracks?”

The messenger shook his head.

“Blood?”

“No.”

“Fire?”

“No.”

“Then what did you find?”

The messenger looked up.

“Nothing.”

Zorynthia felt cold.

“Nothing?”

He nodded.

“It was as if the villages never existed.”

Kaelor's hand moved toward his sword.

“The Monster King.”

Whispers spread through the room.

“He's attacking.”

“The barrier is weakening.”

“War…”

Zorynthia looked toward the windows.

The crimson lightning still burned across the horizon.

Something about it didn't feel like an attack.

It felt like a warning.

Then she noticed Vorakis.

The High Chancellor wasn't looking at the messenger.

He was looking at the lightning.

And for one brief moment—

he smiled.

Zorynthia's stomach tightened.

Before she could speak, another tremor shook the palace.

Far beyond Aurelia, on the other side of the Black Divide, the same crimson sky illuminated the ancient kingdom of Drakhar.

Black crystal towers rose above silver forests.

Dragons circled distant obsidian mountains.

And beneath the blood-red clouds, a man stood alone.

King Zaevor Drakhar.

The immortal king watched the barrier tremble.

His face held no triumph.

Only dread.

Behind him, Lord Sevren Duskhar approached.

“My king.”

Zaevor didn't turn.

“How long?”

Sevren looked toward the sky.

“Perhaps days.”

Zaevor's jaw tightened.

“No.”

His ancient eyes remained fixed on the Divide.

“It's already begun.”

The ground trembled beneath them.

Deep beneath the earth, something enormous moved.

Zaevor closed his eyes.

For eight hundred years, his people had waited.

For eight hundred years, the humans had forgotten.

But he had not.

He remembered the covenant.

He remembered what happened the last time the darkness awakened.

And he knew what Aurelia would have to do.

“If they don't remember,” Zaevor whispered,

“the darkness will consume them first.”

Sevren stared at him.

“And if they do?”

Zaevor opened his eyes.

His expression was colder than the night.

“Then they will have to send me their princess.”

The crimson lightning struck again.

And beneath the Black Divide—

something ancient opened its eyes.