Chapter 1 — **Prologue**

Over 30,000 years ago

*Ulric Daivat, King of Valmyrien*

The Moons of the Divine, aligning only once every ten thousand years, cast an ethereal glow over the battlefield, drenched in the blood of our fallen. Their rare conjunction amplified the magic of this night, yet it only deepened our despair, for no spell of ours could turn the tide. Screams of anguish and the relentless clash of steel against steel pierced the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and filth that seared my nostrils. On this fourth day of unending battle, our once-vast numbers dwindled. Most of our mightiest warriors lay dead under the most potent magical night known to our realm.

My High Fae ears throbbed with the final gasps of my kin. I did not know how we could recover, how we could end this war. Dragging bloodied hands across my face in frustration, I ground my teeth until pain flared in my jaw. No matter our ferocity, our enemy refused to perish. A comrade’s cry—young Elarion, who had sworn to fight beside me till his last—cut through the chaos as he fell, his silver blade clattering uselessly. That sound, more than any wound, drove a spike through my resolve.

A presence loomed at my side. With phantom hands woven of my fading magic, I snapped the attacker’s neck before it neared. Rolling my shoulders, I gazed at the fallen—not a soldier, but a creature. Its rotted spine jutted from torn flesh, yet its clawed hands twitched, reaching to realign its head. With a swift strike, I severed its limbs, only to watch them writhe and begin to reform with unnatural speed. Even fae healing, swift for minor wounds but futile against mortal blows to heart or head, paled before this abomination. These *things* could not die.

By the Divine’s wrath, I had to act. My soldiers perished in a slaughter, not a battle. Sheathing my sword, I turned toward the Sanctum of Aurelthas, shrine to our King of Gods. A hand seized my forearm, and instinct drove me to snap the limb in two before recognizing the anguished wail. My eyes met those of Renfred, my Commander and brother in all but blood, his face contorted with pain and fury, blood staining his elongated canines.

“Ulric! Are you forsaking us? You’re our King!” he roared.

“I forsake no one! We’re being butchered, and I seek the only path left to save us!” I bellowed in return. “Stand aside, Renfred, and let me end this nightmare.”

As I sprinted onward through the field of death, I cast back a burdened plea, “Forgive me, brother, I must do this!” His wail lingered, a sharper wound than any blade, stirring memories of oaths sworn under starlit skies. Yet there was no time for remorse.

Creature after vile creature barred my path to the temple. I thrust out my waning magic, savoring the crack of their decrepit bones, though it barely slowed them. My legs burned, boots pounding crimson dirt as the cries of my people saturated the air. My magic flickered, a mere spark against their grasping claws, while the moons waned above. The undead rose anew, black eyes boring into my soul, their snarls chilling my blood. With a final surge of power, I repelled their advance and staggered toward the Sanctum.

The Temple of the Divine emerged, its white marble stairs flanked by lit torches ascending to a glass dome with a gaping hole at its center. Ancient carvings of fae and divine pacts adorned the pillars, whispering of a time when Gods walked among us—a history I now sought to invoke. I climbed the steps, entering the sacred space, and followed the path to the dome’s heart where the night sky pierced through.

Battle still raged in the distance as I drew my emerald-hilted dagger, knelt on the cold stone, and offered the last act I could muster. Slicing my palm, I watched crimson drops fall as I prayed, “I call upon Haco, King of Gods. I offer this blood in devotion. Hear my cry.”

A drop struck stone.

“I call upon Reombarth, offering this blood in devotion. Hear my cry.”

Another drop.

I invoked all nine Gods, each with unique dominion, pledging my blood as payment. As I fought with steel no longer, I begged with blood, surrendering mortal pride for divine aid.

A faint hum stirred the air, then torches flared to life with Haco’s fire, encircling me in light. I sprang up, dagger poised for any intrusion. The ground quaked, stone fissuring beneath me as Ragnar answered. Haco’s flames surged, thunder rolled from Evander, and a blinding light—Samael’s might—seared my vision. Nine lightning strikes formed a perfect ring, heralding all Gods’ presence.

The tumult ceased. A fleeting vision of a green, flower-laden meadow eased my racing heart, the scent of fresh air a balm—Bomris’ illusion, no doubt, to steady me. Dust and smoke choked the air, my ears ringing from Reombarth’s force, though the ground held. Aither’s chilling wind swept debris aside as Kano’s gentle rain pattered through the dome, washing my sins. Then Eirwen’s power turned rain to ice, pricking my skin with frigid barbs.

A voice like rolling thunder pierced the haze, “Who dares summon us all, mere mortal?”

I dropped to my knees, head bowed, palms up in submission. “I am King Ulric Daivat of Valmyrien, and I seek the aid of our great Gods against the darkness consuming our realm.”

The smoke parted, and my breath caught. Before me stood glory, beauty, and terror. Black iridescent scales shimmered under the double moons, cloaking a dragon’s immense form with leather wings. Amber gazes with slitted pupils pulsed with power, long white fangs gleaming like death in moonlight, sending dread down my spine.

“Ah, yes. And what aid do you seek, mighty King Ulric?” Haco, King of Gods, spoke.

“Whatever you may grant, my King. I will pay any price to save my country, my people,” I vowed, struggling to meet his draconic stare.

Haco’s gaze swept the circle of Gods, a silent question passing among them. Their consensus weighed heavier than the moons above as they nodded. His amber eyes locked on mine once more. “Any price, you say? Then hear my bargain, mortal King.”

Hope flared in my emerald gaze as I affirmed, “Anything to shield my realm and kin.”

Haco’s feral smile bared fangs. “We, the Divine, are bound to our realm, walking this earth only when summoned, shackled to your temples. We wield no true power here, granting only blessings. We crave what all beings desire—to live, to be free.”

I tilted my head, seeking clarity in his words.

“Bind yourself to us,” he continued. “Swear a blood oath, an exchange of power. Once bound, we become corporeal in your world, no longer mere spectators. Surely you know of such oaths, the mingling of essence between beings?”

“I know of them, Your Holiness. A brief vow, blood joined, power shared. But my kind shuns dark magic, warned of its cost—draining life itself. Will this oath be safe?” I questioned, dread of betraying my fae heritage gnawing at me. What if this act severed me from all I was?

“This oath is blood magic, demanding a toll, yet our immortality shields you from such drain. The creatures you face stem from a darkness deeper than this rite.” An image of a corpse rising, unyielding in battle, haunted my mind. “They can only fall to a power beyond your realm, a power we alone wield. Never before have we offered this to a mortal. Decide swiftly, lest we withdraw and your people perish,” Haco urged, though his glance to the others hinted at bluff. They needed me as I needed them, yet he would not confess it to a mere High Fae.

I bit back a retort, my pride as High Fae—not human—stirred by his dismissal. Their golden gazes seared my skin. They were my only path.

“Time wanes, mortal King,” Haco pressed as the moons above merged into a singular force.

My palms sweated under the choice’s weight. Bind myself to these nine forever, or watch my loved ones and the Kingdom of Valmyrien—sworn to my protection—fall. I recalled my coronation oath, vowing to defend and shield my people, never ceasing the fight for their freedom. These Gods claimed they could halt the slaughter across Theralis.

I paused, breath heavy, the cries of my kingdom echoing in my mind. Could I forsake my lineage, my very name, for this? Yet there was no other way. “I’ll do it,” I declared, meeting Haco’s gaze with iron resolve.

“Offer your blade, Sir Ulric,” Haco commanded, teeth glinting in a vicious grin.

His black claws seized my dagger, slicing his scaly palm. Golden blood flowed into a gem-encrusted chalice conjured from the ether. Each God followed, adding their essence, until the chalice faced me, dagger returned.

“Cut your right palm and let your blood join ours,” Haco instructed.

The blade bit cold, pain a fleeting sting as my crimson mingled with their gold. I glanced at Haco for guidance as he extended a taloned arm.

“Do as I do, speak as I speak,” he intoned, fire in his gaze. “From blood to blood, from ashes to ashes, from dawn to dusk, until light and darkness fade, I, Haco, King of Gods, bind and give myself to King Ulric Daivat of Valmyrien.” He dipped his reptilian tongue into the chalice, passing it on. The others echoed the binding in a chorus of eternity, their voices resonating through time, until the cup reached me.

I inhaled deeply. “From blood to blood, from ashes to ashes, from dawn to dusk, until light and darkness fade, I, Ulric Daivat, King of Valmyrien, bind and give myself to Haco, Reombarth, Samael, Aither, Kano, Bomris, Eirwen, Ragnar, and Evander, the Nine Gods of the Divine.” I drank, the golden liquid scorching like molten iron on my tongue, sealing my fate.

“You shall shed the name Ulric Daivat and ascend as a new being of the Divine. Henceforth, you are Choryrth, High Fae King with dragon blood, wielder of power to crush any threat. On this night of the Moons of the Divine, we are the Great Divine of *Ten*,” Haco proclaimed as lightning shattered the remaining glass dome.

The temple quaked, walls crumbling, the dome fracturing to reveal the intertwined moons among stars. The Gods encircled me, talons outstretched in moonlight, their powers fusing as debris rained down. Agony seared up my spine; I collapsed, a hollow cry escaping. Pain consumed me—arms, legs, mind—everywhere. Fire coursed through my veins, bones breaking and reforming into something vast. My kingdom’s cries echoed as darkness claimed me, a final thought of their faces anchoring my sacrifice.

I awoke amid ruins, Gods watching as I stirred. My senses sharpened; I heard distant clashes, Renfred’s barked commands piercing the miles. Pushing to stand, I saw not hands but claws, my body now clad in green iridescent scales and leather. My gaze met Haco’s, no longer from below but as an equal.

Power pulsed within, a scorching blaze in my blood. I reveled in it, stretching my new form on jagged earth. The ground crumbled under my talons as I unleashed a torrent of deadly fire into the night, matched by Haco’s own. Reombarth’s chuckle rumbled at the display.

“Let us slay those cursed abominations,” I growled through razor-sharp fangs.

The Gods nodded, bloodthirsty fervor on their draconic visages. As we took to the skies to reclaim our realm, a distant roar of unleashed destruction echoed from the battlefield below, heralding the tide’s turn.