Demon warhorns blared loudly, heralding a time that could only be described as nightmarish. It was the first time that demons had organised themselves into an army and actively made use of the connection between the Abyss and Dargon. There had been signs, but all the preparation in the world did nothing to calm the cold chill that gripped Reyneld Bladesworn's heart as he beheld the full might of the demons.

  Will I—we be able to stop them? Reyneld thought.

  Together with his fellow guardians, Reyneld had led Dragon into a peaceful and prosperous era. He regretted ever lamenting the lack of activity across the kingdoms, wondering if this was some sort of divine retribution.

  He had no time to dwell on his thoughts, however, because the demon armies had begun to advance. Reyneld scrambled down from the wall that surrounded Esover—the city they had chosen to take a stand against the demons.

  Thankfully Anhua happened to have few cities, so the demons had not done too much damage. But Anhua was the kingdom that Reyneld was bound to protect, and he silently mourned the many inhabitants he knew would die regardless of the outcome of the battle.

  Reyneld donned his armour and marched to the front lines of the united army. Humans, elves, dwarves and dragons marched together to end the threat that drew them all together—even the elusive green-cloaked druids were seen flitting among the ranks, healing and supporting with their earthy magic.

  Near Esover’s gate stood the other guardians and Reyneld hastened his strides to join them. He greeted them with a nod and Leiea gave him a small wave.

  “Finally decided to join us?” Jaron teased with a cheeky grin.

  Reyneld shook his head with a small smile, glad that they had been the ones chosen. He could not imagine a different group.

  “Alexei, you’re ready with the key, right?” Reyneld asked, turning to the brown-haired youth, who held a small circular case in his hands. Alexei nodded and held up the case.

  “With a strong enough burst of power, we can seal the demons away,” Alexei answered.

  “Excellent,” Farnic rumbled, “Then we are all set to go?”

  “Well, those damned demons aren’t waiting for us,” Jaron quipped, unsheathing his sword and lowering the visor of his helmet.

  <--<< >>-->

  Individual demons were no match for a guardian, but a seemingly endless supply of demons was bound to wear them out, regardless of how powerful they were. Reyneld fought off another demon, trying to ignore the doubt beginning to take root as two more filled the place of the one he felled.

  A surge of panic rose up within him and Reyneld swiftly disengaged the demon he fought, manipulating the wind to throw back all the demons around him, and frantically scanned the battlefield for the figure he knew was struggling. Alexei was getting swamped by the demons, the black plume on his helmet waving erratically as he flailed around trying to dislodge the demons.

  Reyneld leapt over the demons with a strong burst of wind at his feet and dashed over to Alexei, slashing at the demons that had swarmed him. All the while, the burning feeling in his chest refused to disappear, only increasing in ferocity and lending more fervor to Reyneld’s increasingly desperate attacks.

  Alexei was dying.

  “No… no, no, no…” Reyneld muttered under his breath as he tossed demons back and got to the blood-covered Alexei. The demons’ claws had torn through his armour and his flesh and his helmet was torn to ribbons. Quickly, Reyneld scooped him up and threw himself up into the air and towards Esover. He landed on the city wall and laid Alexei against the wall, removing the broken pieces of his helmet, sticky with his blood.

  One glance told him all that he needed to know. It was too late—Alexei’s wounds were fatal.

  “What happened, Alexei?!” Reyneld cried, his shaky hands gripping Alexei’s shoulders.

  Alexei looked up, his green-tinted hazel eyes glassy and unfocused.

  His face was contorted in a grimace and he drew in a rattling breath before saying quietly, “It was supposed to work, Reyneld. The key… there was no power… nothing!”

  It was like the floor disappeared from underneath him and he was falling through an endless abyss.

  “W-What?” Reyneld choked out.

  “I’m sorry, Rey… I-I’m so sorry,” Alexei whispered, moving his arm with laboured breaths to draw out the cylinder the key was contained in.

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  His mind in turmoil, Reyneld took the container and emptied the key into his hand. It looked like the key of legends, but Reyneld felt nothing from it. It could have been an ordinary kitchen cabinet key for all he knew.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he forced out the question anyways, “Has it… always been like this?”

  Alexei answered, “I-I thought it would… awaken when I needed it the most.”

  Reyneld shut his eyes and tried to keep his composure as he whispered softly, “Oh, Alexei, you foolish boy! You should have told us! We could have done something together!”

  “It hurts, Rey,” Alexei muttered, his shaky hand gripping Reyneld’s arm with no strength.

  “I know… it’ll all stop soon… just hang on a little longer, Alexei,” Reyneld whispered, carefully brushing back Alexei’s matted brown curls as he kept his emotions in check.

  As the keyguard, Alexei Throeyns, drew his last breath, Reyneld gripped the key tighter in his hand and made a decision. To do nothing would spell their doom and the destruction of Dargon. To do something would probably cost him his life, though Dargon might be saved.

  My kingdom is gone. My people are dead. I have nothing more!

  If both instances would have me dead, I’ll take all the demons with me!

  Reyneld gently shut Alexei’s unseeing eyes, muttered a quick prayer and met the eyes of Alexei’s spirit with determination.

  “I’ll save Dargon, Alexei, don’t worry,” He said.

  He stood up and clenched the key tightly in his fist, drawing his focus inwards. He tuned out the sounds of fighting and screams and the warm winds caressing his face and ruffling his hair and withdrew deep within himself. Tapping into his guardian powers, he channelled them into the key, hoping desperately for some effect.

  A moment passed, then he felt the smallest glimmer of something from within the key and his power began to siphon off him and into the key. At first he felt relief, then a growing panic as the key continued to suck away his power with no signs of stopping.

  Reyneld staggered slightly, but kept his grip on the key, struggling to maintain consciousness as a throbbing headache replaced the lost power. The key was warm in his hands and as it took the remainder of his power, Reyneld felt all of it coalesced in the key and he knew what he had to do. He took hold of the power and sent it outwards in a wave that bathed the entirety of Anhua in a cold, white glow.

  When Reyneld opened his eyes, he saw the battlefield littered with corpses and the whole place was covered in a fine mist of demon ashes. The large portals that had connected Dargon to the Abyss were nowhere to be seen.

  I… I did it, Reyneld thought, feeling a rush of relief, then his legs buckled and he knew nothing more.

  <--<< >>-->

  “You’re the only one left, you know.”

  Garyth Herus came to visit Reyneld on the day he regained consciousness and brought the devastating news.

  Reyneld was at a loss for words.

  Garyth strode over to Reyneld’s bedside and pulled out two cups and a flask of hard dwarven liquor, pouring a generous serving in both cups.

  “A toast to survival,” Garyth said dryly, handing one cup to Reyneld and grabbing the second for himself.

  Reyneld stared at the cup blankly for a second, then downed it in one gulp, relishing the burning in this throat.

  Garyth blinked, then chuckled, “I guess you needed that, huh?”

  “Pass the bottle,” Reyneld said hoarsely, pointing to the bottle on the bedside table.

  Garyth raised an eyebrow, but handed it over wordlessly.

  Reyneld took a deep sip, swallowed, then mustered up the courage to ask, “Am I… really the only one who survived? Arilea, Farnic, Jaron… Leiea… not a single one lived?”

  “Well, the corpses were a little mangled, but they think they’ve found Arilea Hamaia’s body, Leiea Ravenstorm and Farnic Thorvik. And you know about Alexei Throeyns, I expect? Jaron Aegivyl’s body remains to be found, but it’s unlikely that he survived, given the circumstances.”

  Reyneld cursed under his breath.

  “Why did Alexei Throeyns die, Reyneld?” Garyth asked suddenly, his blue-gold eyes sharp.

  Reyneld hesitated, but then revealed, “The key has no power, Garyth. This has to stay a secret, of course. Alexei, that stupid kid, knew all along and didn’t tell us because he thought he could awaken it on the battlefield.”

  Alexei was the youngest among us—barely more than a kid, really. He didn’t deserve to die so early. He should have lived. It should have been him here, not me…

  Garyth was strangely quiet after that revelation, then he muttered under his breath, “Hmm… that was probably my fault…”

  “W-What did you say?” Reyneld asked, feeling a chill run through him.

  Garyth looked up, sheepishly then said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Oh well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter if you heard me… that drink should kick in pretty soon anyways. I said that the key having no power is probably my fault—I’m not completely sure, but it’s a suspicion.”

  Reyneld struggled to sit up, feeling an even greater chill in his body now.

  “You poisoned me?!” He gasped in disbelief.

  “Oh no, not poison,” Garyth chuckled, “But for the record, what happened with the key was most regrettable and I do apologise for that.”

  Reyneld felt the chill spreading through him, then all of a sudden he was weightless and… translucent.

  Am I… dead? Reyneld thought, staring through his own hands.

  I’m definitely a spirit… but I’m sure I would have felt something…

  As he watched, Garyth approached his body and Reyneld felt an immense panic fill him. He knew instinctively that if Garyth killed his body, there was no going back. But he could do nothing but watch as Garyth mercilessly cut off the air circulation of his body. Reyneld was helpless to do anything but watch as his body was deprived of air and the skin turned bluish and finally his tether to the overworld was severed.

  As soon as his body died, Reyneld was pulled through the floor and down and down into a strange place wedged between the living world and the dead—where the sky was eternally cloudy and there was golden wheat in every direction as far as the eye could see.