Permeus tore through the night, his body battered but his spirit unyielding. Blood streaked down his armor, a mixture of his own and that of the creatures he’d slain on his desperate journey back to the castle. Every step sent pain shooting through his limbs, yet he pushed forward, driven by a singular purpose.

  I have to save my family

  The once-pristine streets of Titania now lay in ruins, immortal flame consuming buildings that had stood for all time. In the distance, screams of terror pierced the night as titans—his beloved creations—fell to the darkness.

  Permeus cut down three more feral titans that lunged at him from an alley, their faces twisted in unnatural rage, black venom dripping from their fangs. He didn’t watch them fall, instead keeping his mind solely focused on the castle where his family now sat in refuge.

  When he finally reached the castle gates, seven of the guards he had stationed at the gates tensed at his approach, relaxing only when they recognized their king beneath the grime and blood.

  “Your Majesty,” one gasped, “What happened?”

  Permeus didn’t slow.

  “Secure the perimeter. Let no one through. Get every guard here at the gates now,” he commanded. “The two of you follow me.”

  He pushed past them, taking the grand staircase three steps at a time until he reached his children’s chambers. Inside, he found Imara seated on the bed, arms wrapped protectively around their daughters, their small bodies pressed against her as she whispered soothing words. At the sound of the door, she looked up, her eyes widening at his appearance.

  “Permeus!” She rose quickly, the girls clinging to her skirts. “What’s happened?”

  He crossed to them in three long strides, pulling them all into a tight embrace. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of their bodies against his, to breathe in their familiar scent. Then he pulled back, his expression grave.

  “We need to leave,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Now.”

  Imara searched his face, fear creeping into her eyes.

  “Permeus, you’re injured. You never get injured. You can’t get injured.”

  “Get to the point,Ima.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “There’s no time.” He turned to the two guards who had followed him into the room. “Stand watch at the door. No one and nothing enters.”

  The guards bowed and took their positions outside the chamber. Permeus knelt before his daughters, forcing a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “My little ones,” he said as softly as he could.

  The only desire in Permeus’s mind was to get his family safe, but the only thought running through it was the nightmare he had heard the other day. He feared he might have to deal with it now, but that did not mean he was not ready to fight it.

  “Remember our trip to the harvest?” Permeus asked them with a nervous smile.

  “Yes Papa,” the twins said in unison

  “We’re going on a journey like that tonight,” Permeus said, cupping both of their hands in his.

  “Journey where?” Amara asked.

  “To Naian.” Permeus answered

  “With Aunt Naia?” Kara asked

  “Yes, her lands are as far from here as possible, so they are probably safe,” Permeus explained

  “Safe from what?” Imara asked, but her query fell on deaf ears

  “But we must be silent and move quickly. Can you do that for your father?” Permeus asked with a hint of desperation in his voice and eyes.

  The twins nodded solemnly, their eyes large with unspoken questions. Permeus hoped he had not scared them too much, but he knew they were perceptive children; they could sense the tension in the air. He only hoped that they would not fear it as much as he did right now.

  “Permeus,” Imara’s voice was low and urgent. “:At least tell me what we’re running from.”

  He stood, taking her hands in his. “Something malevolent has destroyed our city, and I think he hopes to spread it to the world.”

  His grip tightened as he said every word. Once he saw her wince, he had to release for fear of hurting her.

  “He is called Operas. He claims to be the Origin of the Chasm.”

  “He is one of your siblings?” Imara asked, confused.

  “Actually, he claims to be my... father.”

  Imara’s brow furrowed in confusion. “That’s impossible. The Origins have no creator beyond yourselves.”

  “So it was believed.” Permeus’ jaw clenched. “But he killed Germaine, Imara. And his darkness... it brings the dead back as his servants.”

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  He could see the horror beginning to dawn in her eyes.

  “Ima, we must go now.”

  She nodded quickly, gathering the children’s cloaks.

  “Are you sure we will be safe in Naian?”

  Permeus hesitated, but not to think of their location; he was sure enough of that. There was something he needed first—the shards. If Operas truly was their creator, his theory was right and those shards could help him decipher how to defeat him.

  “My study. There’s something I must retrieve.”

  “That is not the question I asked Permeus.”

  “Just trust me.”

  Leading his family through the castle corridors, with the two guards at their heels, Permeus kept them close, constantly scanning for threats. The castle was eerily quiet, most of the guards having been called to defend the city. Most of them, if not all, are dead right now.

  When they reached his study, he pushed open the heavy oak door and immediately crossed to his desk.

  “What are you looking for in a time like this?” Imara asked, her eyes darting nervously to the windows where the glow of fire illuminated the night sky.

  Permeus didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed his palm against a hidden panel in the wall behind his desk. It slid open, revealing a small compartment. From within, he withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle that glowed faintly through the fabric.

  “The shards,” Imara whispered in recognition.

  Permeus nodded, carefully tucking the bundle inside his tunic. The light pulsed against his chest, warm and reassuring.

  “I know it’s crazy,” he said. “But they may help us stand a chance.”

  A distant explosion rocked the castle foundations. The children whimpered, clinging tighter to their mother.

  “We need to go. Now.” Permeus led them from the study, moving with renewed urgency.

  Rather than heading toward the main gates where they would be exposed, he guided them through lesser-known passages toward the stables beneath the castle. Once at the doors, he instructed the guards to stand watch before he and his family entered.

  The stables were dimly lit, the scent of hay and horse sharp in the air. Most of the animals were restless, sensing the danger outside. Permeus moved to the far corner where his personal chariot was kept—a magnificent conveyance of gold and white marble, pulled by four stallions bred from the essence of immortal flame itself. The horses snorted nervously as they approached.

  “Permeus,” Imara said, her voice strained with fear, “should we not wait for your siblings? Surely together you would stand a better chance against this threat.”

  Permeus shook his head as he prepared the chariot, securing the horses.

  “I’ll inform them later.” He said as he placed his hand in hers. “My priority is to get you and the little ones to safety.”

  Once the chariot was ready, he helped Imara and the twins aboard, ensuring they were secure. The girls clung to their mother, their faces pale with fear but remarkably composed. In that moment, Permeus felt a surge of pride cutting through his dread.

  Before he could join them, a sound at the entrance to the stables caught his attention. It sounded like a fight, and it did not sound like his guards were winning. He turned, hand instinctively moving to the sword at his hip.

  I only need them to last a few more seconds. That is all I need.

  “Stay here,” he murmured to Imara. “Be ready to leave at my signal.”

  Permeus moved cautiously toward the sound, every muscle tensed for battle.

  The shadows at the entrance shifted, and he thought he glimpsed a figure moving in the darkness. Drawing his sword, he prepared to defend his family one last time.

  But the stable remained silent. Perhaps the guards had won, or perhaps they had lost, but the assailants did not know their location.

  Either way, Permeus was in no mood of announcing their location by asking. After a tense moment, Permeus backed toward the chariot, unwilling to turn his back on the entrance.

  “I’ll open the rear gates,” he told Imara, his voice barely audible. “You must take the little ones and fly as far and as fast as these horses will carry you until you reach Naian.”

  Imara’s eyes widened. “You’re not coming with us?”

  “I need to warn my siblings. To organize what defense we can.” He saw the protest forming on her lips and pressed a finger gently against them. “I will find you. I swear it on my life.”

  “No,” Imara shook her head, reaching for his hand. “We have to stay together.”

  Her determination matched the fear in her eyes.

  “I won’t leave you behind. We won’t leave you behind. "

  For a moment, Permeus wavered. The thought of being separated from them tore at his heart. But the memory of Germaine’s death immediately crossed his mind, and if that was not enough to rock him, the image of his family burning in pure agony whilst he was unable to help only did more to instill fear into him. He realized he had to steel his resolve for their sake.

  “Ima,” he said softly but firmly, “this enemy is unlike anything that exists. Plus, he seems to want my death especially. If I stay with you, I lead him directly to you and our little ones.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “Let me do this. Let me protect you by drawing his attention elsewhere.”

  Tears welled in Imara’s eyes, but she nodded, understanding the impossible choice before them. “Promise me you’ll come back to us.”

  “Nothing in creation could keep me from you, Imara. Nothing.” He kissed her deeply, pouring all his love and fear into that one desperate embrace.

  Then he kissed each of his daughters on the forehead, memorizing their faces as if it might be the last time he saw them. “Be brave, my little ones.”

  With a heavy heart, Permeus moved to the massive wooden gates at the rear of the stables, designed to allow flying chariots direct access to the sky. He pushed them open, revealing the star-strewn night beyond.

  From this height, he could see the devastation spreading through Titania—fires burning in every district, dark shapes moving through the streets. In the distance, larger forms moved—the beasts of darkness that had accompanied Operas.

  Permeus returned to the chariot and helped Imara take the reins.

  “Fly north and don’t stop until you get there,” he instructed.

  “You’ve already said that,” Imara reminded him in a teasing tone.

  “Well, that’s just because I mean it,” Permeus replied.

  Imara’s hand trembled as she gripped the reins.

  “I love you,” she whispered

  “I love you too.” Permeus stepped back, his heart breaking with each inch of distance between them. “Now go!”

  The horses surged forward, their hooves striking sparks from the stone floor as they galloped toward the open gates. For a moment, the chariot seemed to hang in the air at the threshold, suspended between safety and freedom. Then the horses’ powerful wings unfurled, catching the night air, and the chariot rose gracefully into the sky.

  Permeus watched as his family soared into the darkness, becoming smaller with each passing second.

  “Fly,” he whispered. “Fly far from here.”

  Just as relief washed over him, a streak of brilliant light shot past him from the stable entrance—a massive fireball that hurtled through the night air with deadly precision. Before Permeus could even cry out in warning, it struck the chariot, engulfing it in a blinding explosion of flame and light.

  The shockwave knocked Permeus to his knees. When his vision cleared, there was nothing left in the sky—no chariot, no horses, no trace of his family. Only ash drifting slowly toward the earth.

  A primal scream tore from Permeus’ throat, raw with anguish and disbelief. He had created a world, had shaped life from nothingness, yet in this moment, he was powerless. The emptiness where his family had been moments before crushed him with a weight greater than anything he had ever known..

  Slowly, Permeus turned from the open gates, tears streaming down his face as he faced the source of the fireball. Standing in the entrance to the stables was a figure he recognized—and yet didn’t. Germaine’s familiar form, now corrupted by darkness, shadows writhing beneath his skin like living tattoos. His eyes, once warm with friendship and loyalty, now burned with an unnatural crimson light.

  “Germaine,” Permeus whispered, his voice broken. “What have you done?”