Book one; Devil Child.
New vale, the last bastion of humanity, was a city of grey skies and silence.
Steel walls of darkness, humanity has come to call the hollow reached for the grey sky, blackened by the soot of dying civilization.
Along fractured streets, hushed markets bustled, tall buildings that shot into the sky, flickered with light, and hungry eyes peeked from behind reinforced glass.
The world outside was gone. Only this remained. a city that stood from mercy of the tower.
Every morning, workers gathered at the center of new vale where the mysterious tower gifted its light, and kept the hollow and its vile horrors at bay.
The workers wore reinforced suits and bore pickaxes.The ore mined from the tower's outer shell was the most valuable resource in this strange world, ether essence rich and essential for the survival of humanity.
Beneath the tower's looming presence, these men and women greeted one another with familiarity, forming teams before descending into the trench. They hacked away, not speaking much. No one ever laughed near the tower of mysteries.
Further into the tower, far past the safe zones, beyond the marked flags of different factions and cracked wards, stood a gate.
Massive. Blacker than oil, and shaped like the open maw of a demonic fiend, frozen mid-roar. It pulsed faintly, like it breathed. No one mined near it. No one looked at it too long.
That path was not for them.
That was for the pillars of this dying civilization, the pathseekers.
Only those who went through the calling dared to step through. And only the most valiant ever returned.
On this particular day, the city of new vale was shaken to its very core.
The gate rotated. And from its mouth emerged a woman, tall. Clad in blood-soaked armor that shimmered with fading glyphs, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail by a tattered ribbon, it was the first sword of vale, the lady Beatrice.
Her steps were slow, her eyes distant, as if she was staring at a distant horror.
She had gone in with a full party.
She came back alone, but the fact that she came back wasn't the issue here, humans as powerful as her seldom perish in the tower of Mysteries.
The workers stared in horror as the gate went still.
"It's a ruler, they're back already".
"But… Where's the rest of them?".
"Look, the gate has seized, that means…".
The crowd gasped in horror.
The woman stood still, her red tattered cape flying in the wind. In her arms, she carried something no one expected, a baby.
Barely a day old. Wrapped in a blackened cloak, its skin pale as snow, and its hair... pitch black. But what silenced the murmuring hearts of the watching workers were its eyes.
Ethereal and inhuman, like the eyes of the vile spawn that have pushed humanity to the brink of extinction.
The young woman clutched the child to her chest like it was all she had left in the world.
Whispers began almost immediately.
By dusk, all of New Vale knew, A party of ruler rank Pathseekers had met their demise, a party of the most powerful entity's humanity had to offer, and all for a child that didn't look quite human.
A child mysteriously born within the Tower.
A child with the eyes of the vile spawn.
… …
Fifteen years later.
The City of New Vale has shrunk by more than half, the hollow now laying claim to the lost territory of humanity.
Most of the magnificent buildings have deteriorated, and most of the people are gone as well, with more death than life being born.
The last bastion of humanity is facing the most crisis it has faced since they first found themselves in this dying world.
…
The day was bleak, but humanity still continues to persevere. And on this particular day, a fifteen year old boy ran along the cracked pavement, shuttling through the crowd while trying to keep the package in his hands from falling to the ground.
The boy was small and thin, with pale subtle skin that resembled that of a newborn baby, his hair, long and unkept, was pitch black, like the everlasting darkness of the hollow that slowly consumes the city.
His eyes had a blood red ethereal halo within them, which made him a very recognisable figure in the city.
"Hey, I'm walking here".
"Get away from me devil brat".
"Hey watch it, oh, Alexander… die devil child".
Alexander ignored the scornful looks and demeaning insults, he kept dashing forward like his life depended on it.
He eventually made it to an establishment, not the most renowned, but still well known enough to attract a crowd even in the day.
"Watch it, freak," muttered a man as Alexander brushed past, nearly dropping the small wrapped bundle in his hands.
Alexander didn't respond. He never does.
Behind the counter, a hunched old man with a crooked nose and a beard like a forest of cobwebs looked up. "Ah, kiddo," he said, smiling gently. "Made it without falling this time?"
Alexander gave a tired nod. "Hey old man Jerry… could you help me out, I don't want to get a beating again."
The old man laughed lightly, before saying in a single breath.
"Upstairs. Third room on the left. Hope you brought a heavy foot, he's in one of those moods."
Alexander ascended the rickety steps, his breaths now steady, the noise of the bar below fading. At the top, he turned left and walked toward the third door, cracked with peeling paint and a bronze plate that simply read "3."
He raised his fist to knock, but then he paused.
Alexander could hear low gasps and Heavy strained breathing through the door. He went bright red, but he couldn't go back, the last time he made a late delivery, Billy almost killed him.
He hesitated, unsure. But the package needed delivering. He knocked once and then twice.
No response.
Then, with a loud thud, the door flung open, and standing there, entirely nude was a large, balding man, flushed and sweaty, glaring daggers at him.
Alexander squealed inwardly.
"Shit, so much for not getting beat for the day".
"Damnit, devil child!" he barked. "The one time you actually show up early, and you interrupt just when we were about to climax!"
He grabbed Alexander by his hair, yanked him inside, and slammed the door shut behind them.