Chapter 8: 8 The two brothers

Settings

Font Size

A

A

16px

Font Family

Background Color

8: The two brothers 8: The two brothers Misael was born in an instant that the world itself perceived.

It was no simple birth: the moment he came into the light, the winds of the Abyss changed direction, the flames of the torches in the Dark Tower all bent in the same direction, as if drawn by a call.

And the elements, the air, the stone, the shadow itself, seemed to recognize that something extraordinary had entered among the living.

Even Lilith, the Empress who feared nothing, felt something deeper than fear as she held the first of her children: a respect tinged with uneasiness.

Misael was perfect and unsettling at the same time.

Skin as pale as marble, blond hair, and eyes that were a stigma of the blood that had created him.

At the center of each iris, a crimson flower opened: six incandescent petals that pulsed like veins filled with fire.

The pupil, black as an abyss, seemed like a portal opening onto nothingness.

He was not a fragile newborn, but a small ruler, and his gaze already supported him.

But it was the second child who made the entire Dark Tower tremble.

A few moments after Misael, Kairan was born.

The moment the second twin took his first breath, the aura of power that emanated was such that Zaroth, the Emperor who dominated life and death, took a step back.

He, the invincible, stepped back.

What he perceived in that newborn had no name.

Misael was strength, he was death, he was destruction: things Zaroth knew, things he could understand and master.

But Kairan was something different.

Something new.

Something his thousand-year-old mind could not define.

The little one had dark skin, black, wavy hair, and the same six petals in his eyes as his brother; But where Misael’s burned red, his were an light blue, marked at the center by dark petals.

That detail alone was enough to chill the room.

In ten thousand years of demonic history, no one had ever had eyes like them.

It took little to understand the truth: Misael embodied death.

Kairan, on the other hand, seemed to embody the balance between all the forces of the cosmos.

A power that neither destroyed nor created, but encompassed both.

A power that transcended everything, even Zaroth.

That night, the Emperor did not sleep.

He sat on his throne, staring into space, while a feeling he hadn’t felt in ten thousand years grew in his chest.

Fear: he had fathered a son, and that son, one day, would surpass him.

He didn’t yet know how, nor whether it would be a duel or a conspiracy.

Zaroth felt that the day he would surrender was closer than he had imagined.

Five Years After the Twins’ Birth The Dark Tower had over a hundred rooms, but only one was considered sacred.

They called it the Library of Silence.

It was an immense hall, its ceiling lost in darkness, where a few torches burned and where millions of black leather-bound volumes awaited their readers on their shelves.

The deepest secrets of the Abyss were kept there: spells capable of tearing the veil of reality, chronicles of forgotten wars, formulas that no demon had dared to utter for millennia.

Only those deemed worthy could enter this place.

At five years old, Kairan entered every day.

Even at that age, the difference between the twins was evident to everyone, and it divided the Tower like a blade divides flesh.

Kairan belonged in the Library.

She spent most of her time there, motionless for hours before a volume, her blue eyes scanning the lines with a concentration that sent shivers down her spine.

The demons who passed him in the corridors regarded him with a mixture of respect and fear, for from that small, childlike body emanated a golden aura of power no one could explain.

As he passed, they lowered their gaze, not by order, but by instinct.

Misael, however, belonged to the Forge of Abominations, a section located in the depths of the Tower, where the young prince conducted experiments that made even the most hardened jailers shudder.

At the center of the Forge lay a pit: a huge vat of red metal, its walls shimmering with energy, from which rose a heat capable of distorting the air.

Within it floated a sea of molten, pulsating metal, alive as a breathing entity.

Into that sea, Misael plunged his hands, toward his works.

They were not objects, they were creatures, monsters emerging from the incandescent metal like children of a cruel flame.

Scaly skin steamed, eyes blazing like embers, claws clawing at the walls, seeking a freedom they would never have.

Four-winged bats fluttered, tethered to a long chain, fire dogs growled incessantly, motionless, and other nameless creatures stood still, sometimes uttering sobs or shrill, blood-curdling cries.

One evening, Misael dipped his hands into the liquid, his eyes narrowed.

He shifted, and from the tub emerged a mass of flesh and metal, writhing, screaming, trying to tear itself apart.

The prince looked at it, and a cold smile spread across his lips.

He hadn’t created a being: he had given form to his own rage.

He raised a hand, and the creature froze, every fiber trembling, its red eyes filled with ferocity and pain.

“Obey me.

Be silent and submit to my will,” the prince thundered.

The abomination, which a moment before had been screaming in fury, bent like a puppet manipulated by an invisible master.

Misael laughed.

Those moments of creation were the only ones that made him laugh.

Kairan, meanwhile, locked in his library, devoured knowledge.

He began with languages: first he learned Alkeim, the common language of demons; then Azrofnir, the guttural tongue of the black dragons; finally Ipmet, the crystalline speech of the Vanhai.

He learned them all at a speed that defied all logic, and he wasn’t content with books: he began to travel the Abyss alone, to speak with those creatures in person.

No one dared stop him.

Despite his five years, he possessed a frightening intelligence: he could predict others’ moves three steps in advance, always got what he wanted, and did so without ever being discovered.

Not even Lilith could contain him, so already at that age, the little prince made friends among the Vanhai, among the dragons, and even among the most distrustful Demons.

They listened to him, they trusted him, and they couldn’t explain why.