Empire of Demon Ezra
CHAPTER-01
The Dawn of Blood
1 . The First Son of Earth Mother
"Long ago, before time counted and the stars had names, the gods shaped the world out of silence."
In that infinite void, the Great Creator - a being beyond names - gave life to a planet of unparalleled beauty. He named her Gaelira, (Mother of Life).
Gaelira shuddered. Forests spread across her skin, moving in the breath of dawn. Rivers carved themselves from her tears. and her laughter rose like mountains covered with eternal snow. The golden deserts curled at her feet like sleeping lions, the wide and deep seas shone like her mirrors. She was bright - like a living gem that hung in the vast, dark ocean.
To protect this newborn world, the Creator called the sky keeper Aya Caelum. With wings of light and the heart of the storm, Caelum stretched his vast presence above her, enveloping her in the infinite sky. He sang to her with thunder, kissed her in the rain, and embraced her valleys in the gentle breeze. Love blossomed between the sky and the earth.
In front of the eyes of the gods - Solon the sun king, Nocturne the moon lover, Ignis the fire protector, Ares the guardian of the wind and Delmora the master of the seas - Gaelira and Caelum were married in a combination of fire, storm, surroundings and stone.
Their love has paid off.
One night when the stars shone brighter than a flame and the beating of the earth echoed like a flicker, Gaelira cried out in pain of creation. The gods gathered, the oceans held their breath, and even the stars bowed close. A child emerged from her womb unlike any other.
the natural energy of his body.
The sight was bright, yet his appearance was strange and terrible to behold. The eyes glowed with blood-red fire, the horns twisted like the crescent moon, the black serpentine scars scattered on his pale skin, moving like living spells. The large wings are spread wide behind him.
The gods murmured in disquiet.
"A demon child? "
But Gaelira held him close, only smiling with firm love.
She whispered in her voice that "this one" carries the harmony of rivers and winds. "This is our son. A son with my heart and his father's anger.
So she called him Ezrion.
His face inspired fear, but his spirit was gentle. Ezrion bowed to the elders and lowered his red eyes in reverence. He knelt in front of the flowers, sang softly to catch their blossoms, and laughed with them until the wings of the birds danced beside him. His joy spread through the forests of Gaelira like a wind blowing over the grass, and the earth itself seemed to answer him.
The years flowed like rivers, and Gaelira gave birth to another son. He was different from his brother. He emerged in human form, weak without wings, horns, or unadulterated natural strength. But he shone a different light. His skin shone like the first morning, and his eyes were calm and deep as still water. The devoutly silent gods murmured: this child is a symbol of hope.
They named him Adamor .
From the moment his brother was born, Ezrion began to love him. He walked through the wild meadows under the golden sun, carrying Adamor on his shoulders. He fought against the animals. In the silence of the night, he whispered the secrets of the wind and the flame, and shared with Adamor the inner songs of nature. The relationship between them was unbreakable - or so it seemed.
2. The storm & shadow twins
After a period of happiness within their small and blessed family, Gaelira's womb once again stirred in creation, she gave birth to two twin souls, and the world itself seemed to catch its breath.
The first to emerge was Elthaea, born from an explosion of uncontrolled energy that shook the air like thunder. It seemed that the sky itself reacted to her arrival: the clouds split, lightning struck the sky, and the fragrance of ozone filled them all around.
She wasn't crying. On the contrary, it was a resonance of power - a sharp sound that echoed through the forests of Gaelira. Her hair was shiny as snow. Her white eyes glowed like the stars of old, and there was in them the calm brightness of the coming storms. As she took her first breath, tiny sparks flickering like distant stars caught in the newborn's arms danced on her fingertips.Even the elder gods recoiled in fear, for she was no ordinary child; she was the incarnation of a storm, a living conduit of both heaven’s wrath and grace.
The small head of the baby, tired yet radiant Gaelira was gently touched.Elthaea, the remarkable child, murmured as the surge of energy coursed through her body. From above, Caelum wrapped a protective wind around his daughter, looking at Elthaea, and said, “You are my storm. Let no shadow dim your light.”
Minutes passed. Nyxara was born and placed in a silent room. Where Elthaea called forth fire and lightning, Nyxara brought silence and shadow. Her first breath was soft, almost a whisper, deepening the darkness and wrapping the room like a protective veil.
Her skin was dark and flawless, absorbing the faint glimmer of light. Hair, midnight-blue, shimmered even in shadow, cascading like a river of night in her mother’s hands. Her blue eyes were cold and piercing, as if gazing beyond the world—holding secrets even the gods could not fathom.
Nyxara did not cry. Instead, she observed the slow curling of her tiny fingers, calm and deliberate. Even as a newborn, she radiated a strange, silent presence that seemed to bend the air itself. Gaelira, watching from the side, murmured, “She comes from the shadows. She is both a protector and a mystery.”
The twins were opposites in every essence, yet they were born from the same womb—a duality reflecting the balance of the world. Elthaea’s smile, even in infancy, burst forth like lightning in new snow; Nyxara’s steady, unglamorous gaze carried the weight of centuries. Gaelira’s heart swelled with both pride and caution—two children of extraordinary power, shaping the fates of Gaelira and all who dwelled within. From that day forward, the twins were worlds apart in presence yet inseparably entwined in spirit.
3. The Marriages, Betrayal,
As the children grew, their lives wove together like threads in a vast, shimmering tapestry—threads of light and shadow, love and longing, laughter and sorrow.
Ezrion and Elthaea were inseparable. Their love burned with a wild, untamed fire. Her laughter spilled across the skies like silver rain, her eyes crackling with the storm and thrill of life. His wings, vast and dark, wrapped around her like a protective embrace, yet soft enough to trace every curve of her joy. In each other, they found a passion as unstoppable as the waves that crash endlessly against the cliffs of the world—a love that defied time and breathed life into every heartbeat.
Their sister, Nyxara, remained alone, a quiet shadow in the glow of their union. Her mind was deep as midnight seas, her heart hidden behind veils of night. Within that darkness simmered a secret devotion—love for Adamor, burning steady and unclaimed. She watched him in silence, a flicker of hope in her eyes, yet her love remained unseen, unheard, as if the world had forgotten her existence.
And then the gods, robed in celestial fire and shadow, convened in their high halls, their judgments slicing through eternity like blades of crystal light. Their decree was absolute: Ezrion would wed Elthaea, their hearts destined to burn together. Adamor, the gods proclaimed, would be paired with Nyxara, his spirit entwined with hers.
Ezrion and Elthaea rejoiced. Hands clasped, their eyes locked in a luminous embrace, their souls intertwining as if the cosmos itself had been carved for them. Every glance spoke of devotion, every touch a silent vow. Their love shimmered with unspoken promises and infinite tenderness.
But Adamor… Adamor’s heart was not so easily tamed. His gaze lingered not on Nyxara, whose quiet devotion surrounded him like gentle wind, but on Elthaea—the one lost to him, the one who should never have been beyond reach. He smiled, tight-lipped, hiding the dark tendrils of desire and envy that crept silently through his veins. The seed of longing festered, curling around his heart, and jealousy began to bloom like a vine choking the light.
Nyxara felt it. She saw the way his eyes followed her sister, saw the hunger and the ache that had no outlet, and a bitter flame ignited in her chest. A love unreturned became a shadowy weight, entwining with Adamor’s forbidden yearning. She loved him fiercely, yet she could not draw him near. Their hearts beat in parallel, never meeting, never fulfilling, a silent lament echoing in the spaces between them.
Ezrion and Elthaea’s love bore fruit in four radiant children: Kaelven, strong and brave, carrying the boldness of his father’s wings; Tharion, thoughtful and calm, a mirror of his mother’s storm-touched spirit; Lysera, a lively spark, whose laughter lit every corner of the palace like a sunbeam; and Aureth, fierce and radiant, a fusion of lightning and light, a living testament to the fire that bound their parents together.
Their days were a cascade of warmth and joy, a harmony that touched every soul they met. Yet, in the shadows of that radiant family, Adamor’s longing burned ever brighter, and Nyxara’s envy deepened, a quiet storm that promised the day when love and betrayal would collide.
4. Seeds of Vengeance
The stars hung like shards of ice in the velvet sky, their cold light falling on two figures standing at the edge of a cliff. The wind tugged at their cloaks, carrying whispers of old betrayals and unspoken promises.
Nyxara’s eyes glimmered like frozen sapphire, her voice a deadly melody.
“We have been wronged,” she said, pressing Adamor’s hand against hers. The touch was both warmth and a spark of fire. “Ezrion holds what should have been ours. Elthaea… he was given her, a prize beyond reckoning, while we are left with nothing.”
Adamor’s jaw clenched, veins dark with rage. Shadows seemed to coil around him, feeding the storm within his heart.
“Then we will take it,” he hissed. “We will burn what he loves to ash.”
Nyxara smiled—calm, dangerous, a predator’s grace in human form.
“Let us make him vanish,” she whispered, and in those words, the pact was sealed.
Under the silver gaze of the moon, they found Elthaea wandering alone, the innocence of her smile breaking the night. Adamor’s voice trembled, a mask of grief concealing the malice within.
“Alas… my sister… forgive me. Ezrion has deceived us. Nyxara… she… she carries a child by his hand…”
The lie struck like a dagger of ice. Elthaea’s storm-grey eyes widened. Her breath faltered. A crack appeared in her heart, and for a fleeting instant, the world turned hollow.
When Ezrion returned, he found her broken by grief, her eyes distant, her soul weighed with doubt. “Elthaea… what’s wrong?” he asked gently, sensing the cold distance that had grown between them.
She faltered, then told him of Adamor’s words. His disbelief turned to desperation, his voice quivering with the sincerity of a love unshaken.
“No! I swear on my soul, on our mother’s breath… it is not true! I would sooner burn my wings than harm you!”
But doubt is a venomous seed, and it had already rooted itself in her veins. Silence fell between them like a blade. Days passed in a tense, uneasy separation. The warmth of their love grew distant, replaced by suspicion and fear. Each shared glance, each unspoken word, was a silent accusation. A simple touch felt alien. The accident—the moment when her trust fractured—hung like a shadow over every fleeting joy, poisoning the space between them.
In those dark days, Elthaea’s own shadows became her refuge. Nyxara’s embrace, a cruel nest of thorns, whispered lies into her ear.
“Ezrion… he came for me… Adamor tried to protect me… but he… he killed him,” Nyxara murmured, tears glinting like shards of glass.
Pain ignited Elthaea’s heart. Lightning surged through her veins, shaping itself into a weapon of divine wrath. From her anguish, Valkion was born—a blade that shimmered with fire and storm, a sentinel of vengeance.
Exhausted, she collapsed, Valkion glowing beside her like a heartbeat in the dark. Her dreams twisted into visions of blood and betrayal, wings torn, love shattered beyond repair. In the shadows, Nyxara lingered, hands trembling but resolute, and stole the blade, placing it into Adamor’s grasp. Fate’s threads twisted tighter, and the storm of vengeance was set into motion.
5. The Storm of Wrath
The night was heavy, charged with unnatural electricity. Ezrion walked through the meadows, his children laughing at his side, the world unaware of the shadow gathering above. The air smelled of ozone, of something ancient and terrible awakening.
A flash of steel, a scream torn from the throat of the innocent. Valkion struck from behind, ripping through flesh and spirit in a heartbeat. Ezrion fell, a storm of agony exploding across his face as lightning carved the sky. He turned, eyes wide with disbelief, to see Adamor—his brother, his blood—standing over him, sword dark with betrayal.
Thunder shattered the heavens. Rivers stilled mid-stream, and the earth shivered under the weight of grief that belonged to no mortal.
Elthaea woke in a heartbeat, senses aflame. Nyxara emerged from the shadows, her voice breaking like brittle glass:
“Adamor… he lied. I lied. Ezrion… he was innocent. He—”
Her confession struck Elthaea like a tidal wave. Time froze. The wind stilled. The world seemed to hold its breath as Elthaea staggered forward, heart hammering, desperate, terrified.
Ezrion lay in the grass, Valkion buried deep in his chest. His life flickered like a candle in a storm. Elthaea fell to her knees, trembling, her hands pressed to his blood-soaked face.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, voice raw and broken. “I should have trusted you… I should never have doubted.”
He smiled faintly, pain etched in every line of his face.
“Why… must fate be so cruel? Why… did you doubt me? Protect… our children… they are all I leave behind… I love you…”
His hand slipped from hers. His gaze faded. And the heavens wept.
Grief burned into fury. Elthaea’s voice cut through the storm, a curse that would echo through time:
“Adamor… your peace ends tonight. Your bloodline will bleed endlessly. Nyxara… your body will rot, your soul will wander, faceless, longing for what you destroyed.”
Even the gods recoiled.
Gathering her children and Ezrion’s lifeless form, Elthaea vanished into the ancient forest, a shadow among shadows, as thunder roared approval. For the first time since dawn, the heavens wept openly, mourning what had been lost—and fearing what was yet to come.
End of Chapter 01
