A century ago, the Sky Shard split the heavens, forever altering the course of humanity. The world fractured into chaos as mutated creatures roamed the lands, and those who dared to wield the power of the Shard found themselves drawn into madness.

But from the ashes of the old world rose Veyruun, a colossal city built by the leaders of the fractured factions. Seven council leaders, each representing a different faction and zone, came together to govern what remained of the human race. The city, though brimming with life, hides countless secrets beneath its walls.

Within this fractured world, Damon lives in isolation, along with his loyal wolf, Hopper. Born weak and terrified of the chaos outside, Damon has spent years hiding in an underground bunker, only venturing into the wilderness when absolutely necessary. He’s learned to fear blood, creatures, and the dark energy that once shaped the world.

But his life is about to change.

In the wilderness, Damon and Hopper stumble upon a mutated beast. It’s a mere shadow of the horrors the world has birthed, yet it holds the potential to force Damon to confront his deepest fears.

And as the beast falls, so too does the beginning of Damon’s journey.

He may be weak, but with Hopper at his side, a rare bond formed in the forest, Damon is about to discover the true power hidden within the Sky Shard—and it’s a power that will change the fate of the world.

This is the start of Damon’s journey. One that will see him rise from fear and weakness, harness the cursed powers of ancient weapons, and uncover the dark truths of the Veyruun city and the world beyond it.

Chapter 1 — The Crack in the Sky

They said the sky shattered a hundred years ago.

Not broke. Not exploded. Shattered—like glass, like the heavens themselves gave up trying to hold it all together. No one truly knows what caused it. Some blamed the mages. Others whispered about ancient weapons, forgotten gods, or something worse.

What really mattered was what came next.

From the broken sky fell things. Creatures. Shards. Power. Madness.

The old governments panicked. Cities collapsed. Nations burned. In the chaos, the remaining world leaders joined forces and built Veyruum—a colossal city the size of six countries welded together with steel, fear, and too many rules.

They walled it off, called it humanity’s last safe zone.

But even that wasn’t really safe.

Outside Veyruum, in the wild, twisted forests and ruined lands, something else grew—old shadows, new nightmares, and broken things looking for meaning… or blood.

Damon was born into the aftermath. He didn’t know peace or how things used to be. All he had was a small bunker in the forest, a dull knife, and a wolf named Hopper.

And fear.

So much fear.

He flinched at thunder. Shook when he saw blood. He froze when people screamed. It wasn’t weakness. It was honesty. Damon didn’t pretend to be brave. He wasn’t.

But something was changing.

He could feel it.

---

“You’re staring at the ceiling again,” Hopper said, sprawled out beside Damon on the thin mattress in the bunker.

“I’m thinking.”

“You always say that when you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

Pause.

“I’m terrified,” Damon admitted.

The wolf huffed, his icy blue eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “You’ll be okay. You have me.”

“Yeah,” Damon whispered, managing a smile. “I do.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The bunker walls were covered in chalk lines—marking days, thoughts, and failed plans. Damon had spent the last year sketching possible routes out of the forest, drawing weapon designs he didn’t know how to build, and writing lists of things he was afraid of.

The last one was the longest.

“I think I need to leave soon,” he said. “Go out there. Try to be more than this.”

Hopper lifted his head. “You’re already more. You just don’t see it yet.”

There was a silence between them. Comfortable, but heavy.

Damon stood and walked toward the metal door. He hesitated, hand on the handle. The world outside was brutal. He’d seen it. Heard it. Smelled it.

But it was also beautiful. And alive.

And he was tired of hiding from it.

He opened the door.

Sunlight spilled in like a flood of gold and heat. The forest was quiet, for now. Trees reached up toward the fractured sky, vines shimmered with faint bioluminescence, and somewhere in the distance, something howled.

Damon took a breath.

One step.

Then another.

Hopper followed, silent but steady.

The world had cracked. Monsters roamed. Cursed weapons existed. Shards of magic still fell from the heavens, and people hunted each other for power.

But Damon walked forward anyway.

He didn’t know where the road led.

He only knew it was time to begin.

[End of Chapter 1

Chapter 2 — The Things That Howl

The forest didn’t look dangerous.

Sunlight filtered through the trees like warm syrup, leaves danced in lazy circles from the canopy to the forest floor, and the air smelled of wild berries and damp soil.

But Damon knew better.

“Alright,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Day one of being brave.”

Hopper padded beside him, head low, tail swaying. “You’ve said that twelve times this morning.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe the thirteenth is the charm.”

He adjusted the strap on his small backpack. Inside were the essentials: a dented water bottle, a crumpled map of the old zones, a few dried rations, and one cracked knife that had seen better days—and nearly lost a blade to a particularly angry bush last week.

But still. It was a start.

They moved slowly, with Hopper sniffing the air every few feet and Damon trying not to trip over roots.

“So,” Hopper said after a while, his voice a gentle hum in Damon’s mind. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere that’s not the bunker.” Damon looked up through a break in the trees. The sky shimmered above—fractured but stable, as if holding its breath.

“That narrows it down.”

Damon chuckled. “You always complain, but you never stop following me.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your clumsy self alive.”

They stopped near a wide creek where clear water ran over stones that glittered faintly blue—a sign of lingering shard energy. Damon crouched and filled his bottle carefully, watching the stones. No movement.

Good.

Still, he didn’t stay long.

The deeper parts of the forest weren’t like the ones near the bunker. Here, nature didn’t follow rules. Branches twisted in unnatural shapes. Mushrooms pulsed with light like they were breathing. Every so often, Damon saw something move just outside his vision—a blur, a twitch, a shadow that didn't belong.

He didn’t talk about it.

Some things were better left unacknowledged.

---

By noon, Damon’s shirt stuck to his back, and his legs felt like wet noodles.

“We should rest,” he said, stopping near an overturned log.

“Finally,” Hopper sighed, immediately curling up. Damon sat down beside him and pulled out a ration bar. He stared at it like it had personally offended him.

“It’s protein. It’s supposed to taste like that.”

“No. It tastes like regret and burnt rubber.”

He broke the bar in half and tossed a chunk to Hopper, who sniffed it once, then turned his head dramatically away.

They both laughed—Damon’s was tired but real.

Then, just as he leaned back and closed his eyes, they heard it.

A howl.

Not a wolf howl. Not a call.

This was deep and raw and filled with something wrong. It echoed through the trees like a warning, shaking the leaves and making the ground seem colder.

Damon’s eyes snapped open. “That wasn’t—”

“Nope,” Hopper growled, already standing. His ears were flat, fur spiking.

Something was coming.

---

They ran.

Not far, not blindly—Damon had grown up in the forest. He knew where to step, where to hide, where the ground dipped low and the trees grew close together.

They ducked into a hollow between two boulders as the sound of movement approached—fast, crashing, getting closer.

And then it appeared.

A creature—eight feet tall, walking upright like a man but with the bones of something long dead and the skin of something too alive. Its arms were too long, claws scraping the ground. Its eyes burned red, but not with intelligence. With hunger.

Damon’s breath caught in his throat. His hand trembled over his knife.

“Stay quiet,” Hopper whispered in his mind. “It hasn’t seen us.”

But Damon had never been good at not panicking.

His foot slipped on a loose rock.

The sound wasn’t loud. But it was loud enough.

The creature stopped. Its head snapped to the side, sniffed the air—

And then it screamed.

A raw, piercing shriek that made Damon’s ears ring and his legs want to bolt in opposite directions.

“RUN!” Hopper barked aloud.

They burst from the hollow. Damon didn’t even think—he just followed Hopper, heart trying to break out of his chest. The trees blurred past. The ground flew beneath them. Behind, he heard crashing, snarling, branches snapping like twigs.

The beast was close.

Too close.

---

They reached a cliffside drop-off—a steep ledge that led down into a rocky ravine.

No time to think.

They jumped.

The world tilted sideways. Damon’s stomach flipped. He hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and came to a stop near a patch of thorny grass.

Hopper landed beside him, yelping.

Above, the creature howled again—but it didn’t jump.

Too big. Too cautious.

Damon lay there gasping, staring up at the cracked sky, heart hammering.

“That…” he wheezed, “was a bad idea.”

“Yup,” Hopper agreed, panting. “But it worked.”

Damon laughed—more from exhaustion than humor. His hands still trembled, and his chest ached, but he was alive.

He had survived his first encounter.

It hadn’t been pretty.

But it had been something.

He sat up slowly, brushing dirt and blood off his knees. “Next time,” he said, “I want the monster to trip instead of us.”

“You can tell it that yourself next time.”

Damon smiled weakly, looking ahead.

The forest was still thick. The shadows still long.

But he wasn’t turning back.

[End of Chapter 2]