The Heavenly Demon of Terror

Samuel's POV

The wind howled through the desolate ruins of the Shattered Bastion, a once-mighty fortress now reduced to crumbling stone and lingering memories. The air was thick with the scent of ash and old magic, a testament to the battles fought and lost here.

I navigated the debris-strewn path, my boots crunching over shattered remnants of what was once a grand hall. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant echoes of the past.

At the heart of the ruins stood Henry, his form silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the broken arches. His armor, though tarnished, still bore the insignia of the old guard. He turned as I approached, his gaze steady and unflinching.

"Samuel," he greeted, his voice carrying the weight of countless battles. "I sensed your arrival."

I inclined my head. "Henry. It's been a while."

He studied me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've changed. The ritual?"

I nodded. "Completed. The seal on the Forgotten Gate is reinforced, but it's only a temporary measure."

Henry's expression darkened. "Then the true threat still looms."

"Yes," I confirmed. "And we need all the allies we can muster. That's why I'm here."

He crossed his arms, considering. "Owen will be a challenge. He's grown... distant."