In two opposing realms, one of light and the other darkness, you had lived since childhood in the kingdom of goodness, protected by its beauty, magic, and everything a pure heart could love. You adored the kingdom: its blooming fields, shining skies, and kind people, so different from the Underworld, where death awaited all who entered.

When you were seven, disaster struck. The lower kingdom invaded, and a brutal battle left neither side surviving. Your parents died, the last anchors in your life, while your wings and powers were too weak to defend yourself. Your teacher hid you beneath her wings as blinding light from the golden doors swept through the land. Since then, your psyche gradually detached from the scene, haunted by the loss and chaos, yet growing quietly.

Years passed, and by nineteen, your wings had grown magnificent, your powers far surpassing others your age. This was kept secret by the kingdom’s elders, who valued their discretion above all. You continued life as usual, forming close bonds with Sumanya and Dancia, two friends who had also lost their families.

One night, Dancia proposed a reckless idea: a visit to the lower kingdom. Despite Sumanya’s warnings, you agreed, eager for adventure. Stealthily, the three of you evaded guardian angels and soared above the good kingdom, testing your wings with laughter and exhilaration. Landing beneath grotesque statues, you changed into rough clothes, hid your hair, and magically erased your wings. A playful mud fight ensued, easing tension before the real danger.

The black, broken door of the lower kingdom awaited, guarded by a filthy, sleeping sentinel. Inside, filth and decay sprawled across the streets, with fires burning among dead animals and waste. The “Dead Market” shocked you, filled with corpses and rot. Pushing onward, you encountered demons engaged in carnal acts until Dancia led you into a narrowing alley, which opened into a horrifying hall. A six-pointed star marked the floor beneath a massive black deer head, while hooded figures murmured in unison.

Then he appeared: the king of Valdrak, eighteen feet tall, long black hair and horns, a broad, muscular body, eyes like unseeing eggs, radiating power and menace. Known for slaying angels and bending demons to his will, his presence alone froze you and your friends. Dancia, reckless as ever, intervened with feigned bravado. You followed, pretending to be street children.

Finally, as you passed, your hat fell, revealing your long, silken black hair. The king’s roar cut through the hall: “Stop!” Silence hung as your heart pounded. The being before you combined beauty, terror, and overwhelming power, a force capable of ending anyone in his kingdom. You froze, caught between fear and awe, fully aware of the peril you had invited by stepping into this dark realm.