Chapter I
Cain ran, the sound of shouting and angry footsteps pounding behind him. He gripped the bag of stolen gold tightly in one hand, his dragon tail whipping behind him as he dodged through the narrow alleys of Wrath.
"Faster!" Goliath, the massive bull, roared as he knocked over crates behind them to slow their pursuers. His heavy hooves smashed against the pavement like drumbeats of war.
"I am fast!" Cain shot back.
"Then maybe don’t steal from a store with guards next time!" Ezra cawed, his black magpie wings tucked against his sides as he ran. Unlike Cain and Goliath, he couldn’t afford to fly—too open, too easy to shoot down.
Behind them, armored enforcers of Wrath’s district yelled orders. Their spears crackled with fire.
"Almost there!" Lilith, the slender fox, called. She was barely out of breath, her fluffy tail trailing behind her as she easily weaved through the chaos. Agile, fast, and way too cocky.
Cain grinned. He lived for moments like this.
With one final push, the four thieves dove into a side alley, slipping into the shadows as the guards thundered past without noticing.
Silence fell.
Lilith turned, flashing a victorious smirk. "That was too easy."
Goliath dropped onto a nearby crate, catching his breath. "You call that easy?"
Ezra let out a chuckle, his talons clicking against the cobblestone as he caught his breath. "Could’ve been worse."
Cain leaned against the wall, finally allowing himself to breathe. His red fur was damp with sweat, and his floppy ears twitched as he listened for any signs of pursuit.
Nothing.
"Alright," he said, tossing the bag onto the ground. "Split it up, like always."
The group fell into familiar routine, each taking their share of the gold. No one was greedy. In Wrath, trust was scarce, and betrayal was deadly.
As Cain pocketed his portion, Lilith nudged him with her elbow. "You ever think about getting out of this life?"
Cain snorted. "And do what?"
Lilith hesitated, her sharp eyes studying him. "Something better."
Cain shook his head. "This is what we do, Lilith. What we’ve always done."
She didn’t argue. But as she turned to leave, her tail brushed against his leg—a small, almost hesitant touch.
Cain didn’t notice.
Lilith sighed and disappeared into the night.
Cain opened the door to his dark apartment. He threw the stolen goods onto the table and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. The place was a mess—discarded fish cans, unwashed clothes, and a faint smell of smoke.
His mind drifted.
Is this it? Is this all life is?
Just as he was about to drift off, the doorbell rang.
Cain’s ears twitched.
No one ever came here.
He stood, wary, and slowly opened the door.
Lilith.
Her blue eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and there was something different in her expression—uncertainty.
"You look like shit," she said.
Cain sighed. "Nice to see you too."
She stepped in without asking and tossed a small envelope onto the table.
"I got something for you," she said.
Cain frowned. "From who?"
"That’s the weird part." She ran a hand through her messy auburn fur, tail flicking. "Some guy bumped into me on the way home. By the time I realized what happened, he was already gone… and this was in my hands."
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Cain narrowed his eyes. "And you thought to bring it here?"
Lilith shrugged. "It has your name on it, genius."
Cain picked up the envelope. The paper was rough, almost ancient, and his name was scrawled in dark red ink.
His claws flexed. Something about this felt wrong.
"You didn’t answer my question," he muttered.
Lilith smirked. "About what?"
Cain turned to her. "How do you know where I live?"
Her grin widened, playful yet secretive. "I have my ways."
Cain sighed. "That’s not an answer."
"And you’re not getting one."
A silence settled between them. Lilith sat on the couch, watching him with an unreadable expression.
Finally, she spoke. "So… you gonna open it or just stare at it all night?"
Cain exhaled sharply and tore the letter open.
His blood ran cold.
Cain’s claws trembled slightly as he unfolded the paper. He expected a threat, a warning—something dark. But instead, there were only two things written in sharp, neat handwriting:
04.04.1783
Main Square
That was next week.
Cain's brow furrowed. No name. No instructions. No explanation.
Lilith leaned over his shoulder, her fluffy tail curling around her legs. "That’s… weird."
Cain nodded. Whoever sent this knew how to find him. That alone was unsettling.
"Could be a trap," she added.
"Could be an opportunity," Cain countered.
Lilith smirked. "You’re too optimistic for a guy living in a dump."
Cain snorted and set the paper down. "Either way, we need to be ready."
She stretched her arms above her head, ears twitching. "Yeah, but that’s a problem for future Cain. Right now, I just wanna sleep."
Cain hesitated. Lilith was tough, but Wrath’s streets were ruthless at night. The idea of her walking home alone didn’t sit right with him.
"...You can stay here," he muttered.
Lilith raised a brow, her fox-like features lighting up with amusement. "Are you worried about me, Cain?"
He looked away. "It’s just… it’s late."
Lilith grinned. "And dark. And scary." She nudged him. "Don’t worry. I won’t steal your bed. Probably."
Cain rolled his eyes. "Just take the couch."
She flopped onto it immediately, tail flicking in satisfaction. "Deal."
Cain sat down next to her, still gripping the letter. His eyes traced the numbers and words, but his mind was elsewhere.
Who sent this? Was it a threat or an opportunity? Was he walking into a trap?
He exhaled slowly. They had a week to figure it out.
Beside him, Lilith let out a quiet yawn.
Before Cain could react, she leaned against him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.
Her silk-soft fur brushed against his cheek, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and city dust. She really was exhausted.
Cain tensed at first—his muscles stiff, his breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t used to this… closeness.
But as the minutes passed, the tension faded. The world outside the apartment—the streets, the heist, the mystery of the letter—all melted away.
His eyes grew heavy.
The last thing he felt before sleep took him was the gentle rhythm of Lilith’s breathing and the warmth of her fur against his skin.
Cain’s eyes snapped open, but he wasn’t in his apartment anymore.
He stood in a vast chamber of black stone, the air thick with the scent of burning sulfur and old blood. Shadows danced along the towering pillars, stretching into a sky that did not exist.
Before him loomed a throne of bone and obsidian, massive beyond reason, carved into the shape of a great dragon’s maw. And sitting upon it…
Abaddon.
Seven serpentine necks rose into the darkness, each bearing a terrible head, their scales gleaming like molten metal. Their glowing eyes stared down at him—each one a different, unnatural color:
Red. Green. Yellow. Blue. Indigo. Violet. Orange.
Some heads bore two jagged horns, others only one or none at all. But the last one, sitting in the center, wore three spires of bone.
Their long necks slithered and curled, attached to a single massive body, broad-shouldered and thick with iron-hard scales. Two enormous wings stretched behind the throne, their tattered membranes flickering like the shadows of a dying fire.
A bulky, armored tail coiled around the base of the throne, the sharp tip digging into the stone. His arms and legs were thick with corded muscle, ending in black, gleaming talons, large enough to tear through mountains or men.
Cain could feel the weight of the beast’s presence, pressing against his chest, making it hard to breathe.
One of the heads lowered toward him, glowing violet eyes narrowing.
"Will you claim your birthright… or will you die like the rest?"
The voice wasn’t spoken aloud—it echoed within Cain’s mind, scraping against his thoughts like steel against bone.
Another head slithered closer, this one with three great horns and golden eyes like burning suns.
Cain clenched his fists, but his body refused to move.
A sudden flurry of whispers rose around him, countless voices in the darkness, speaking words he couldn’t understand.
The throne room began to crack apart.
Cain looked down—black fire was creeping up his legs, consuming the stone beneath him.
He struggled, but the flames burned without pain, pulling him deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Above him, Abaddon’s many heads laughed, their voices melding into one, deep and ancient.
“Wake up.”
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