Chronicles Of Haplo - The Beginning

The Beginning Of The Chronicles Of Haplo

In the heart of a broken world, where skies had long since lost their blue and the earth trembled beneath the weight of war, Haplo stood alone on the crumbled steps of an ancient temple. The air was thick with ash and the cries of distant battles. He tightened his grip on the Rune Staff, its glowing symbols a faint but steady pulse against the decay surrounding him.

His thoughts were with Destiny, the woman he loved—more than anything, more than the very world he fought to restore. Her memory was the only thing that kept his heart warm in the face of all this destruction. He hadn't seen her in weeks, lost to the chaos as she ventured deep into enemy territory to find the last fragments of the Rune Stones needed to close the rift. Haplo had tried to warn her, but her resolve was as unwavering as his own.

And then there was his brother—Nathor. A name that still twisted inside Haplo like a dagger. The one who sought to open the Death Gate, to call upon the forbidden power and bring an end to this world. Haplo couldn’t understand why Nathor had chosen such a dark path. Was it power? Revenge? Or something more sinister? Whatever it was, Haplo knew he couldn’t stop his brother alone.

But that was the least of his worries. For Haplo had discovered something terrible—something that could doom them all.

The runes he had been researching in the depths of the ruined temple spoke of a prophecy. A prophecy that tied the fate of this world not only to the opening of the Death Gate, but to the heart of the one who could unlock it. And that heart, Haplo feared, belonged to someone he loved.

As he stood there, staring at the blood-red sky, he could feel Destiny’s presence close. She was out there, waiting. Haplo had to find her. Before it was too late.

The wind carried a bitter scent of smoke and decay as Haplo stepped deeper into the ruins of the ancient temple. His staff glowed faintly, lighting the path before him, the runes along its length shifting with his every movement. The structure was old—much older than any human civilization should have been able to craft—but it was clear that time had not been kind. Its stone walls, once polished and magnificent, were now cracked and overgrown with weeds, as though nature itself was attempting to reclaim what had been lost.

His thoughts drifted to Destiny again, her soft face and the way her eyes glimmered with both kindness and an unyielding determination. He remembered the night they shared their first kiss, the way the stars overhead seemed to shimmer brighter than usual, as if the universe itself had blessed them. That was before the war began to take everything from them, before the world was fractured and torn, before Nathor made his choice.

It had been months since the last time he’d seen her. The last time they held hands, whispering promises of a future beyond the bloodshed and madness. The last time Haplo had felt something close to peace.

But peace had become a fleeting memory. In the distance, the sound of weapons clashing reminded him of why he had no time to reminisce. The war was far from over, and the stakes had grown higher than ever.

Haplo paused in the middle of the hall, his senses heightened. The temple was not empty, he could feel it. Something—someone—was waiting in the shadows. He reached out with his magic, letting the runes on his staff resonate with the very pulse of the world around him. It was a subtle but powerful connection, one that allowed him to feel the ebb and flow of magic in the air.

Then, a low, eerie hum filled the space, a hum that sent a shiver down his spine. He wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped from the shadows at the far end of the hall, tall and cloaked in dark, tattered robes. The figure’s hood obscured their face, but there was no mistaking the aura of power that surrounded them. A familiar aura. One that Haplo had tried to ignore, but one he could never forget.

“Nathor…” His voice was a low growl, a mixture of disbelief and anger. He had hoped to never face his brother again, but there he stood, as if fate itself had forced this meeting.

Nathor didn’t flinch at his brother’s voice. He simply stood there, his hands clasped in front of him, as though he had expected this confrontation.

“I thought I might find you here,” Nathor said, his voice calm but with an unsettling edge. “You’ve been searching for me, haven’t you? Searching for the answers to the Death Gate.”

Haplo’s fingers tightened around his staff. “I’m not searching for the Death Gate,” he snapped. “I’m searching for Destiny. And I’m searching for a way to stop you from destroying this world.”

His brother’s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t the kind of smile Haplo remembered from their childhood. It was cold, calculating. “You don’t understand, do you, Haplo? You never did. The Death Gate is not destruction—it’s the only way to truly save this world. This world is already dead, and if we don’t act now, it will be consumed by something far worse. The Death Gate is the answer to everything.”

“Answer to what? Ending everything?” Haplo’s voice was tight with frustration. “You’re wrong, Nathor. Opening the Death Gate will only bring more death, more destruction. It will consume everything. I don’t care what twisted justification you have in your mind—you are not bringing that catastrophe into this world.”

Nathor’s eyes gleamed beneath his hood, a spark of something dangerous. “You’re naive, Haplo. The Death Gate was never meant to destroy the world—it was meant to transcend it. To open the door to a new reality, a reality where we can reshape everything, where we can live beyond the reach of time and death itself.”

“You think you can control it?” Haplo spat, stepping forward. “You think you can control death itself? It’s already consuming you, Nathor. I can see it—the corruption in your eyes, the way you speak as though you’ve already accepted it. This isn’t about saving anyone—it’s about power. And that’s something you will never understand. Not until it’s too late.”

Nathor remained silent for a moment, then he sighed, as though disappointed by his brother’s words. “You still believe in hope, don’t you? You still believe that this broken world can be fixed with nothing more than a few runes and a couple of noble ideals.”

Haplo’s heart clenched. He had believed in hope. He had believed in restoring the world, in fixing the wounds that had been inflicted upon it. But Nathor’s words stung in ways he hadn’t anticipated. “I don’t believe in a perfect world,” he said quietly. “I believe in a better world. One where we fight for the future, even if we can’t undo the past.”

Nathor’s expression softened for a brief moment, but it was fleeting. “Then you will never understand,” he whispered. “And that’s why you will fail.”

The room grew colder, and the ground beneath Haplo’s feet trembled. Something was happening. The air felt thick, heavy with the presence of something ancient and terrible. It was then that Haplo realized—this wasn’t just a confrontation. This was the beginning of something far worse.

“You’ve already started the ritual,” Haplo said, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes scanned the temple, noticing the ancient symbols carved into the stone, glowing faintly in the dark.

Nathor nodded, his lips curving into a sadistic grin. “I’ve been preparing for this moment my entire life. The Death Gate is almost open. And once it is, nothing will stop me from reshaping this world.”

A pulse of magic erupted from Nathor, and the ground beneath Haplo’s feet cracked open, sending a surge of energy racing through the room. Haplo barely had time to react, his rune staff flaring to life as he raised it to shield himself from the blast. The runes along the staff shone brightly, and the energy from the explosion collided with his shield in a burst of light and force.

But Nathor wasn’t done. He stepped forward, his cloak swirling around him, and with a single gesture, the temple’s walls shook. Ancient runes carved into the stone began to glow, their magic shifting and pulsing with an eerie rhythm. A low hum echoed through the temple, growing louder and louder as the Death Gate’s power began to awaken.

Haplo’s heart raced. He had to stop this, but the power in the air was overwhelming, and Nathor’s grip on the Death Gate was stronger than ever.

“You’re making a mistake,” Haplo shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos. “The Death Gate doesn’t just change the world—it consumes it. It consumes everything. You can’t control it.”

Nathor paused, and for a moment, Haplo saw a flicker of uncertainty in his brother’s eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I don’t need to control it, Haplo. I need to awaken it.”

The Death Gate was open.