In this world, power decides everything.
There are five realms—each with its own rulers, laws, and dangers:
the Human Realm, the Realm of Jinn, the Spirit Realm, the Demon Realm, and the Realm of Gods.
Time flows differently in each realm.
Two minutes in the human world… equals a thousand years in the world of demons, spirits, or gods.
And each realm is ruled by powerful beings called "Lords."
Some rule with order.
Some rule with chaos.
Some… want more than just power.
This is not a peaceful world.
This is a world where survival comes first.
And for some, survival comes at a terrible cost.
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The sun blazed above a dusty mountain road, cutting through a dense forest that cloaked one side of the path. A wooden carriage creaked along the uneven dirt trail, pulled by three exhausted horses. At the reins sat a soldier—tired, sweaty, and humming a religious tune under his breath to distract himself from the endless journey.
Inside the carriage, twenty young girls sat huddled together. Their ages ranged from seven to eighteen. Their hands and feet were bound tightly with ropes, and cloth gags muffled any sound they tried to make. Fear shimmered in their eyes. None of them knew where they were being taken or why.
Among them sat one girl who stood out—not because of what she said or did, but because of how she looked. She was around eight years old, with long golden hair and striking blue eyes. Unlike the others, she didn't appear exhausted, though hunger and thirst gnawed at her just the same. Her clothes were clean and well-kept, far more so than the tattered garments of the others.
Her mind drifted. She remembered playing with some children, laughing in a field... but she couldn't recall who they were. Their faces were a blur. Then came the soldiers—she had been taken forcefully, shoved into this carriage. And each day since, more girls joined her, crying and terrified.
They had barely eaten in days. A scrap of bread and a single apple had been their only food in the past week. The little girl hadn't even the energy left to cry; her tears had dried up in the first few days of captivity.
Suddenly, the carriage stopped.
The horses refused to take another step. The soldier swore under his breath, climbing down and lashing them angrily. The beasts didn't budge. Fed up, the soldier grunted and decided to rest a moment.
Then a darker thought crept into his mind.
A wicked grin spread across his face. The girls inside—tied up, helpless—couldn't stop him. He walked toward the back of the carriage and opened the door, his eyes scanning hungrily over the captives. He looked for the oldest among them, as if that somehow made his intentions less cruel.
His eyes settled on a girl with chestnut brown hair. She looked slightly older than the others, her figure catching his attention. He stepped toward her, his gaze full of malice.
But he never reached her.
A slicing sound broke the silence. In an instant, the soldier's head was severed from his body. It fell to the ground with a sickening thud, blood spurting like a fountain from his neck.
The girls screamed behind their gags. The horses whinnied in panic and, with a sudden burst of energy, bolted forward. The carriage jolted violently.
But it didn't get far.
A fiery blast struck one of the horses, another hit the rear wheels. The carriage collapsed to the ground, splintering, though the main cabin remained intact. The girls inside were thrown about but mostly unharmed.
Three figures approached—soldiers, but not human. They wore armor bearing the sigil of a kingdom of the Jinn.
Two of them were warriors. One, towering and muscular; the other, lean with sharp eyes and a cruel smirk. The third figure stayed back, cloaked, a book of spells in his hand. A mage.
The lean warrior stepped into the wrecked carriage.
"Is there a boy here? Blond hair, blue eyes?" he barked.
The girls shrank back. No one answered.
"Are you deaf?!" he shouted, eyes scanning the frightened faces.
He grabbed the older girl with the brown hair by her hair and yanked her up. She whimpered as he tore the gag from her mouth.
"Answer me! Have you seen a boy matching that description?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. They just said they'd help me find my mother... that's all I know."
"I don't care about your sob story! Is there a boy here or not?!"
"We're all girls here!" she cried out.
The warrior snarled and threw her out of the carriage. Her head struck a rock, and she went limp, unconscious.
He turned his gaze to the small blonde girl. Something about her made him hesitate.
"This is a waste of time," he spat.
"Maybe the intel was wrong," the muscular one replied. "But these are orders from the High Lord's deputy. We had no choice."
"Whatever," the cruel one muttered, and they began to leave.
The mage remained still.
"I forgot something," he said softly. "My book... I left it near the carriage. I'll be quick."
"Hurry. The gate won't stay open long," one of the warriors called.
But the mage had a different reason.
He returned to the carriage, looked at the terrified girls, and with a whisper, cast a spell that loosened all their bindings.
"Wait until we're gone. Then run. As far and fast as you can," he whispered.
He left, vanishing into the trees.
Evening fell.
The small blonde girl remained behind. She sat frozen in a corner of the carriage, her wide eyes locked on the corpse of the beheaded soldier. She hadn't moved for hours.
Her body trembled. Her mind filled with horrible images—flashes of blood, screaming, the memory of a man and woman lying in pools of red. She couldn't remember who they were... but the pain felt familiar.
Eventually, she mustered the courage to climb down.
Outside, she saw the older girl with brown hair still lying motionless in the dirt, blood matting her hair. The sight froze her.
But then the girl stirred.
"Hey... you there," she whispered hoarsely.
The blonde girl blinked, surprised. She rushed forward and knelt beside her, trying to help her up.
The older girl, dazed, studied her face. Her clothes were too clean, too neat. She wasn't sure where the girl had come from.
But then she noticed the rope marks on her wrists.
"You... you were in the carriage too?"
The little girl nodded.
"Why didn't you run?" the brown-haired girl asked.
No answer.
"How old are you?"
Still no reply. Just those wide blue eyes.
With effort, the brown-haired girl stood up, leaning on the little one for support.
She looked down at her and smiled weakly.
"My name is Rose... what's yours?"
The small girl stared up at her.
And then, she smiled back.