Darkness had never needed a queen. But when the stars abandoned the sky and the moon disappeared into the shadows, a new power rose to fill the void. Nyxara, the Empress of the Night, who ruled over the boundless realm of the unknown, didn’t just bear the title – she embodied it, in every fiber of her being.

  Her skin shimmered in a gentle violet hue, barely visible in the dim light of Hell. Her eyes, constantly shifting between a deep blue and a gleaming silver, seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. Her hair fell in countless waves of darkness and light, as though reflecting the sky itself, with a single, striking silver strand flowing through it like a hidden river.

  Nyxara was not like the other beings of the Underworld. She did not belong to the demon lords, whose titles were mere tools of power, nor to the fallen angels, who yearned for redemption. She was… something else. Something that ruled not only over death but also over life and the darkness between worlds.

  “The night has its own order,” she murmured as she sat at the edge of an old, broken throne. It was not the throne of a king or a god – it was the throne of the Forgotten, one that no longer radiated power. But to Nyxara, it was the only throne that had ever held meaning.

  The world had always craved the strongest – the gods who ruled over life and death. But she knew something most of the mighty couldn’t even imagine in their wildest dreams: Power was nothing but an illusion. The gods, the immortals, the lords of Hell – they were all transient beings, fated to be devoured by the darkness. No one was worth more than a lowly demon once the eternal shadow claimed them.

  “The gods believe themselves untouchable,” Nyxara whispered, a glimmering smile dancing across her lips. “Even gods turn to dust. I’ll make sure they remember that.”

  She had not ascended to the Throne of Night out of a lust for power – she had done so to bring an end to what had held the world in chains for far too long. The belief that gods and lords of Hell could rule over life and death unchallenged was, in her eyes, a crime against all that was true and just.

  And so she sat in silence, listening to the echo of the Forgotten that resonated endlessly through the shadows, ready to pursue her next goal. Her journey was far from over, but she knew the first step had been taken.

  The first step had been the death of the greatest god of all. The beginning of the endless dusk, in which Nyxara would claim true power for herself.

  She planned to challenge him at the next full moon, for every moon strengthened her, and under a full moon, she was at her most powerful.

  “This will be the proof of my purpose,” she said with determination.

  She had trained for years for this task, alongside many beings that others would have considered foolish allies. But for Nyxara, it wasn’t power that had drawn them to her – it was the friendship and acceptance she had never received from gods or powerful beings.

  She wanted to prove that even the mightiest could be as weak and pitiful as those they looked down upon and ridiculed. But… would she succeed?

  That was a question she remained uncertain about, yet she hoped. She had long searched for allies for her great mission… and she found them among those the world deemed weak and unworthy. And yet, they had achieved great things – and Nyxara would show everyone the truth of what her allies – and she herself – were capable of.

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  Soon, she would meet with them to discuss the next plan. Her closest confidant and dearest friend would lead the next mission, while Nyxara would travel alone for the first time…

  Because she needed the Seven Artifacts of Order, to weaken their power in the final battle – one day to be fought against the Primordial Being of Chaos.

  First, she aimed to find the Sword of Unmadness and claim it for herself…

  It could not be destroyed or taken from the hand of its true wielder, and the sword was known for its ability to block chaos magic and end instability.

  It lay deep within an almost unexplored labyrinth in the Lost Realm of Hell. Forgotten even by Lucifer… yet its creator was unknown.

  However, Nyxara had a suspicion as to who it might have been – a being as mysterious, powerful, and wise as the Angel of Knowledge.

  And to obtain it, she had to prove herself worthy…

  Unfortunately, no one had proven worthy in eons, and since the last wielder perished, the sword had never been seen again. Only a few records remained in the Infinite Library…

  At that moment, a dark figure stepped out of the shadows – a familiar, mischievous silhouette.

  It was Oliver, her closest confidant and dearest friend – a small imp with a playful demeanor that masked his unwavering loyalty and sharp mind.

  Although he was often underestimated due to his size, Nyxara knew better. Oliver had stood by her side for years, ever since she began challenging the old order.

  “Nyxara,” he whispered with a soft but confident voice, “are you ready?”

  Nyxara turned to him, her eyes shifting between blue and silver. A knowing smile appeared on her face.

  “Ready? I’m more than ready. But you, Oliver, will have to lead the next coup while I search for the sword. You know how important this is. You've prepared for this. You'll make sure the others don’t hesitate while I’m gone.”

  Oliver’s golden eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “You always knew how to keep things interesting. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. But… just don’t get yourself killed out there, okay?”

  She laughed softly, a sound like distant bells echoing in the endless void of the Underworld.

  “You know me better than that. I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

  He grinned, but his gaze grew gentler as he looked at her.

  “You’ll need every bit of luck you can get, but… you’ve got more than luck on your side, Nyxara. You’ve got the darkness itself. And me.”

  Her smile widened.

  “And that’s why we’ll succeed, Oliver. Together, we’ll make the world remember who truly holds the power.”

  Oliver bowed briefly and respectfully before vanishing back into the shadows, his form blending seamlessly into the darkness around them. Nyxara turned away from the throne, her thoughts already focused on the path ahead.

  The Labyrinth awaited her. Somewhere within its winding, uncharted corridors lay the Sword of Unmadness. And she would not rest until it was hers.

  Nyxara slowly rose from her seat, the shadows around her beginning to flow, as if watching her every move. The old, broken throne that had once symbolized power now appeared as a forgotten relic in the center of nothingness. But for Nyxara, it was more than that. It was the origin of her purpose – the beginning of a great upheaval.

  “There’s still so much to do,” she murmured quietly, yet a determined spark lit her eyes.

  The moon would soon be full again, and with it, her power would grow. The time had come to take the first steps toward fulfilling her goal.

  The plan was clear.

  The Sword of Unmadness was a key – an artifact that could not only tame chaos, but transform the instability of the world into something structured and powerful.

  But to find it, she would have to traverse the Labyrinth of the Lost Realm – a place even the wisest and most powerful beings of Hell avoided.

  Nyxara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her thoughts drifted to the sparse records she had found in the Infinite Library of the Forgotten.

  Every word from those ancient tomes had pulled her deeper into the mystery. The place where the sword was hidden wasn’t just dangerous – it was surrounded by a history that even the greatest helllords hesitated to touch.

  “It’s a long road ahead,” she thought, “but I will not falter. Not this time…”