A man stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at something in the air. A puzzle that he has tried to understand and break. Something made by what many would proclaim a genius.
Invisible, he walked around in a circle inside what the English had started calling "Stonehenge."
The person's aura coiled tightly around him. He was the last of is kind in that world. All the others had been wiped out months ago by the seal he was inspecting. It was the most powerful wave by far. Should he fail, then he would be the last of his kind. He still cursed that boy, Merlin. The boy had fought tooth and nail against his kind until he, at last, made the seal that had plagued him for millennia.
The man stopped abruptly, his eyes widening with realisation. With a smirk of triumph, it sent a small wave from its body. One by one, cracks began to show in the air. The very reality was falling apart alongside the seal. Until, with an invisible quiver, the seal disintegrated into nothingness. The man standing fell, light fading from its eyes. Doorways began lighting up, each glowing a distorted blue. The seal that had separated their worlds was no more. Humanity better be ready, for Hell has arrived on earth and no one will be there to protect them now.
It was an ordinary day when IT started. He remembered that day clearly. He was browsing the apothecary last minute for some potion or other, and the next thing he knew, he was being flung through a window by an explosion. When he hit the wall, his vision swam before he called into blissful unawareness.
Slowly, he managed to regain consciousness and blinked awake. Painfully, he climbed out of the rubble that he was stuck in. He managed to drag himself out, muttered something barely comprehensible under his breath, and walked out. The alley was burning. Dead people littered the ground. Some had been ripped in half, and some had their limbs torn off. Gruesome was the only word he could use to describe the carnage. There was fire everywhere. Corpses burned alongside buildings. He heaved as his vision swam once again. The tell-tale cracks of apparitions were the thing that managed to get him to look up. The Aurors were here.
They looked around, and somehow most of them managed to look like new recruits that had just seen their first battlefield. They were deathly pale and moved almost mechanically. Slowly, as not to aggravate any wounds, he steadied himself and helped the Aurors with what he could. Although fighting the fire seemed futile, it continued no matter what they did. They had to call in the Unspeakables as backup. They waved their wands in silence until, with hums and haws, after fifteen minutes, numbers, text, and diagrams floated in front of them. He did not understand a word of it, but they seemingly did. They had conferred with each other before the Aurors finally asked why the fire was still raging.
A cloaked figure strode forward to explain to them that the fire could be compared best to Fiendfyre. But it burnt hotter and with more intensity, and even worse, not a single Fiendfyre countering spell had managed to quench the flames. Thankfully, it didn't spread like a normal Fiendfyre. This "Hellfire" was fully controlled, and the person attacking was holding it back. This was not an attack; this was a statement of terror by an enemy they did not know to exist. A declaration of war. Hours later, he learned most of the major wizarding settlements were hit. A week later, he learnt what they were after someone stumbled upon an ancient book in some decrepit library. It was the first day of what would become known as The Demon War.
That was the month the public learned of Magical and Demons. The world took up arms. They might have been outclassed and outmatched against an ancient foe, but if they went down, humanity was going down kicking and screaming, they all had decided. The World would never be the same, for better or worse.
I own nothing.
