Writting perspective change from eran to protagonist


    "Hours ago, I was laughing with my father, tossing stones by the river, the water glinting gold in the sun, when demons tore through the silence, claws gleaming as they lunged at us. I thought it was nothing—Father’s strength was unshakable, his axe a blur—but the fight turned brutal. The air stung with sulfur as demons fell, their blood soaking the dirt, yet my parents crumpled too, shielding me with their last breaths. I collapsed before their bodies, sobs choking me, the ground cold under my knees, until a demon’s roar snapped me back—its jagged fangs aimed for my throat. I froze, helpless, certain I’d die too, but as its claws slashed again, a mark on my neck flared hot—scorching, alive. Power surged through me, fearless and wild, like I’d never known. My hand twisted, folding into a blade of shimmering paper, and I struck—faster than light, a blur of rage. The demon crumpled, lifeless, at my feet. I dropped to my knees, vision flickering, chest heaving, as a towering six-foot figure strode toward me through the haze. Then darkness swallowed me whole.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    When I opened my eyes, a dim room greeted me, a lone candle flickering in the corner, casting jagged shadows on the stone