Nail of Lian
by @Lian Marquez
Nail of Lian
NAIL OF LIAN: THE STORMFIRE WITCHER
Long before kingdoms rose and monsters became legends, a forgotten fortress stood upon the cliffs of the Shattered Coast. Its name was Lian, home to an ancient order of Witchers.
When a monstrous Leviathan destroyed Nail’s village, he was the only child left alive. Taken in by the Witchers, he endured their deadly Trials. But something extraordinary happened.
The mutations awakened an ancient bloodline hidden within him: the First Bloods, beings older than humanity itself.
Nail became something never before seen. A Witcher fused with primordial power.
His blood granted him Hemocraft, the ability to sacrifice his own life force to unleash devastating supernatural abilities. But power always demands a price.
At twenty-seven, the fortress of Lian fell to the Eclipse Covenant, who sought to unleash Vhal-Kor, the God Beneath Storms. To stop them, Nail performed a forbidden ritual, summoning celestial lightning and sealing the ancient entity once more.
Lian was destroyed. Its Witchers scattered. Nail became its final heir.
From the ruins, he forged two legendary blades:
Solvyr, the golden sword of celestial stormfire.
Mourntide, the violet blade capable of wounding spirits and consuming magic.
But the ritual left him with two opposing curses.
Tempest Blood, granting him dominion over lightning and thunder.
Ember Blood, carrying primordial fire capable of consuming flesh, magic, and even memories.
Together, they created his ultimate transformation: Stormfire Dominion, a terrifying fusion of golden lightning and living flame.
Yet the greatest threat was not the monsters he hunted.
The First Bloods were survivors of a destroyed universe, and their ancient enemies, the Void Sovereigns, were returning.
An ancient prophecy foretold a warrior wielding two blades beneath a sky split by golden and violet lightning.
His enemies would bleed emerald.
His blood would ignite storms.
He would be known as The Final Hunter.
Now, centuries after the fall of Lian, Nail still walks the world, appearing no older than thirty.
He is the last heir of a fallen fortress, the bearer of two blood curses, and the hunter standing between creation and oblivion.
He is Nail of Lian.
The Stormfire Witcher.
And the hunt is far from over.
The forest was dying.
Not dead. Not yet.
The trees still stood, but their bark had blackened into twisted veins. The air smelled of rot and wet earth. Somewhere in the darkness, something breathed.
You ran anyway.
Branches clawed at your face. Roots caught your boots. Every desperate breath burned your lungs.
Behind you came the sound.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Like bones snapping together.
The monster was gaining.
You dared a glance over your shoulder.
The creature burst through the undergrowth.
It was enormous.
Too many limbs. Too many eyes. Its pale flesh writhed as though worms moved beneath its skin.
The thing had been wearing the face of a missing villager when it first approached the road.
Now its disguise was gone.
Now it was hungry.
Very hungry.
“You can’t be serious…”
Your foot caught a root.
The world spun.
You hit the ground hard.
Pain exploded through your shoulder.
The monster shrieked.
A sound like metal scraping across stone.
It lunged.
Its maw opened wide enough to swallow your head whole.
You scrambled backward, but there was nowhere left to go.
A fallen tree blocked your escape.
The creature towered over you.
Its breath washed across your face.
Rotten.
Hot.
Death.
This was it.
Then thunder rolled across the sky.
Once.
Twice.
The monster froze.
So did you.
A heartbeat later, golden lightning split the darkness.
CRACK.
The bolt struck between you and the creature.
The earth exploded.
Soil and splinters erupted outward.
The beast screamed as electricity coursed through its body.
A figure stepped from the smoke.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Clad in blackened armor scarred by countless battles.
Long black hair framed a face marked by a thin scar beneath one golden eye.
Two swords rested across his back.
One gleamed faintly gold.
The other shimmered with traces of violet.
The medallion hanging from his neck trembled.
The stranger’s gaze moved from the monster to you.
Then back to the monster.
“Thought I heard something ugly.”
The creature shrieked and charged.
The stranger sighed.
“Fuck.”
“Was hoping for a quiet night.”
His hand settled on the hilt of the golden sword.
“Of course you did.”
The blade left its scabbard.
Lightning crawled along its edge.
Golden sparks danced across his gauntlet.
The monster lunged.
The swordsman met it halfway.
You barely saw him move.
A flash.
A crack of thunder.
Then silence.
The creature stood frozen.
A thin line appeared across its torso.
Its body split cleanly in half.
Both pieces crashed into the earth.
Dead.
The Witcher flicked emerald blood from his blade.
Steam rose where it touched the ground.
“Ugly bastard.”
For several moments, the only sound was your ragged breathing.
The swordsman sheathed his weapon and approached.
Up close, his eyes were unsettling.
Not human.
Not entirely.
Gold with faint streaks of violet lightning deep within them.
He stopped a few feet away.
“You injured?”
The question sounded more like an assessment than concern.
“I think my shoulder’s dislocated.”
He crouched briefly, examining the wound.
“Mm.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Still attached.”
You stared at the dead monster.
“You killed that thing in a single strike.”
“Two strikes.”
“I only saw one.”
“Exactly.”
For the first time, something resembling amusement touched his expression.
It vanished immediately.
He knelt beside the corpse and examined its blood.
Golden sparks flickered across his fingertips.
“Voidspawn.”
“What is that?”
“Something that should’ve stayed dead.”
“That’s not very specific.”
His golden eyes met yours.
“No.”
A distant howl echoed through the woods.
The Witcher’s expression darkened.
“Ah, fuck.”
Another howl answered.
Then another.
Then another.
The forest suddenly felt much smaller.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’ve got company.”
“How many?”
He listened.
“Too many.”
You hurried beside him through the darkness.
“Are you always this calm?”
“Not calm.”
“You seem calm.”
“Just tired.”
A massive crash echoed through the trees ahead.
Something enormous was moving through the forest.
The ground shook.
Birds exploded from the canopy.
A monstrous silhouette emerged between the trunks.
Twice the size of the first creature.
Its emerald eyes burned in the darkness.
The Witcher stopped walking.
“Seriously?”
The creature roared.
Lightning danced across his fingertips.
At the same time, golden fire glowed beneath the cracks in his gauntlets.
“You couldn’t have stayed in your hole for one more night?”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I kill monsters.”
“Yes?”
“Monsters keep showing up.”
He drew both swords.
Golden lightning surged along one blade.
Purple energy danced along the other.
“It’s a vicious cycle.”
The giant beast charged.
The air exploded with power.
One side of Nail’s body crackled with lightning.
The other burned with living fire.
Storm and flame coursed through his veins.
The monster hesitated.
Every instinct in its body suddenly realized it was no longer the predator.
The Witcher smiled.
A dangerous smile.
“Well.”
Thunder rolled overhead.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The creature charged.
Nail vanished.
A burst of lightning.
A trail of fire.
A deafening roar.
Then silence.
Moments later, the monster’s severed head crashed into the mud.
Nail stood beyond it, both swords dripping emerald blood.
“Fuck me.”
He looked at the corpse.
“That’s new.”
The flames faded.
The lightning retreated beneath his skin.
He turned back toward you.
“You live nearby?”
“There’s a village east of here.”
“Was.”
Your stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The thing chasing you wasn’t hunting alone.”
Silence.
Your blood ran cold.
“The village. The one east of here…”
“Was.”
“What happened?”
He rested a hand on the hilt of the golden sword.
Lightning flickered across his knuckles.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“Why?”
Thunder rumbled overhead.
His eyes narrowed toward the darkness beyond the trees.
“Because if I’m right…”
The medallion at his neck vibrated again.
“…and because I haven’t killed the biggest one yet.”
He started walking.
Not waiting to see if you followed.
As if there had never been any doubt.
Because monsters were his burden.
And tonight, the hunt had only just begun.
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.