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**"It is said that those who die in wrath find their way back.
But not as humans."**
— From the Burned Book of the Lands
⸻
**Prologue – The Whispering Shadows**
They whispered his name before he was born.
They dreamed of him when the world was still young.
And when he fell, even the gods were silent.
⸻
**Courtyard of Elthorne Castle – Three Days Before the Fall**
The rain fell heavily on the cold stone floor of the castle courtyard. Fog crept between the battlements as two knights stood under an awning, hands on their swords.
"He is just a child. Barely fifteen," said the first, wearing the emblem of the South on his shoulder. "Yet they whisper his name like a prophecy."
"Shadow," spat the other. "As if he were the chosen one."
"He fights like one."
"He fights like a demon."
They fell silent as the castle gate opened. Two young men stepped out—one tall, broad-shouldered, his face weathered: Cayden, the king's eldest son.
Beside him: Shadow.
His gaze was calm. Too calm. He did not seem like a child, but neither like a man. Something in between. Something becoming.
"They're talking again," murmured Cayden.
"Let them," replied Shadow. "Words don't kill. But I do."
⸻
**Throne Room – Elthorne Castle**
The hall was silent. Torches burned in iron sconces. At the end of the long table sat King Halron, lost in thought. Next to him, in a high-backed chair of red velvet, Queen Elira, her eyes fixed on the parchment before them.
"He is coming," Halron said quietly. "Black is advancing. Three villages have fallen."
"Why now?" whispered Elira.
Halron remained silent for a long time. Then: "Because I broke a pact. Fifteen years ago. One that should never have been made."
Something moved in the shadows.
A growl.
Cerberax, the three-headed hellhound, lifted its heads. Its middle head stared at the king. Its eyes burned red.
"What have you done?" asked the queen. Her voice sounded broken.
"I once... sealed a gate. A gate that should never have been opened."
⸻
**Campaign – First Battle**
"There is something in the air," said Shadow. He and Cayden led a small troop through a destroyed village. Everything was burned. Blood was everywhere. The trees looked dead, despite it being summer.
"General Black was here," murmured Cayden.
The men grew restless. One began to pray.
Then—arrows.
An ambush.
Shadows moved among the ruins. Enemies in black armor, faces concealed. No war cry. No command. Only death.
Shadow drew his sword. There was no fear in him—only rage.
He stormed into the enemies like a tempest, whirling through them.
His movements were not elegant—they were wild. Animalistic.
A spear grazed his shoulder. Blood splattered. He fell back—
and Cayden was there. Held him, covered him.
"Not yet, little brother," he hissed. "Not yet."
⸻
**The Fall of Elthorne Castle**
That night, the messenger arrived. Blood-soaked. Half-dead. His lips trembled.
"They... are fallen. All..."
"Who?" asked Cayden, but Shadow already knew.
"The castle. The queen. Your sister. The king... died with a sword in his hand."
Shadow said nothing. He stared into the fire. There was no tear in his eyes—only something deeper. Something indescribable.
Later, alone, he whispered:
"I wasn't there."
⸻
**Confrontation at the Abyss**
A black sky. The edge of a cliff. Wind sharp as blades.
Shadow and Cayden stood side by side.
Before them: General Black—a towering figure in armor of dark steel. Beside him: his own warlord, the "Rend-Hound"—pale, deformed, with long, crooked swords.
"So this is how the blood of kings ends?" sneered Black. "Two children at the edge of the world?"
"We are no longer children," said Cayden.
He charged. Furious. Heroic. And futile.
A sword thrust—through the heart. Cayden collapsed.
Shadow screamed. His gaze turned black. He attacked—
struck Black in the side. Blood. Pain. A first crack.
But it was not enough.
Black lifted him effortlessly. "You are nothing. Only shadow."
And he threw him.
⸻
**The Fall**
He fell. Slowly.
Not like a human—but like a thought.
A drop in the ocean of darkness.
He saw faces in the wind. His sister. His mother.
Then nothing.
Only darkness.
⸻
**The Fortress of Shadows**
He woke up.
Not dead. Not alive.
A hall of bones, walls of black flesh. Flames burned without wood, shadows crept along the walls.
On a throne of obsidian sat a figure.
Himself. And yet... more.
Darker. Greater. Stranger.
Shädow.
"You have fallen," he said. "But not broken."
Shadow knelt. "Who are you?"
"I am what dwells within you. I am what they took from you. I am power."
"What do you want?"
"Freedom. The demon world is sealed. Open the gate.
And I will give you what you desire."
"Revenge."
Shädow rose. Flames danced on his skin.
"Then stand."
He placed a hand on Shadow's forehead. The shadows crawled into his veins. His heart beat—not alone anymore.
"Arise, Shadow."