In the Black Citadel's lower halls, where whispers were older than the stone itself, Lidow walked alone.
Ten years old, yet burdened by a weight far beyond his age. He carried it not because he wanted to — but because he was born from it. His footsteps echoed, soft but certain.
This was not childish curiosity.
This was purpose.
He reached the Obsidian Archive — a chamber sealed for centuries, once forbidden even to demons. The doors responded to him. Not because he was strong. But because his soul sang in two harmonies: light… and shadow.
Inside, the air was thick with forgotten power. Books trembled. Relics pulsed. And at the center, an old mirror — cracked, cold, alive.
Lidow stepped closer.
A flicker — his reflection twisted. He saw himself… older. Stronger. With wings of light and horns of black flame. A crown he did not wear now, but might one day.
The image vanished.
He reached out. "What… am I becoming?"
Behind him, a voice:
"Someone they fear. Or someone they follow."
Shadow.
The King of Hell stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, cloak trailing behind him like a living shadow. He did not smile. He rarely did.
Lidow didn't flinch.
"You followed me here," the boy said.
"No," Shadow replied. "I led you here."
A silence fell between them.
Then, Shadow walked past him and placed a hand on the mirror's frame. "This chamber holds echoes of our history. Mistakes. Greatness. Madness."
Lidow looked up. "Why show me now?"
Shadow finally turned to him. "Because you're not a child anymore. And because something woke up when you spoke your name last night."
Lidow's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"The realms heard you."
Shadow raised a hand — and the mirror shimmered again. This time, it showed cities trembling, monks in white robes gathering in silence, and a giant sigil in the sky: Lidow — written in ancient celestial script.
"Your name is spreading," Shadow said grimly. "And not all who hear it want to bow."
Later, in the garden where hell-blooms curled beneath obsidian trees, Lidow sat beside Valaria.
She read from an old journal. Not about war, but about skies. About stars. About peace.
He didn't speak for a long time.
Then: "If I have to fight… will I become like him?"
Valaria closed the book and looked at him.
"No. You'll become like you. But parts of him live in you. And parts of me too."
"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.
She smiled. "No. You're the best decision we ever made."
That night, as the Citadel slept, a whisper slipped through the cracks of the Nether-Gate.
Not a demon. Not an angel.
Something older.
A name spoken in reverse.
A spark of madness.
And across the sky, far beyond hell's broken moon, a new star was falling — red, burning, weeping light and shadow.
And it whispered: "He is not the only one."
The hellish sky had not known peace in centuries. Yet tonight, as Lidow slept in his obsidian chamber, something strange painted the heavens — not with fire, but with silence.
Above the Citadel, a crimson streak cut through the stars.
Shadow stood on the highest spire, arms behind his back, cloak dancing in the scorched wind. He watched it come.
It wasn't a meteor.
It was calling.
A moment later, Valaria joined him. Her silver armor shimmered faintly, still worn beneath her midnight cloak.
"You feel it too?" she asked.
He nodded. "It's not of this world. Not even from the old heavens. It's… older."
Valaria narrowed her eyes. "Do you think it's after him?"
Shadow didn't answer.
Because deep down, he knew.
Far from the Citadel — across broken mountains, dead skies, and rivers of ash — the star fell like a spear and struck the ground in silence.
No sound.
Just a quake of presence.
From the crater rose a figure.
Not a man. Not a demon. Not angel.
It was Empty.
A shell of celestial stone, glowing cracks across its chest, and inside — nothing but whispering light and devouring shadow. Its face had no mouth. But it spoke.
"The Balance has broken.
One walks in two worlds.
We must correct."
It began to move.
At dawn, Lidow stood at the training grounds, blade in hand, eyes closed. He had started waking earlier. Before his father. Before the guards.
He was learning control.
With a deep breath, he split his palm.
Not out of pain — but practice.
Black and white energy pulsed from the wound — a chaotic storm. He willed it to stillness.
And it obeyed.
Not because it was weak.
Because he was stronger.
Then he opened his eyes — and saw her.
A young woman, clad in violet robes, leaning casually on the gate's edge. Not a soldier. Not a citizen.
A stranger.
"You must be Lidow," she said. "Son of War. Son of Light."
"Who are you?" he asked, blade raised.
She didn't flinch. "My name's Nyla. I was sent here to warn you."
"Warn me about what?"
She looked at the sky. "Something's coming. Something sent to erase you."
That same hour, Shadow stood in the war chamber with Valaria and his two generals. One a horned demon wrapped in steel. The other a former lightbearer with wings of ash and gold.
A map of the realms hovered before them, burning at the edges.
"We have incoming," the demon general said. "Unknown origin. Not from the gate. Not summoned."
Valaria stepped closer. "Do we know what it wants?"
Shadow spoke quietly.
"Yes. It wants our son."
The room darkened.
"We prepare for war," Shadow said. "But this enemy… it's not like before."
He looked toward the black horizon where the star had fallen.
"It doesn't come to conquer. It comes to cleanse."
Lidow walked beneath the dying sky, a blade at his side and Nyla just a few paces ahead. The obsidian cliffs behind them shimmered faintly with heat, as if the land itself feared what lay beyond. Every step away from the Citadel felt heavier, like some invisible weight pressed against him.
"Why now?" Lidow asked, not for the first time. "Why would something wait ten years to come for me?"
Nyla glanced back, her violet robes trailing in the wind. "Because you weren't ready. You were… incomplete."
"Incomplete?" he echoed. "I'm both shadow and light. My father is the King of Hell. My mother is—"
"A traitor to the heavens," she finished coldly. "Which makes you the fracture. The paradox."
Lidow looked away. "And that's enough to send something to destroy me?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she led him to a clearing — barren and scorched, save for a single altar made of white stone, glowing faintly.
"This was once a gate," Nyla said softly. "To the Celestial Core. Sealed when the heavens broke their pact with the hellborn. But tonight, it will speak again. Because they want to speak to you."
Lidow frowned. "They?"
Before she could answer, the altar pulsed — a cold blue flame flickering from its center. The air turned sharp, like it was being sliced open. Then a voice emerged, as ancient and vast as the void itself.
"Lidow, child of war and mercy…
You should not exist.
And yet, you do.
Do you know what that makes you?"
He stepped closer, drawn in despite himself. "What?"
"A threat. Or… a hope.
Your soul is the fulcrum of all things.
One step to either side, and the worlds will bleed."
The flame twisted, forming images — his father destroying the Lightborne armies, his mother choosing Shadow over Heaven, himself… floating above a city, too powerful to be stopped.
"You will be hunted. Betrayed. Loved. Hated.
You will bring ruin or rebirth.
But only if you survive."
Lidow took a deep breath. "Then let them come. I'll survive."
The flame dimmed. "Then awaken what sleeps within."
Suddenly, pain surged through him — not from outside, but from within. Shadow and light clashed in his blood, rising in fury. His eyes glowed silver and black, veins lit with celestial fire. He screamed — but it wasn't fear. It was power.
The ground cracked around him.
Wings of shadow burst from his back. But not alone.
On the left: pure black. Feathered, demonic.
On the right: burning gold, radiant and angelic.
Nyla took a step back, eyes wide. "You… you're no child anymore."
And somewhere far away, in the heart of the dark throne room, Shadow jolted upright.
"He's awakening," he whispered.
Valaria looked up from the balcony. "Our son?"
Shadow nodded, a storm in his eyes. "He's not just our legacy… he may be our undoing — or our redemption."