Pain.
That was the first thing Lucien felt when consciousness crawled back into his mind.
Sharp, throbbing pain radiating from his wrists, his shoulders, his ribs. Every breath burned. Every heartbeat echoed like a drum inside his skull.
He tried to move.
Metal scraped against stone.
He was in chains.
His eyes cracked open, vision swimming. The world above him was dark but not the darkness of night, no, something deeper, heavier. A sky the color of old bruises, swirling with clouds that moved too slowly, like oil spreading across water.
He was being dragged.
His body scraped across broken cobblestones, jagged edges tearing at his clothes, his skin. Blood smeared the ground behind him in thin, dark trails.
Ahead, the Shadow Knight walked with steady, unhurried steps. One gauntleted hand gripped the chain binding Lucien's wrists, pulling him forward like a hunter dragging prey.
Lucien tried to speak. His throat was raw, his voice barely a whisper.
"Where... where am I?"
The knight didn't stop. Didn't turn.
"Home," it replied, its distorted voice echoing through the empty streets. "Or what remains of it."
Lucien's vision cleared enough to see.
And his heart stopped.
Buildings rose around them... crumbling, ancient, covered in vines of black thorns that vibrated faintly with sickly green light. The architecture was unmistakable: Ottoman arches, Byzantine domes, stone walls etched with Arabic calligraphy now cracked and faded.
Jerusalem.
But not the Jerusalem he remembered. The Jerusalem from the history he learned recently...
The streets were empty. Silent. The smell of rot and ash hung thick in the air. Shadows moved in the alleyways... shapes that were almost human, but wrong. Hunched. Twisted.
One of them turned its head as they passed, revealing hollow eyes and a mouth full of broken teeth. It hissed, then shambled away into the darkness.
Lucien's breath quickened. "What... what happened here?"
The Shadow Knight pulled him forward without answering.
They passed through what might have once been a market square. Stalls lay overturned, their goods long since rotted away. A fountain stood at the center, its water black and stagnant, reeking of decay.
And everywhere... everywhere... there were monsters.
Ghouls crawled along the walls, their pale skin stretched tight over bone. Goblins crouched in doorways, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. An orc stood guard at the corner of a building, massive and still, its armor rusted but functional.
None of them moved.
They simply watched as the Shadow Knight passed, heads turning in unison, like puppets on strings.
Lucien's stomach churned.
"They... obey you," he whispered.
"They obey the Order," the knight corrected. "As all things here do."
It stopped suddenly, turning to look down at Lucien. The broken portion of its helm revealed that single pale blue eye, cold and unreadable.
"You will too," it said quietly. "Soon, you will be one of us. And finally... everything will return to order."
Lucien stared up at the knight, confusion and fury warring in his chest.
"One of you?" he rasped. "I'll never..."
"You will." The knight's voice was almost gentle. "The Master will make sure of it."
It turned and resumed walking, dragging Lucien behind.
Lucien wanted to fight. To scream. To refuse.
But his body wouldn't obey. He had nothing left.
High above, on the crumbling rooftop of a half-collapsed tower, a figure watched.
It stood on two legs, tall and broad-shouldered, its form humanoid but distinctly wrong. White fur covered its body, thick and pristine despite the filth of the city below. Its hands... clawed, powerful... rested against the edge of the roof as it crouched low, yellow eyes fixed on the Shadow Knight and its prisoner.
Osman Dervis.
Once a soldier... and once a man.
Now... something else.
He had seen the Shadow Knights drag prisoners through the city before. Most were dead within hours, thrown to the monsters or consumed by the corruption that seeped through every stone of this cursed place and turned into monsters.
But this one was different.
The knight was being careful with him.
Osman's ears twitched, catching the faint sound of the knight's voice carried on the wind.
"Soon, you will be one of us."
His eyes narrowed.
They wanted him alive. They wanted him intact.
Which meant he was important.
And if the shadows wanted him...
Osman bared his teeth in something that might have been a smile.
...then perhaps he should take him instead.
He moved.
Silent despite his size, Osman leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his claws finding purchase on stone and wood with ease. He kept pace with the Shadow Knight below, tracking its path through the ruined streets.
The knight turned down a narrow alley, pulling Lucien into the deeper shadows.
Osman followed.
He dropped to a lower roof, muscles coiling. Waited.
The knight paused at the mouth of the alley, its helm tilting slightly as if sensing something.
Now.
Osman launched himself from the rooftop like a bolt of white lightning.
He crashed into the Shadow Knight with the force of a cannonball, claws raking across its armored shoulder... the same shoulder Mira's bullet had torn open. Black ichor sprayed across the stone walls.
The knight staggered, releasing the chain.
Lucien collapsed to the ground, gasping.
The Shadow Knight spun, drawing its blade in one fluid motion. "You."
Osman snarled, crouching low, claws spread. His yellow eyes burned with intelligence, with purpose.
The knight lunged.
Steel met claw in a burst of sparks. Osman twisted aside, using his speed to stay out of reach, striking at gaps in the armor whenever they appeared. His claws found the wounded shoulder again, tearing deeper.
The knight hissed in pain... or was it anger? ...and swung its blade in a wide arc.
Osman ducked under it, seized Lucien by the chains still binding his wrists, and ran.
"Stop!" the Shadow Knight roared.
But Osman was already gone, bounding up the side of a building with Lucien slung over his shoulder. His claws dug into stone, propelling them upward with terrifying speed.
Behind them, the knight's voice echoed through the streets, sharp and commanding.
"Hunt them! Bring the prisoner back alive!"
The monsters stirred.
Ghouls screeched and scrambled up walls. Goblins poured from doorways. The orc bellowed and charged, its footsteps shaking the ground.
Osman didn't slow.
He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the city a blur beneath him. Lucien's vision swam, his body jostled with every landing, but he couldn't speak, couldn't think.
Only one thought remained, distant and faint:
I'm still alive.
The city ended abruptly.
One moment, they were surrounded by crumbling stone and shadow. The next, the buildings gave way to open land... a forest, dark and dense, its trees twisted and gnarled but alive.
Osman didn't stop until they were deep within the woods, far from the city's edge.
Finally, he dropped to the ground, setting Lucien down against the trunk of a massive tree. His clawed hands moved quickly, snapping the chains with surprising ease.
Lucien slumped forward, breathing hard, blood dripping from a dozen small cuts. His vision blurred again, exhaustion pulling him down.
But before darkness could take him, a voice... low, rough, but undeniably human... cut through the haze.
"Who are you to them?"
Lucien's eyes snapped open.
The white werewolf stood before him, arms crossed, yellow eyes watching him intently.
And it had spoken.