The iron gates of the Obsidian Keep did not just exist; they seemed to watch. The air around the jagged fortress was thick with a silence that felt heavy, a physical weight that pressed against the lungs.
Iris stood before the threshold, her silhouette framed by the encroaching mist. She reached out, her fingers pale against the rusted, midnight metal—the same gesture she had made as a terrified child.
The moment her skin touched the gate, the world shifted. The Keep exhaled a low, guttural roar that shook the very roots of the forest, and the stone walls pulsed with a dark, rhythmic life.
From the swirling gloom of the courtyard, the shadows began to coil and rise. They moved with a liquid grace, blacker than any natural night, gathering into a silent, terrifying army.
The Leader materialized from the center of the void. His form was a shifting tapestry of smoke and solid shadow, his presence radiating an ancient, cold power.
His name echoed in the chambers of her mind before he even spoke: Azryth. He was the same specter that had chased her years ago, the nightmare that had haunted her dreams.
Azryth glided toward her, his movements predatory and swift. He closed the distance until he stood directly before her, a towering figure of primordial darkness.
As a child, she had stumbled and fled. Now, Iris stood her ground. Her spine was iron, her eyes burning with a calm, silver fire that reflected the depth of her own hidden legacy.
Azryth stopped. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then, with a slow and fluid motion, the Leader of the Shadows sank to one knee.
One by one, the hundreds of shadows behind him followed, a sea of darkness bowing in perfect unison. It was a silent, absolute surrender to their bloodline.
"Lady Iris," Azryth's voice was a rasping shadow against the wind, yet it carried the weight of an eternal vow. "Our Mistress. We have waited two centuries for your return."
***
Three months passed. The silence of the Forbidden Woods was replaced by a whispering dread that swept across the Empire.
The name Regina began to appear in every marketplace, every tavern, and every aristocratic salon. She was the "Shadow Queen," the mysterious sovereign who had claimed the ruin.
In Draven's private study, the morning light felt weak and sickly. The table was littered with newspapers from across the continent, their headlines dominated by the awakening of the Obsidian Keep.
"The Sovereign of Night Rises," one read. "The Shadow Queen: Savior or Scourge?" another blared. The rumors were a wildfire that no decree could extinguish.
Darius Solvaren leaned over a map, his finger tracing the border of the Valtorien lands. "The intelligence reports are consistent. She has fortified the Keep within weeks."
"She is a witch," Eliosa hissed, her voice sharp with a desperation she could no longer hide. Her hands were white-knuckled as she gripped a newspaper bearing Regina's name.
"It is heresy of the highest order," the Saintess continued, looking at Draven. "We must declare her an enemy. We must send the Inquisition to purge that Keep of its filth."
Elarion Ironvein grunted, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "With what army, Saintess? My men won't march into a forest that eats light. They call her a Goddess, not a heretic."
Draven sat behind his desk, his face haggard. He stared at the name 'Regina' until the letters seemed to burn his retinas. He knew the truth in his marrow, but it terrified him.
"You will speak of this to no one," Draven commanded, his voice a low, vibrating warning that cut through Eliosa's frantic rambling.
He looked at each of them, his eyes dark with a mix of obsession and fear. "Not a word about Iris Valtorien disappearing into those woods. Not to the court, and especially not to the King."
"But Draven—" Eliosa began, but he silenced her with a single, freezing glare.
"The Obsidian Keep is not a ruin we can conquer with prayers or steel," he said. "If the world learns I cast her out and she became that, the Empire will blame me for its doom."
He looked back at the paper, his heart hammering. "Until we know for certain what she is, she is Regina. And Regina is a power we cannot afford to provoke."