A week earlier, on a rain slashed afternoon, the village of Mystvale cried out in terror.
A wretched wizard descended upon it like a storm of ruin, twisting the very sky. With a single incantation, he transformed the falling rain into countless blades, raining death from above. Villagers fell where they stood, screams swallowed by the torrent. Those who resisted fought bravely, but courage alone was no match for such cruel magic. The air filled with smoke, blood, and the stench of fire, and yet the wizard did not pause. He captured three of Mystvale's strongest figures: Mayor Olsen, a master wizard sworn to the council, and the legendary warrior known only as Silent Ghost. They were bound in magic and fear, dragged into the unknown. Mystvale itself became a tomb, broken and silent, its cries echoing across the kingdom.
The news spread swiftly through Abrane. Panic followed like a shadow. King Timbrine Afgostiff, a ruler renowned for his sharp mind, understood immediately the threat this wizard posed. There was only one name that could counter such darkness: Kael of the Shadows. Whispers told of him living hidden in the forests, protected by the legacy of his parents, bound to powers older than any man dared name. The king dispatched his men, searching every glade, every grove, every forgotten path.
What they did not know was that I had already heard Mystvale's cries.
I did not move. Not yet.
Some whispered I was a myth. Others thought me a coward. Neither was true. I was preparing. A week ago, I had not been ready, not in body, not in mind, not in spirit.
The blue hour of sunset arrived, as it always did, holding the world in a fragile pause before nightfall. The lake mirrored the sky, smooth as glass, and shadows stretched long, alive and patient. During that week, Noctur and I had trained harder than ever, pushing my body, mind, and soul to limits I had not known. I had learned to speak with shadows, not command them, but flow with them. Movement through darkness became instinct. My teleportation no longer felt like travel; it became weaving through infinite threads, slipping past eyes, walls, and magic as if they were nothing.
By nightfall, I had become different.
I emerged at Abrane castle, silently, behind King Timbrine himself, standing back to back beneath the cold starlight.
"Sorry it took so long," I said. "I was training."
The king did not turn. "Honestly, I had begun to believe you would never come."
"I understand," I replied. "But everything changes tonight."
And with that, I vanished.
⸻
The entrance to Mystvale was a scar upon the land. Flames licked the sky. Villagers' bodies lay strewn across mud and shattered wood. The wizard moved through it all, not just killing, but toying. He revived the dead only to slaughter them again. He rebuilt homes only to reduce them to ash. Agony and terror were his art, and he painted with perfection.
I did not flinch. I was here for purpose, not vengeance.
I cloaked myself in shadow, but even darkness burned. The wizard had cursed the shadows themselves. Every attempt to pass through them scorched my flesh and spirit, except near the front gate. I summoned a purer, older darkness, one untouched by his malice, and moved in spirit form. That is how I found the chapel, pulsing with corruption like a heartbeat of the abyss.
Inside, the wizard sat cross legged at the altar. Floating behind him were the hostages: Mayor Olsen, Silent Ghost, and the captured wizard. Before I could act, another presence stepped forward. A figure in a purple robe and black crown, his eyes glowing with cruel intellect, cast a wave of fire toward me, roaring like a dragon's breath. I shaped the shadows into a shield, meeting the flames head on, scattering the illusion into sparks of light and shadow.
The world shifted.
We were no longer in Mystvale.
Candles surrounded us in a circle, carved with runes that glowed beneath our feet. The ritual chamber inside Abrane castle pulsed with dark power, older than any magic I had ever felt.
The purple robed figure smiled. "To those who defy me," he said, voice like ice, "I am Journo. I cast you into the flames of judgment."
He began inscribing runes into each candle as he spoke, monologuing about betrayal, power, and cleansing the world of weakness. I bowed my head, pretending surrender, and erased the runes subtly, one by one. When only one remained, I clenched my fist and changed the portal's destination before the spell could activate.
Journo raised his hand, eyes full of certainty. "I have already won," he declared.
The portal opened.
We were swallowed by shadow.
We landed in the Shadow Realm, bound, disoriented, and facing the unknown. I slipped free instantly, remaining unseen. Silent Ghost was the first to speak, demanding to know where we were. The captured wizard answered calmly, explaining the realm and recognizing who had saved them.
"Come out, Kael," the wizard said. "Erase the bindings as you did with the candles."
I stepped forward and shattered their chains with a flick of shadow.
Mayor Olsen approached, hand extended. "Kael, you have saved our lives. I cannot thank you enough."
"I have not saved the village yet," I replied.
"Then let us fight with you," he said.
The wizard studied me. "Orion Scorpio chose wisely when he bound Noctur to you."
Silent Ghost's patience snapped. "We need to return. Now."
"You are wounded," I said, flicking my fingers. Shadows leapt onto her arm, knitting flesh and bone.
She nodded. "I am not leaving without a fight."
I touched her arm, embedding a shadow blade into her soul. "You will always have a weapon now."
She smirked. "Perfect. Now let me end him."
Something stirred in my chest, unfamiliar, unwelcome. I ignored it.
We formed a plan. Journo's mind control extended over Abrane's army. I would draw attention, the wizard would free the officials, and Silent Ghost would assassinate Journo.
I moved to the castle gates alone.
Twelve thousand soldiers, five hundred knights, all under Journo's control.
Two guards blocked me. "Who are you? Leave or die."
I killed them both.
Chaos followed. Shadows swarmed, striking the soldiers from every angle. Journo sensed me and stepped onto the terrace, fury burning in his eyes.
Silent Ghost advanced through an underground path. Two ogres intercepted her. One shattered her arm, but she drove her blade through its hand, leapt onto its shoulder, and severed its neck.
Journo hurled lightning at me, but I redirected his attacks, teleporting soldiers into the path of his spells. When he sensed danger behind him, I spread my wings. Shadow tore across the sky, blotting out the stars. Darkness surged in infinite veils toward him.
His shield shattered.
Silent Ghost struck. Journo fell.
The wizard freed the king and council from the mind-spell. Abrane erupted in cheers as control returned.
Silent Ghost stood atop the terrace, holding Journo's head high. She praised God openly. I watched from above, pride stirring quietly within me. The righteous will rise, not by strength alone, but through the will of God.
She saw me and smiled.
I smiled back, then fled the field, wings carrying me into the night.
"Well done," Noctur said.
"I handled it alone," I replied.
"You did not. Christ walked with you. And that one, Silent Ghost, mirrors you more than you realize."
I denied it, but Noctur only chuckled.
I flew home, descending beneath Lake Lunia, returning to the chamber where shadows rest, and the light watches silently above.