The night was alive with shadows. The twin Moons illuminated the sky in a silver and grey shine but it's light barely piercing the canopy of the Eldorysian forest.
Beneath the boughs of ancient trees, a lone figure moved swiftly, his breath misting in the cold air. His boots crunched on the frost-covered leaves, though he tried to keep silent. Behind him, the forest seemed to watch. Every shadow was a pair of eyes, every rustle a threat.
"Almost there," the man muttered his voice hoarse and raspy. He clutched a bundle of parchment close to his chest, its edges worn and frayed. It had the seal of the Faith of the Pointed Star—a golden wax star.
The paper contained words that may change the course of history and humanity alike.
A low growl echoed through the trees, deep and guttural. The man froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his dagger. He knew what hunted him.
"Shades," he whispered, a curse and a prayer in one breath. "May The Star show me his light."
From the darkness, a shape emerged—tall, lean, and draped in shifting shadows. Its eyes glowed an eerie green, and its claws gleamed like obsidian in the moonlight.
The man stopped as the shades surrounded him. He unsheathed his dagger ready for a fight if it came to it. "What do you want you foul creatures."
The air grew colder as the Shades closed in from all sides. Their forms unstable yet were no less terrifying. Their glowing eyes locked onto the man and the parchments. The beings all let out a small chuckle seeing the dagger in the man's hands.
The lead Shade stepped forward, its voice a distorted hiss that seemed to echo from every corner of the forest.
"The parchment, mortal."
The man's heart pounded in his chest at the verge of breaking out, He glanced over his shoulders there least four Shades were present. His grip on his dagger tightened, though he knew it do little against them.
"Y-you'll have to take it from me!"
The creatures looked at him for a moment and lunged at him.
The man darted to the side, his boot skidding on the frost covered ground. The parchment almost slipped from his hand, but he held on to it. Before long another Shade slashed at him from a tree. The man narrowly dodged it as he ducked just in time.
"You cannot escape us, mortal," the lead Shade hissed, its voice an icy whisper in his ear.
The whisper distracted the man and then he tripped. Before he could regain his composure a Shade appeared from behind and slashed his back. The man yelped in pain as he grabbed the parchment but the venom from the slash prevented him from moving.
"This parchment isn't meant for you," he growled, his voice steady despite the fear and sheer pain clawing at him. "It's meant to stop what you serve."
The Shade laughed, a sound that made the air around him grow heavier. "You think yourself a savior? You are nothing but a pawn, and pawns do not survive the game."
The man in a last ditch effort to save the parchment from getting into the wrong hands uses all his strength to grab the paper and throw it down the narrow ravean.
The parchment spiraled through the air, its golden seal catching the faint light of the twin moons as it disappeared into the ravine below. The Shades shrieked in unison, their guttural cries echoing through the forest as their prey's desperate gambit succeeded.
"You fool!" the lead Shade hissed, its glowing green eyes blazing with fury. "Do you even understand what you've done?"
The man turned his almost paralyzed body and managed a weak but defiant grin. Even after the venoms ravaged his body from the inside he was nonetheless defiant.
"You've only delayed the inevitable," the Shade snarled. "It will be found, and when it is, no one can stop what is coming."
The man tried to respond but his body gave in. The venoms cold grip slowly stopped his breathing and his heart. He could feel his life leaving him but he was hoped the parchment would reach the right hands soon enough.
As the life left him, the Shades dispersed into smoke and made their way back to their master.
***
The bells of Liberty city rung to signal the end of the night and beginning of the morning. A man wearing nill but a top hat, a finely polished pair of shoes and a black suit walked the streets.
Victar Willeam.
Under this polished display of fashion was a young man in his early twenties, green eyes like emerald and black hair with a streak of white and gold on the front. He was a handsome man most women would agree.
The streets were already stirring with life as the first rays of dawn painted the cobblestones in hues of gold and grey. Vendors prepared their stalls, hawkers called out their wares, and the aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the morning fog.
Victar wasn't just any ordinary gentleman striding through the morning streets. Beneath his sharp attire and confident stride lay a reputation— Leyu Sungartas was his real name, an exiled prince.
As Victar strolled through the bustling streets of Liberty City, his polished shoes clicking against the cobblestones, his mind was anything but at ease. The morning light might have painted the city in hues of gold, but to him, it felt like a gilded cage.
The chatter of vendors and the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths' hammers filled the air, but Victar's focus was on the whispers he had caught the night before—rumors of strange happenings in the Eldorysian Forest. Shadows that moved of their own accord. Men who vanished without a trace. And most intriguingly, a missing artifact said to bear the seal of the Faith of the Pointed Star.
He tightened his grip on the silver-tipped cane he carried, more a weapon than an accessory. As much as he despised the Faith for what they had done to his family, anything tied to them warranted his attention. If the rumors were true, the artifact could hold the key to unraveling the power they wielded over the empire that had cast him out.
A voice broke through his thoughts. "Leyu."
Victar froze, his emerald eyes narrowing. No one called him that name here, not unless they knew his past. Slowly, he turned to see a woman leaning against the doorway of a modest bookshop. She wore a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat, her face partially obscured by its shadow, but the sharpness of her features and the glint in her violet eyes and were unmistakable.
"Silvanna," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"And yet here I am," she replied, stepping closer. Her voice was smooth, but there was a note of urgency beneath it. "We need to talk."
"Do we?" Victar raised an eyebrow. "The last time we 'talked,' you left me to face a firing squad."
"Well you're alive," she shot back, her lips curving into a smirk. "A testament to your resourcefulness. But I'm not here to relive old grievances and grudges. This is about the Faith—and something they've lost."
Victar's eyes flickered with interest, though he kept his expression neutral. "Go on."
Silvanna glanced around, ensuring no one was within earshot. "Word is, a courier from the Faith was intercepted in the Eldorysian Forest. He was carrying a parchment—something they desperately want back. It's said to contain instructions for a ritual, one that could... shift the balance of power."
Victar's mind raced. A ritual? The Faith's power was rooted in their control over the divine narrative of the Pointed Star. If this parchment could undermine that...
"And where is this parchment now?" he asked, his voice having a bit of impatience.
Silvanna shook her head. "No one knows. The courier threw it into a ravine before the Shades got to him. But it's only a matter of time before they—or worse, the Faith—retrieve it."
"Why are you telling me this?" Victar asked, narrowing his eyes. "What do you gain from involving me?"
Silvanna's smirk faded, replaced by a rare seriousness. "Because if the Faith gets that parchment back, they'll use it to cement their stranglehold over the empire—and your chances of reclaiming your throne will disappear entirely."
Victar tilted his head and looked at her with a confused stare.
"And... Why should that bother me?" he asked. "The Faith largely has no impact on me and in The Empire of the Sun we follow the Sun Sovereign."
Silvina narrowed her eyes as she got of the wall and leaned in to Victar. "The Faith supports you're brother Aleric to be Emperor and take the Throne of the Sun."
Victar looked at her, confusion and concern evident on his face. "Isn't Grisha the heir after me?"
Silvanna's expression hardened, her violet eyes narrowing as she studied Victar's reaction. "Grisha was the rightful heir, yes," she said, her voice low. "But things have changed. Aleric has gained the Faith's favor—an alliance that could sway even the staunchest traditionalists in the Empire of the Sun."
Victar frowned, his grip tightening on his cane. "The Faith of the Pointed Star meddling in the politics of the Sun Empire? That doesn't sound like them. They're too entrenched in their own dogma to concern themselves with foreign thrones especially of the Sun Empire."
Silvanna's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Times are changing, Leyu. The Faith's power isn't what it once was—not with whispers of dissent spreading like wildfire and their hold over the people slipping. They're desperate to consolidate their influence. Backing Aleric as Emperor is a calculated move to secure their foothold in the world's largest and most powerful empire. And if they succeed, your chances of reclaiming what's yours will be as good as ash."
Victar exhaled sharply, his mind racing. Aleric? The brother he had once trusted? The one who had whispered promises of loyalty before the betrayal that led to his exile? The thought was both infuriating and oddly unsurprising.
"And this... parchment," he said, his tone measured. "If it's so critical to the Faith, why involve me? Surely you have your own web of agents and informants to handle it."
Silvanna sighed, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting someone to eavesdrop. "Because I need someone they won't suspect. You're the perfect wildcard. The Faith already considers you a nonentity, a failure. They won't see you coming."
Victar's lips curled into a smile. "Flattering."
"I'm not here to flatter you, Leyu," Silvanna shot back, her tone sharp.
"I'm here because time is running out. If the Shades—or worse, the Faith itself—retrieve that parchment, it's over. Not just for you, but for anyone who dares to resist their dominion."
Victar considered her words in silence, the morning bustle of Liberty City fading into the background. He hated being a pawn in anyone's game, but the idea of Aleric sitting on the Sun Throne, backed by the Faith, was a bitter pill to swallow. And if this parchment truly held the power to disrupt the Faith's plans...
"Fine," he said at last, his voice steady. "I'll find your parchment. But when this is over, Silvanna, I expect answers. All of them."
Her smirk returned, though it was softer this time, almost genuine. "If you live to see the end of it, Leyu, I promise you'll have them."
"When are we going?" Victar asked.
"Tomorrow midday, don't forget the rivolver i gifted you," Silvanna said with a sly smile as she left.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Victar alone with his thoughts—and the weight of what he had just agreed to.