The cold wind howled through the ruined city, carrying whispers of the past—screams of agony, cries for mercy, and the echoes of those long forgotten. Shadows danced under the crimson moon, stretching unnaturally as if alive, watching, waiting.
Lucien Voidheart stood at the edge of the crumbling tower, his gaze fixed on the abyss below. The city of Dravenmire had once been a thriving kingdom, but now, it was nothing more than a graveyard of memories. His crimson eyes glowed under the eerie light as he felt a disturbance ripple through the air.
Then, a voice—soft, yet laced with undeniable malice—slithered into his mind.
"Forsaken one... your path is not yet complete."
Lucien's grip tightened on the hilt of his blade. He had heard this voice before, in his past life, moments before he had been betrayed. His heart pounded against his ribs, but he did not falter.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice a measured growl.
A figure emerged from the shadows—a being cloaked in darkness, its form shifting as if woven from the night itself. Its hollow eyes burned like dying embers, and when it spoke, its voice carried the weight of forgotten souls.
"I am the one who watches, the one who whispers. You have defied fate, and yet, fate is not so easily denied."
Lucien narrowed his eyes. "Then fate will learn to fear me."
The entity chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "We shall see."
Without warning, the ground beneath Lucien cracked open, revealing a chasm of seething darkness. Tendrils of malevolent energy surged forth, aiming to drag him into the abyss. Lucien leaped back, his blade flashing as he severed the shadows, but they reformed instantly, twisting like serpents.
A battle was inevitable.
The night sky trembled as the clash began, the very air humming with raw power. Lucien's strikes were precise, cutting through the spectral foe, yet it reassembled each time. The entity's laughter echoed, mocking his efforts.
"Your strength is undeniable, but you fight against inevitability. The Throne of Shadows was not meant for you alone."
Lucien clenched his jaw. "Then I'll carve my own destiny."
Summoning every ounce of his will, he called forth a surge of dark fire, the flames consuming his blade. With a single, decisive strike, he unleashed a wave of destruction that tore through the entity, scattering it into the void.
Silence followed. The city stood still once more.
But deep within the abyss, the whispers continued, growing louder, more insistent.
Lucien sheathed his sword, turning his gaze toward the horizon. He knew now—this was only the beginning.
To be continued…
THE END