Nightborne's mind still reeled from the revelation of his sudden awakening. The news of his powers had come not at the end of the warp—as was customary—but in the midst of his struggle on this forsaken island. Shock and uncertainty warred within him as he stared blankly at the cryptic message echoing in his soul:
[You have awakened your dormant power.]
He had heard whispers of such events before, spoken in hushed tones by survivors who had endured the warp. But nothing prepared him for the moment when fate itself chose to infuse him with power while he fought for every breath. Now, in the solitary darkness of his cave, he was left with one burning question: Why had this power come to him so early? What secret did the shadows hold that would grant him such strength before his journey through the warp had ended?
Determined to understand his new destiny, Nightborne resolved to test these newfound abilities for himself. He began with the power listed as
[One with Darkness]
and positioned himself at the heart of his cave, where the ancient stones provided a dim, steady glow. The cave had long been his sanctuary—a place where he had nursed his wounds and gathered his strength. Now, it would serve as the proving ground for his metamorphosis.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the ambient darkness seep into him. "I need to be one with the night," he muttered quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper in the heavy stillness. Focusing intently on the shadows that lay dormant around him, he allowed his mind to merge with them. Almost instinctively, he stepped forward, as if drawn by a magnetic pull toward the darkness itself. At first, nothing happened—but then, slowly, the edges of his form began to blur. His body seemed to dissolve into the deep black of the cave, as if he were merging with the very essence of night.
In that surreal moment, Nightborne experienced an overwhelming sensation—a profound awareness of the darkness surrounding him. Though his eyes remained closed, he "saw" a vivid tapestry of sensations: the flutter of tiny insects disturbed by the breath of his presence, the subtle vibration of worms as they tunneled unseen through the earth, and even the distant murmur of rock shifting imperceptibly in the cold. His senses heightened to an almost supernatural degree, and he marveled at this newfound ability to perceive the world without relying on sight.
Eager to explore this power further, he opened his eyes, expecting a cascading revelation. The dim light of the stone glow revealed little change in his immediate surroundings—only his own outline seemed less defined, almost as though the darkness wrapped around him like a living shroud. Still, the sensation of being unseen, of blending perfectly into the gloom, filled him with hope. In a moment of impulsive daring, he attempted something that on any other day he would have dismissed as lunacy: teleportation by merging with the darkness. Concentrating on a spot in a deeper recess of the cave—a region devoid of light—he willed himself to disappear from his present location and reappear there.
For an interminable heartbeat, he felt nothing but the cold emptiness of suspended time. Then he realized: nothing had changed. He remained exactly where he was. The teleportation had failed—its promise unfulfilled. Yet even that failure was not without meaning. In the echoing silence of the cave, a small, instinctive certainty stirred within him. It was as if the darkness whispered that this ability, too, had potential. "Perhaps, with greater strength, I can command the shadows to transport me," he thought, his mind buzzing with the possibility. Though the attempt had ended without success, the feeling remained—a gut conviction that this ability might one day allow him to traverse the black void with but a thought.
Not content with leaving one ability untested, Nightborne shifted his focus to the next facet of his newfound power:
[Light Suppression]
He gathered a few scraps of wood and dried leaves from the island's floor and moved outside into a small clearing adjacent to his cave. The island's eternal dusk rendered everything in a soft, indistinct glow—a constant reminder of the night's dominion over all. There, under the weak illumination of a solitary campfire he had kindled with great care, he prepared a test. The flames of the fire leaped and danced, their warm orange light a stark contrast to the omnipresent dark.
"Let's see if I can bend light to my will," he murmured, stepping closer to the fire. With measured intent, he extended a hand toward the flickering blaze. Almost immediately, he sensed a change—the light seemed to recede, as if repelled by the mere presence of his power. For a few precious moments, the fire's flames grew dimmer, their radiance stifled, replaced by a muted, almost spectral glow. Nightborne watched, eyes wide with both wonder and cautious exhilaration, as the very essence of the flame transformed before his gaze.
But as swiftly as it had diminished, the campfire's brightness returned to normal once he retreated a step away. It was a fleeting effect—a brief, trembling taste of his potential—yet it confirmed that the power was real. Though unrefined, [Light Suppression] was an ability with promise; one that could, perhaps, one day cloak him in an aura that turned brilliance to shadow and rendered the world dim before his will.
Finally, after his experiments with the tangible and the immediate, Nightborne allowed his thoughts to turn inward toward the more enigmatic part of his awakening:
[Mark of Fate]
He settled onto a flat rock outside the cave, away from the disturbances of the flickering campfire. With the island's perpetual gloom enveloping him, he stared out into the endless night, trying to decipher the cryptic significance of the mark that now pulsed within his being. "Mark of Fate," he murmured. "What does it mean? Do I carve my own destiny, or am I bound to one that was forged long ago?"
The question echoed unanswered as he contemplated the implications. Unlike the other abilities, [Mark of Fate] did not manifest in any visible or tangible effect. There was no burst of light or wave of darkness—only a lingering sensation of being tethered to something vast and unknowable. It felt as though an ancient signature had been pressed upon his soul, an indelible script that set him apart from mere mortals and hinted at a destiny filled with both promise and peril. Yet despite hours of pondering, Nightborne could not grasp its full meaning. Was it a curse? A blessing? Or perhaps both—a dual-edged fate that would guide his steps yet weigh upon his spirit?
The silence deepened as the night drew on. In the quiet solitude of the island, every sound seemed magnified—the whisper of the wind rustling through the twisted trees, the soft shuffle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, and the distant hum of the island's mysterious energy. Nightborne lay back against the rough stone, feeling both the sting of his recent wounds and the electric thrill of his awakening power.
Gradually, exhaustion seeped into every fiber of his being. The experiments, the fleeting bursts of power, and the relentless questions mingled until his mind began to cloud with sleep. As he gazed upward at the blank expanse of the starless night sky, he felt the weight of destiny and the burden of his newfound abilities settle around him like a shroud. Despite the unanswered queries and the trials still ahead, a gentle peace began to replace the tumult of his thoughts. His eyes grew heavy, and slowly, as if succumbing to a long-forgotten lullaby, he whispered in a quiet murmur that almost blended with the sound of the distant wind:
"Good night."