I am Arol. I should commence my tale by telling you that I died at the age of eight, but the truth is, the former me perished as a child. A tragic event, woven into madness, altered the course of my life. It was a day that witnessed my humble village being engulfed by the flames of hell, a day when demons descended upon us like a swarm of shadows thirsty for carnage.
It happened in Cesac, within the realm of Sillak in the land of Mughorn. My little hamlet, where I played with my friends and where my mother baked the finest cakes, was once tranquil. Cobblestone streets lined with thatched-roof houses. Laughter echoed through narrow alleys, and merchants enlivened the market with their colorful stalls.
Then, joyful cries yielded to screams of terror. Demons arrived, devouring our happiness and plunging Cesac into a nightmarish darkness. Streets turned into macabre battlegrounds, where the cries of the dying mingled with the roars of demons.
The rivers that once gracefully meandered through our hamlet were now tainted red, the blood of our neighbors blending with their tranquil waters. The ground we once trod upon carelessly was scorched, blackened by the devouring flames that consumed everything in their path.
My home, where my mother once awaited me with a warm smile, was now reduced to ashes. Flames had swallowed our houses, our dreams, and the sweetness of daily life had given way to horror. At the age of eight, I stood there, a helpless witness to the transformation of my little paradise into an endless nightmare.
My entire community had been decimated, leaving only scattered corpses and smoldering ruins behind. In this apocalyptic scene, I saw him—the enigmatic being who would change the course of my destiny.
Through the thick smoke, a dark silhouette slowly took form, like a living shadow. The contours of the mysterious being seemed carved from darkness itself, a sinister presence in constant backlight. His stature surpassed that of the adults in my village, a menacing silhouette that inspired terror.
His long beard, like a cascade of shadows, added a touch of wisdom to his shadowy appearance. It undulated in the fetid air, carrying with it the aura of a being far beyond our understanding. His eyes, a deep violet, glowed like ethereal amethysts in the shadows, emitting a hypnotic and inhuman light that seemed to scrutinize the darkest recesses of my soul.
A carnivorous smile tore across his dark visage, revealing sharp teeth that seemed to illuminate the night. It was the smile of a predator, the incarnate terror whispered to disobedient children in frightening tales. His inquisitive gaze and that demonic smile haunted my thoughts, creating an image etched into my child's memory—a image forever associated with the terror of that fateful night.
He leaned over my frail body, his imposing shadow cast on the ground by the flickering light of dying flames. Terror immobilized me, locking my limbs in a freezing paralysis. I dared not move, not a muscle, in the presence of this entity whose darkness defied all understanding.
In this precarious refuge, the only place where the roof held firm, I remained cowering. The creature did not venture outside, but its piercing gaze followed me everywhere. Any attempt to flee was quashed by a mere glance, forcing me to sit, resigned to my captivity.
It was in this dark corner, where terror had forged an invisible prison, that the creature unfolded its unfathomable designs. It scratched the paper relentlessly, inscribing inscrutable rules on some kind of macabre bible. The incessant scratching of the pen had become a mournful symphony, a sinister cacophony resonating in the oppressive darkness.
I lived in a corner of the tavern where the cellar was enclosed. It was here that I found my food and drink, the meager provisions the creature had deigned to leave me. My basic needs were met, but every movement was tinged with the fear of attracting the unwanted attention of my captor.
The creature wrote feverishly, its smile growing each day. The pen knew no respite, as if driven by an insatiable supernatural force. The sound of the paper scratching filled the air, saturating my senses with palpable tension. Days stretched into a nightmarish monotony, time diluting into the darkness of this indefinite captivity.
Then, when ready, it cast a forbidden spell.
The spell sealed my mind in a quest, a quest destined to make me the hero who would one day kill him. Thus, I was bound by the Shadow Pact, a destiny forged in the flames of tragedy and sealed by obscure pacts.
The spell sealed my mind in a quest shaped by the ashes of my destroyed village. I had to become the hero destined to end his existence, to the being who had engulfed Cesac in a whirlwind of chaos. For him, the massacre of heroes, his complete victory was too much; he needed to find a worthy adversary. He wanted to lose, but in a specific way, in a singular duel against the hero he would forge.
The day the spell was cast, the sky itself seemed to scream in protest. The heavens rumbled as if magic itself forbade such a dark act. Ignoring the goddess's scream, the sinister being marked me, sealing my fate in a magical pact. The bible, filled with unfathomable rules, was consumed by flames to become the seal that now adorned my heart. The creature's slender hand touched my chest, and I felt its coldness penetrate to my soul. Terror gripped me, involuntarily eliciting a reaction I could never have imagined at that age. I wet myself. Then, in a mysterious flash, the being vanished, leaving behind an oppressive silence.
His final whisper echoed in my thoughts. "Fifty years." That was the time he granted me to emerge from the darkness and confront him. Fifty years before the inevitable confrontation would take place.
When the being disappeared, all the demons that had assailed Cesac evaporated with him, as if they had never existed. Tranquility settled in the devastated village, but it was tinged with the heavy burden now resting on my shoulders. My journey began, a path strewn with shadows and trials, with the promise of an ultimate confrontation in the darkness.