The night draped its heavy veil over the desolate expanse, cloaking the ruins of a once-proud kingdom in an eerie silence broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through shattered stones. Amidst the debris, Alexander lay still, his form blending seamlessly with the darkness, as if an extension of the forsaken land itself.
Through the haze of unconsciousness, Alexander's consciousness stirred, a flicker of awareness igniting within the depths of his being. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that burned like twin embers in the dim moonlight, reflecting centuries of sorrow and betrayal.
A groan escaped his lips, the sound raw and primal, as he struggled against the weight of his own broken body. Every movement sent a jolt of agony coursing through his veins, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of pain.
The ground beneath him was slick with rain and blood, the scent of decay hanging heavy in the air. Jagged stones pressed against his flesh, drawing forth fresh rivulets of crimson that mingled with the rain-soaked earth below.
With trembling hands, he reached out, fingers tracing the rough edges of the crumbling ruins that surrounded him. The stone seemed to pulse with a faint energy, a lingering echo of the power that once coursed through the veins of this fallen kingdom.
Memories flooded his mind like a torrential downpour, threatening to drown him in their wake. He had been a prince once, born into a lineage of rulers whose names were whispered with reverence throughout the land. But power had a way of corrupting even the noblest of intentions, and his kingdom had fallen prey to the insatiable hunger of ambition.
Betrayed by those closest to him, Alexander had been cast into the depths of oblivion, condemned to wander the shadowed halls of his own shattered memories. Time had lost all meaning in that void, its passage marked only by the slow erosion of hope and the relentless march of despair.
But now, something had awakened within him, a primal instinct that refused to be silenced. With each labored breath, he felt the fire of determination burning brighter within his chest, fueled by the embers of a vengeance long denied.
The night was alive with the echoes of forgotten whispers, the mournful howl of a distant wolf serving as a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked beyond the crumbling walls. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms, as he steeled himself against the encroaching tide of despair.
Rising to his feet, Alexander stood amidst the ruins, his silhouette a stark contrast against the backdrop of moonlit decay. The time for mourning had passed; now, he would reclaim what was rightfully his and unleash his wrath upon those who had wronged him.
With each step, the memories grew clearer, a tapestry of betrayal and anguish woven into the very fabric of his being. He would not falter, not now, not ever. For he was the bringer of shadows, and his awakening marked the beginning of a new era of darkness.
As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the land, Alexander stood tall amidst the ruins, a solitary figure bathed in the fading moonlight. And as the world trembled at his feet, he knew that his journey had only just begun.
But little did he know, lurking in the shadows, unseen and unheard, was a darkness far greater than any he had ever known. And as he took his first steps towards vengeance, he unknowingly stepped into a web of intrigue and betrayal that would threaten to consume him whole.