The wind howled across the Wild Lands of the North, a barren wasteland where the snow fell thick and dark, carrying with it the weight of ancient despair. Here, the sun never truly rose, and the moon only cast a faint silver glow through the oppressive black clouds. The ground, covered in ice and jagged rocks, seemed to stretch endlessly toward a dark horizon. It was a land forsaken by life, where only the strong or the wicked could survive.
Nestled deep within this desolate landscape stood a massive fortress, its black stone walls towering over the frozen land. No banners flew from its towers, and no light shone from its windows. Only a cold, dark mist surrounded it, giving the impression that the fortress itself was an extension of the land's endless night.
Within the fortress, a council was gathering.
In the heart of the stronghold, inside a vast, dimly lit chamber, The Shadow sat at the head of a long, circular stone table. His sitting place was elevated a bit so he was looking down on the other occupants of the table. His white fur and piercing, icy blue eyes were the only light in the oppressive darkness of the room. He radiated a quiet, sinister power, his presence like an abyss that seemed to drain the air of warmth and hope. Around him sat his Children, the chosen few who served his will, each of them powerful in their own right, but all subservient to the will of The Shadow.
"Welcome, my children," The Shadow said, his voice smooth and cold, a whisper that seemed to fill the entire chamber. "It is rare that I call you all together like this… not since the time of the Great War. But there are developments that we cannot ignore."
The others seated around the table remained silent, listening intently as The Shadow continued.
"The prophecy is already in motion," The Shadow said, his sharp eyes scanning each of them as if gauging their reactions. "The Grand Lords of Narn have begun to gather..." He added with a sinister growl, "...and the Aryas are now awakening."
A low murmur ran through the gathered Tracients, their collective anxiety palpable. For so long they believe the prophecy to be a hoax, that is, until now. By
"The time has come for us to decide what must be done," The Shadow continued. "We cannot allow Narn to rise again. Not while we still have our power."
Seated around the table were eight of his most trusted children, each as dangerous and cunning as the next, and each representing different aspects of Tracient life corrupted by The Shadow's influence. They were the Children of Shadow, and their loyalty was as dark as the lands they ruled.
---
Razik, the massive Hyena Tracient, sat closest to The Shadow. His dark brown fur still showed signs of the recent battle with Darius, and his eyes were burning with barely controlled fury. He had been humiliated in battle, his pride shattered. Despite sitting in silence, the hatred radiating from him was palpable.
To Razik's left sat Morvak, the Bat Tracient, tall and thin with leathery wings folded neatly behind his back. From an angle it seems like he doesn't have wings at all. His fur was as black as night, and his glowing red eyes glinted with mockery. He glanced at Razik, smirking slightly. "If I had been in your place," he said smoothly, his voice filled with contempt, "I would have dealt with those Grand Lords personally. I wouldn't have failed so spectacularly."
Razik's hands curled into fists, his claws digging into the stone table. "Careful, Morvak," he growled through clenched teeth. "Mock me again, and you'll regret it."
Morvak's wings twitched as he smiled wider. "I doubt it, dog."
Across the table, a soft hiss echoed through the room. Verliss, the Snake Tracient, slithered in her seat, her yellow eyes gleaming. Her long, slender hands coiled as she spoke with a slow, menacing tone. "Oh, let them fight, Shadow Father," she said, her forked tongue flicking out as she grinned. "I want to see which one of them slithers away first."
Next to her, Drakkal, the Spider Tracient, clicked her sharp claws in amusement. Her 4 eyes blinked in unison as her spindly legs tapped rhythmically on the floor. "Indeed, Verliss," she chuckled, her voice unnervingly high-pitched. "Razik versus Morvak. I'd bet all my webs on the hyena, though I wouldn't mind seeing him crushed."
Trask, the Insect Tracient, chittered in agreement, his multiple limbs clicking as he folded and unfolded them nervously. "Let them destroy each other before we get to enjoy it! More fun for us."
Razik stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. His eyes burned with rage, and the energy around him crackled violently as his Arcem flared to life. "You pathetic insects think you can mock me? You'll see who gets crushed!"
Just as it seemed the situation would spiral out of control, Thagros, the Elephant Tracient, spoke up. He raised his heavy, gray trunk, his deep, booming voice cutting through the tension. "That's Enough!" he bellowed, his large ears flapping slightly as he tried to calm the rising chaos. "We're not here to fight each other. This isn't the time—"
But Razik and Morvak ignored him, both of them standing now, their mana crackling as the tension escalated further.
Morvak's fangs gleamed as he unfurled his wings. "Back down, Razik, or I'll—"
"ENOUGH!" The Shadow's voice sliced through the air like a whip, instantly silencing the room. The sheer force of his presence was overwhelming, and Razik and Morvak both froze in place, their bodies trembling under the weight of his authority.
The Shadow's icy blue eyes swept across the table, taking in each of his Children with cold intensity. "There will be no more bickering," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "There is no use fighting over what could have been. Razik is not entirely at fault for the failure."
Razik gritted his teeth but remained silent, his fists still clenched at his sides.
The Shadow continued, his tone sharp. "There is a greater power at play here. Something… or someone… is interfering."
He said this last part with a sneer, as though he already knew exactly who was behind it. There was a bitterness in his voice, a deep-seated hatred.
For a moment, the room fell silent again, the air thick with tension. Then, from the far end of the table, a figure stood, drawing the attention of the room.
It was Jarik, the Rabbit Tracient. His pink fur stood out in the dark, his long ears sticking up from under his wide-brimmed hat. His ever-present smile stretched across his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, nearly always closed. One wouldnt help but wonder what such a soft tracient like him would be doing in the midst of these dangerous beings. However, he was different. Everything about him radiated an air of mockery, even when he stood with respect.
"Forgive me, brothers and sisters," Jarik said smoothly, bowing slightly before addressing the group. "I believe our Father is right. There is no point in dwelling on Razik's… unfortunate setback."
His smile widened just a fraction as he glanced at Razik, who glared at him but remained silent.
"But let us not be discouraged," Jarik continued, his voice light and casual, as though discussing the weather. "There is still much we can do."
Jarik paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, before continuing with a slight edge to his tone. "I have a plan, one that will not only deliver the Aryas into our hands but will also give us control over Archen Land."
The other Children of Shadow turned their attention fully to Jarik, interest piqued. Even The Shadow leaned forward slightly, intrigued by the Rabbit Tracient's confidence.
As Jarik continued, a faint movement came from the last seat at the far end of the table. This seat, shrouded in shadows, was occupied by a Tracient who had remained silent throughout the entire meeting. They wore a dark cloak that concealed their features, and their presence was almost ghostly—so still and quiet that it was easy to forget they were even there.
The cloaked figure made no sound, did not move to speak, and their face remained hidden. But the weight of their presence was undeniable, a reminder to the others that there was more to this gathering than met the eye.
Jarik smiled even wider, as if sensing the interest of this mysterious Tracient, and continued outlining his plan.
---
Five days had passed since the battle at the border, and the sun now shone brightly over the capital of Archen Land, a stark contrast to the bleakness of Narn. The kingdom was vibrant with life, its towering walls and grand architecture a testament to its strength and resilience. The castle of Archen Land, known as Castle Valoria, stood at the heart of it all, its tall spires gleaming in the sunlight, and its banners fluttering in the cool breeze.
Inside the castle's grand Summit Hall, a long table had been set for a gathering of the highest importance. The room was vast, with tall windows that let in streams of sunlight, casting a golden glow over the polished marble floors. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, each depicting the great history of Archen Land—the victories in battle, the wise leaders of the past, and the legacy of the Tracient rulers who had protected their people for centuries.
At the head of the table sat King Darius, his lemon-green royal cloak draped over his muscular shoulders. His fur gleamed in the light, and the golden nose ring that pierced his nose caught the sun's reflection as he moved with regal confidence. His two brown horns were prominent and strong, symbols of both his power and leadership. His lemon-green eyes, bright and piercing, surveyed the room with calm authority.
Seated around him were the Trio—Adam, Kon, and Trevor—each wearing expressions of focus and determination. They had spent the past few days recovering, and preparing for what lay ahead. Adam, in particular, was still adjusting to the title that had been given to him—King of Narn. It felt foreign, too large for him to wear, but after his encounter with Asalan and everything they had been through, he knew it was a mantle he would have to bear.
Standing right behind Daruis at attention was Kopa the deer tracient. His antlers stood tall, and his sharp eyes showed both respect and dedication. Around the table were other high-ranking Tracients from Archen Land—all were Narn Lords by right.
When everyone had gathered and the hall fell into a reverent silence, Darius stood, his towering presence commanding attention. His bright lemon-green eyes met those of every person seated around the table, ensuring that all understood the significance of what was about to unfold.
With a voice that was both calm and authoritative, he began, "Now, let the Narn Lords Summit begin."