The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the walls of Dicartha. A chilling breeze swept through the air, carrying an ominous sense of foreboding. Unit 505 of the Angels stood vigil outside the fortified walls, their armored figures positioned like sentinels. They were the elite, trained to face the unknown, yet a creeping sense of unease settled among them.
"Stay alert," Sergeant Tully barked, his voice low but commanding. "We've received reports of movement in the shadows. Whatever it is, we can't let it breach the walls."
As the unit checked their weapons, a sudden shiver coursed through the ranks. The air crackled with an energy they couldn't quite place. It was a feeling of dread, a warning from their instincts that something was terribly wrong.
Just then, a figure emerged from the darkness—Zedd, the weakest of the fateweavers, clad in tattered robes that fluttered around him as if caught in a phantom wind. He walked with an eerie confidence, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. The members of Unit 505 exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of what they were facing.
"Who are you?" Sergeant Tully demanded, stepping forward. "Identify yourself!"
Zedd chuckled, a low and unsettling sound. "I am Zedd, and I am here to show you the true power of fate."
Before the words had fully left his lips, the air thickened, and the world around them warped as if reality itself was bending to his will. A blinding light erupted from Zedd's hands, coalescing into a sphere of raw energy. The Angels had barely a moment to react before he released it, sending a shockwave that tore through their ranks.
Screams erupted as the energy surged forward, overwhelming the soldiers like a tidal wave. The impact sent them sprawling, bodies flying as Zedd's power took hold. One by one, they fell, their forms crumpling like paper under the weight of an unseen force.
"Is this all you've got?" Zedd taunted, stepping over the fallen with a twisted smile. "Pathetic!"
Within moments, the once-proud Unit 505 was reduced to chaos. Men and women, trained for combat, lay defeated at his feet, their eyes wide with disbelief. Zedd reveled in their misery, his laughter echoing across the desolate landscape.
Just then, a figure broke through the night, a silhouette against the moonlight—Lancelot Van Harkon, the renowned hero and a beacon of hope, his long purple hair and white coat with the symbol of the kingdom of Dicartha by his chest. He had heard the commotion and arrived just in time to witness the carnage.
"What have you done?" Lancelot's voice thundered as he took in the scene. His blue eyes blazed with fury, and his hand instinctively moved to his sword. "You will pay for this!"
Zedd turned to face him, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Another fool eager to meet his end? Very well, let's dance."
With a flick of his wrist, Zedd summoned the shadows around him, twisting them into blades that sliced through the air toward Lancelot. The hero dodged and countered with precision, his sword glinting in the moonlight as he deflected the deadly projectiles.
But Zedd was relentless. He unleashed a barrage of energy bolts, each crackling with lethal intent. Lancelot weaved and parried, his movements a fluid display of skill and strength. He struck back, his sword cutting through the darkness, but Zedd laughed, his eyes wild with power.
"Do you truly believe you can stop me?" Zedd taunted, his voice dripping with derision. "You're just another pawn in this game!"
As Lancelot pressed forward, Zedd summoned a wave of energy, creating a barrier that surged forth, slamming into Lancelot with bone-crushing force. The hero staggered, pain radiating through his body, but he refused to yield.
"You may think you're invincible," Lancelot gasped, forcing himself to stand tall despite the overwhelming power pressing down on him. "But fate can be rewritten!"
With a fierce battle cry, Lancelot charged, channeling his own strength into a single, desperate strike. He unleashed a surge of energy, illuminating the night with a blinding light as he aimed for Zedd's heart.
But Zedd smirked, raising his hand. In an instant, reality warped around him, and Lancelot's attack fizzled out, the light extinguished like a dying star. "You think your resolve means anything to a fateweaver? I can rewrite the outcomes as I please!"
The ground shook as Zedd unleashed a final torrent of energy, engulfing Lancelot in a maelstrom of power. The hero fought against it, but the force was too great. He felt himself being pulled into the darkness, and for the first time, doubt crept into his heart.
With a final cry, Lancelot was swallowed by the void, his form vanishing into the shadows. Zedd stood among the wreckage of Unit 505, a cruel smile plastered across his face. The night air was thick with the aftermath of his power, a chilling reminder of the authority he wielded.
"Let this be a lesson," Zedd declared, his voice echoing into the abyss. "Fate cannot be escaped. It can only be bent to my will."
As he turned away from the devastation, he melted back into the shadows, leaving behind only the remnants of the fallen. The walls of Dicartha loomed in the distance, silent witnesses to the chaos that had unfolded.
And as the night deepened, the darkness grew thicker, hiding the truth of what had transpired from those who still believed in hope. But deep down, the seeds of fear had been planted, and the authority of a fateweaver had been made painfully clear.
He left the area, corpse after corpse, bloodshed all around, Unit 505's lifeless bodies in display.
Zedd cuts off Lancelot's head as a prize, writing on the walls with the hero's own blood, laughing maniacally
"Destruction is coming for Dicartha"