Zephyr Crowne stood at the edge of the Abyssal Guild's courtyard, the great sprawl of the arcane city of Vaelthar stretching out before him. The sun hung low in the sky, its light casting long shadows to stretch out like grasping fingers across the ground of rounded cobblestones. The air hummed with the vibrant energy that wove right through his bones, reminding him of the power now running deep inside his core. And yet, wrapped within that excitement of the power was a worm of unease, gnawing and gnawing.
It had been a week since his pact with Kael'thar's, a Tier 1 Eldritch Being, and the new shadow-manipulating ability was proving invaluable in training with other Conduits. He really was astonished with how well one could melt into darkness and shape it at will. That was intoxicating-until you stared into the abyss of self-doubts.
"Hey, Zephyr!" he suddenly heard a voice say, cutting through his reverie. It was Mira, one of the other Initiates of the Abyssal Arcana. The sun shone at an angle on her long silver tresses, and her bright green eyes were alight with enthusiasm. "You coming to the training grounds? They're testing advanced rune applications today!"
"Yeah, I'll be there in a second," Zephyr said, forcing a smile as he turned toward her. Mira's cheer was contagious, and it also set him somewhat at ease. Mira had always been a constant friend since the time they joined the Guild, never afraid to encourage Zephyr into embracing his powers.
"Don't leave us in suspense! I want to see those shadow tricks!" she teased, guffawing so musically that her laughter still lingered in the air.
He nodded, his eyes bright, but in his heart he felt heavy. What was it that he bragged about again? The shadows were strong, yes, but tainted somehow. Every time he called upon Kael'thar's essence, a piece of his humanity was slipping away, replaced by something darker, whispering promises of greater power and influence. The effect was intoxicating, but at what cost?
Mira had walked away, her heart heavier than a stone, while Zephyr squared his breath, his heart buckling at the tide of uncertainty. He had heard enough of this vow to protect the people he loved-to never be helpless when faced with evil. All that power came with a price: would he turn into the monster he swore to fight?
He shook his head and went off toward the training grounds. The yard was alive with action: Initiates honing their craft, Masters overseeing the sessions. The smell of magic and sweat wafted through the air, every now and then broken by the laughter and cheeriness that carried over the distance. This place should be filled with joy, yet to Zephyr, it felt just like the battlefield-a war between his desires and his fears.
As he approached the training area, he saw Kieran, one of the oldest and most experienced Conduits, showing off highly developed methods of shadow manipulation. His body moved fluidly, like the shadows dancing to his tune. Zephyr watched, fascinated yet a little intimidated. Kieran had always been one of the best in their cohort, and Zephyr felt the comparison weigh upon him.
"Crowne!" Kieran shouted, flashing a grin toward where he entered. "You're here! Come on, then, show us your stuff!"
A cheer rose from the assembled, and Zephyr's heart was racing. How could he live up to that expectation? He stepped forward; the whispers inside his head were louder now, begging him to give himself to the shadows fully. He drew a deep breath and called his power, feeling Kael'thar's essence well up inside him.
The shadows curled about his feet, crawling up his legs in a tenuous cloak. He turned his gaze around him, focusing, and the darkness pulsed with life before leaching itself into form. Tendrils of shadow reached out-stretching and twisting-into the form of a serpent. The crowd gasped in awe, and in that single moment, the fear receded, supplanted by a tide of wonder.
"Wow!" Kieran exclaimed, with a ring of respect in his tone. "But can you control it, make it obey your will?"
Zephyr smiled as the power bucked into him in huge, erratic surges. He fixed his gaze on the serpent, a will unsaid that made it twist and turn in incredibly complex ways. The shadow followed suit, worming its way through the air as if alive. Then the laughter and cheers exploded from onlookers, and in that one shining instant, Zephyr had been invincible.
But the euphoria was very short-lived. The more he drove the shadows, the more he began to feel a flicker of resistance, a hint at chaos that threatened to spiral out of his control. The serpent form began to distort and he felt the flare of Kael'thar's essence within him in warning that he was treading too close to the edge.
"Zephyr!" Mira shrieked above the din, but it was too late. The serpent of shadow struck madly, snatching and twisting as it ripped free from his grasp, and the crowd gasped in horror.
Forthwith, Zephyr reached out in desperation, trying to get it back. "No! Come back!" he yelled, but the shadow had a mind of its own, spiraling towards Kieran, who stood with a mixture of surprise and concern.
Instinctively, Kieran lifted his hand and cast a light barrier before anything was done, deflecting the shadow away. With a deafening boom, it crashed onto the ground, turning into a whirlwind of dark tendrils. The training ground fell silent. All eyes looked to Zephyr, the weight of their collective disappointment settling upon his shoulders like a shroud.
God damn it, Crowne! Kieran snarled at him. You have got to learn to control it! Shadows are too volatile, and if you let them get away from you, they could hurt someone!
Zephyr's heart fell because he had failed-failed in conquering the very element he vowed to master. Applause now turned into murmurs, for he could feel all their eyes upon him-heavy with judgment, like a thick fog. "I-I'm so sorry," he stammered out inanely.
Mira came forward, her face sympathetic. "It's all right, Zephyr. Everyone makes mistakes. You just need more practice," she said, though her words sounded shallow, putting a flimsy bandage on a deep wound.
As the crowd began to break up, Zephyr remained rigidly in place; his mind had gone numb. What if he wasn't able to fight off the shadows? What if Kael'thar's whisperings drowned out the humanness? He could feel the presence of the shadows in his body-the pact that had sealed it, a constant reminder of something. The terror of what he might turn into loomed ever larger with every passing moment.
Later, in the dead of night, he sat in his bedroom; the walls seemed to be falling in on him. Candlelight fluttered around, playing tricks of shadows that seemed to mock him with the fact of his failure. He began to pace to and fro, the echoes of the training grounds replaying in his mind.
What do you do with me, Kael'thar?" he whispered, falling onto his bed, fists clenched into the fabric. The only sound heard in room was his laboured breathing. "I never signed up to this, I wanted power to protect… not to be a monster.
Shadows danced, their whispers a caress running along his spine, causing chills. "Power is a double-edged sword, Zephyr," that echoed in his head, his voice smooth and seductive. "You can't control what you don't embrace. Join me, and you will never feel this weakness again.".
Zephyr wrenched at his head, fighting the luring pull of Kael'thar's influence. "Nein! I won't be like you!" he screamed into the darkness. "I won't give in!"
But the shadows just laughed-a cold sound that vibrated deep inside of him. "You think you can fight me? I am a part of you now, Zephyr. You can't escape your destiny.
He threw himself off the bed in a wave of determination and began to pace once more, trying to make some semblance of sense from the maelstrom churning inside. He needed to be in control. He needed to know he was stronger than the whispers. He drew in what resolve he could and opened his rune-etched journal full of his notes and sketches of his training, his thoughts—his fears.
Face your fears," he muttered to himself, remembering how Mira had urged him. "Control the shadows. Do not let them control you." And then he was writing furiously: every feeling and failure, every flutter of hope. He must confront his darkness, render it into something he could use rather than something that used him.
He poured his heart onto the pages for hours; the shadows around him bucking and twisting in fascinated response to his resolution. The stillness came over him now as he wrote-the whisperings fell silent-and within him grew a lightening of purpose. The shadows were not necessarily evil; they were of him, part of him, and to deny them was the denial of himself.
At last, he slammed the journal shut, his lips curving into a thin smile. "I'll master you," he articulated aloud in the dark, and felt the resolution begin to go from soft to hard inside his chest. "I won't be any pawn. I will be the architect of my own fate."
The candle gutted itself suddenly with a last flicker, and Zephyr felt the wash of peace go over him. The shadows that threatened to intimidate him just a moment before now seemed to become one with his will, the extension of it-assuredly. It was not them that were going to define him; he was going to define them.
He would be back into the training grounds tomorrow, ready to face his fears once more. He wouldn't be scared of the dark anymore; he would learn from it, and over time, he would overcome it. After all, the path to power was lined with shadows, and Zephyr Crowne wasn't going to let himself be consumed by those shadows.
He had gone to bed with a new sense of resolution; the darkness no longer threatened him but was instead a promise of powers to come.