Elias moved through the alley, his hands and arms sticky with the remnants of blood that had yet to dry. The night swallowed him whole, the weight of silence settling over his skin. He felt nothing—no satisfaction, no sorrow.
Killing his own parents, the very people who gave him life and then shattered it with cruelty, had left him blank, an empty shell. It was as if he were a hollow vessel, carrying nothing but the echoes of violence, waiting to be carved into something dark.
He was just a boy. But he was also… nothing.
The shadows pressed in around him, and he realized with a detached clarity that the darkness was the only constant he'd ever known. It never hurt him, never left him. It had always been there, silent and watchful, lingering behind every bruise and whispered insult. And as he walked deeper into it, he felt its call—an inviting pull, like an old friend welcoming him home.
A sudden gust of wind whispered past, rustling through the narrow corridor, bringing with it the faintest hint of something unknown. A figure emerged from the shadows ahead, barely visible until the dim light of the streetlamp cast a sliver of moonlight upon him.
"Go back," the man said, his voice low and gruff, a tone that could command any ordinary boy to flee. "You don't belong here."
Elias's eyes lifted, unblinking, catching the man's gaze with a hollow stare that defied his youth. He took another step forward, his small frame now illuminated just enough for the stranger to see the extent of his injuries. Blood smeared his cheek, fresh bruises painted his arms, and his shirt clung to his battered body in torn, bloodstained patches.
The man's eyes narrowed, observing the boy with a mixture of surprise and something darker—a curiosity laced with disbelief. This boy, no older than fourteen, looked like he'd been through hell itself and walked out the other side. How could someone so young, so small, be alive after enduring such brutality?
But it was the bar in Elias's hand, dripping with the blood of his past, that stilled the man's words. The boy's blank, unwavering stare held no hint of remorse or fear, only a calm acceptance of his place in the darkness.
"Who… are you?" the man asked, unable to disguise the unease that tinged his voice, even as he kept his expression firm.
Elias tilted his head slightly, as if the question held no meaning."I… don't know," he murmured, his voice a hollow whisper. "I don't think I'm anyone anymore."
The man's expression shifted as he stood frozen for a moment, staring at the boy. His gaze quickly darkened. "Nothing, huh?" A shadow of a smirk crossed his face, dark and empty. "If you're nothing, then I'll carve you into something you were meant to be. I'll shape you into the finest assassin this world has ever known, a shadow that none can escape."
Elias stood silently, his gaze unwavering. The man could sense something stirring within him—something dangerous, something sharp, but also something empty, like a weapon waiting to be forged. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. It wasn't just the boy's hollow eyes that unsettled him, it was the strange familiarity of the darkness that seemed to bleed from him, it was as if the boy was the shadow waiting to be unleased.
Elias finally spoke, his voice steady and full of something deeper. "Then make me a shadow."