The alley reeked of desperation—stale ale, rotten fish, and the acrid tang of blood. *Kael Stormcloak* pressed his back against the cold stone wall, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. His fingers clutched the satchel slung across his chest, the faint hum of the Essentia crystal inside sending chills up his arm.
He could hear them. The Lunaris Elite—elite enforcers of the Crown—were closing in, their armored boots striking the cobblestones with precise, unwavering rhythm. Three of them, Kael counted from the sound. Maybe four. They were relentless, and worse, they were trained for this.
Dont use it , whispered the voice, soft but insistent, curling like smoke in the back of his mind. Not yet. If you call them now, you'll draw more than just them. You'll draw it.
Kael gritted his teeth, ignoring the voice as he adjusted the strap on his satchel. He peeked around the corner, his heart hammering against his ribs. The torches bobbed like angry fireflies in the darkness, casting erratic shadows against the crumbling brick walls. The men moved with precision, spreading out into the narrow streets like wolves scenting prey.
"Split up!" barked the leader, a tall man with a jagged scar running across his face. His voice was sharp and commanding, the kind that demanded obedience. "Search every shadow. The thief couldn't have gotten far."
Kael ducked back before they saw him, his pulse racing. His legs ached from running, and his side burned where he'd collided with a cart during his escape. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going. The satchel wasn't heavy, but the weight of the crystal inside felt suffocating, as if it was pressing down on his very soul.
Above him, a rickety iron staircase spiraled up the side of the building, its edges rusted and worn from years of neglect. It wasn't a great option, but it was the only one he had. Kael leapt, catching the bottom rung with both hands. The metal groaned in protest, and for a horrifying moment, he thought it might give way. But it held, and he hauled himself up, rung by rung, until he reached the rooftop.
The city of Eryndel sprawled out before him, its labyrinthine streets bathed in the eerie green glow of Essentia lamps. They buzzed faintly, casting an otherworldly shimmer across the jagged rooftops and uneven chimneys. Beyond the city walls, the Blackspire Mountains loomed like a row of jagged teeth, their peaks piercing the crimson sky. The twin moons hung low, one glowing pale silver, the other a deep blood red, as if the heavens themselves were warning him to turn back.
Kael paused at the rooftop's edge, catching his breath. His hands trembled as he adjusted the satchel again, the hum of the crystal within growing louder in his ears. He had to move fast, but for a moment, he allowed himself to look back.
The torches were still coming, their glow spreading like a wildfire through the dark streets. He could hear the enforcers' voices, sharp and accusing.
"Stormcloak's brat! Don't let him escape!"
Kael flinched at the name. They always spat it like poison, as if being a Stormcloak was worse than being a thief. Maybe it was, he thought bitterly. The name was a curse now, a reminder of everything he'd lost—his family, his home, his future.
The wind tugged at his hair, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke and steel. He could almost imagine his father's voice, stern but steady, urging him to stand tall. "A Stormcloak doesn't run from a fight, Kael." Except now, running was the only thing keeping him alive.
"Up there!"
The shout snapped Kael out of his thoughts. He spun to see the torchlight growing brighter as the enforcers reached the base of the building. One of them pointed upward, shouting something he couldn't make out.
Kael didn't wait to hear the rest. He bolted, leaping from one rooftop to the next, the tiles slick and unsteady beneath his boots. His heart pounded in rhythm with his steps, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could hear them behind him now, their boots hammering against the iron staircases as they gave chase.
And then, as if sensing his desperation, the crystal stirred.
Kael felt it before he heard it—a faint vibration that spread from the satchel to his chest, like a second heartbeat. The hum grew louder, its frequency resonating in his bones. His steps faltered, and for a moment, he could swear he felt the shadows themselves shift around him, growing darker, sharper.
Use it, the voice whispered again, softer now, almost seductive. You're faster than them. Stronger. Call the shadows, Kael. They're yours to command.
"No," Kael muttered under his breath, his hands tightening around the strap of the satchel. "Not again."
The memories came unbidden—a blur of screams, blood pooling on stone, shadows twisting like living things. He shook his head violently, forcing the images away. He wouldn't let that happen again. He couldn't.
Behind him, a crossbow bolt whistled past his ear, shattering the tiles as it struck the roof. Kael stumbled, nearly losing his footing, and skidded to a halt at the edge of the building. He looked down and cursed. It was a thirty-foot drop to the street below, with no safe way down.
"End of the line, thief," growled a voice behind him.
Kael turned slowly, his breath catching in his throat. The leader of the enforcers stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the torchlight. His scarred face twisted into a smug grin as he gestured for the others to circle around Kael, their crossbows trained on him.
"Drop the satchel," the leader ordered, his voice cold and unyielding. "Do it now, and maybe I'll make your hanging quick."
Kael's gaze flicked to the crystal, visible through the partially open flap of the satchel. It pulsed faintly, as if mocking him.
The enforcer's grin widened. "Nothing to say? Fine. Then let's—"
The shadows lunged with a feral intensity, tendrils like black serpents slithering up the enforcer's legs. They coiled around his torso, dragging him to the ground with a force that sent his sword clattering away. His breath hitched in panic as the inky tendrils tightened, pulling him into a kneeling position.
"Wha—what is this?! Get them off!" he bellowed, clawing at the dark vines encasing him, his voice cracking with raw terror.
But the shadows weren't content to hold. They climbed higher, snaking up his throat and prying his jaw open, forcing him to choke on the void itself. His screams turned to wet, gurgling gasps, the sound muffled as the shadows poured into his mouth like liquid smoke, snuffing out his cries.
Kael stood frozen, his breath catching in his chest as the enforcer's eyes rolled back. The whites of them gleamed in the torchlight, veins darkening across his pale skin like cracks in glass. Blood dribbled from his nostrils and ears, thin trails staining his face as his body spasmed violently, the life draining from him inch by inch.
The other enforcers scrambled backward, their torches shaking as they fumbled to load their crossbows.
"Wielder! It's some kind of—"
Their voices cut off with a sickening crack as the shadows found them too, dragging them down like predators claiming prey. One enforcer screamed, his arm bent backward at an unnatural angle before the darkness wrapped around his neck and pulled. The sharp pop of vertebrae echoed through the night, and his body went limp, folding like a discarded doll.
Kael's legs felt like lead as he watched the last man's helmet roll away, the torchlight catching on the slick sheen of blood pooling beneath it. The shadows moved like living things, feeding off the panic in the air. They twisted and writhed, faster now, more aggressive, as if drunk on the violence.
"No," Kael whispered, his voice hoarse. "Stop."
The shadows ignored him, coiling tighter around the first enforcer's limp form. A final, visceral crack echoed in the still night air as the man's head twisted unnaturally, his body crumpling like brittle parchment.
Kael's stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as the rooftop fell silent. The enforcers lay in twisted, broken heaps, their bodies contorted in ways that shouldn't have been possible. The bloodstains gleamed black in the moonlight, pooling beneath the lifeless remains.
The shadows slithered back into the corners, leaving no sign of their carnage save for the bodies. Kael stared down at his hands, trembling as the sickly taste of copper filled the air.
He hadn't meant for this to happen. He'd tried to stop it. But the shadows didn't care. They moved with a will of their own, feeding on his anger, his fear, his desperation—and leaving death in their wake.
Kael grabbed the crystal, shoving it back into the satchel with trembling hands. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as he staggered to his feet.
And then he ran.
This time, he didn't look back.