The rain hammered against the crumbling walls of the shack, its relentless rhythm echoing the storm brewing in Valen's heart. Inside, the air was damp and heavy, filled with the acrid scent of decay. A single candle flickered on a rickety table, its light barely holding back the encroaching darkness. Valen sat in the corner, his back pressed against the cold, damp wall. His clothes, once a testament to his noble lineage, were now tattered and smeared with mud.
Two months had passed since his world was shattered. The grand halls of his family estate, once bustling with laughter and pride, had been reduced to ashes. Betrayal had come in the form of trusted allies, their blades cutting deeper than any enemy's ever could.
His hands trembled as he clutched a strange, tattered book. It was bound in blackened leather, its surface cold to the touch, as though it had been plucked from the abyss itself. Valen's eyes scanned the incomprehensible symbols etched onto the pages. He didn't understand the language, but he felt its power, an undeniable force that seemed to call to him.
The book had been a gift—or perhaps a curse—left on the remains of his family's estate. He'd found it buried beneath the rubble, untouched by fire or time. At first, he had ignored it, too consumed by grief and rage to care about such a peculiar find. But in his darkest moments, when the weight of his powerlessness threatened to crush him, the book whispered to him.
"Valen," a gruff voice called from the door.
Startled, Valen snapped the book shut and shoved it beneath his cloak. He looked up to see Joran, his father's former steward, standing in the doorway with a sack slung over his shoulder.
"You're still alive," Joran said, stepping inside.
"Disappointed?" Valen replied, his voice laced with bitterness.
Joran smirked and set the sack on the table. "Hardly. Though I doubt you'll last long if you keep playing with fire."
Valen said nothing, his hand resting on the book beneath his cloak. He didn't trust Joran, not completely. The man had stayed with him out of guilt, not loyalty. But guilt was a tool Valen had learned to wield.
"Eat," Joran said, tossing a loaf of bread onto the table. "You'll need your strength."
Valen tore off a piece of bread and ate in silence, his mind fixated on the book. Its whispers grew louder with each passing moment, urging him to act.
That night, after Joran had fallen asleep, Valen lit a small fire and opened the book again. The symbols seemed to shift and writhe on the page, and a deep, guttural voice echoed in his mind.
"Do you seek power, child of ruin?"
Valen froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice was not his own. It was ancient, otherworldly, and filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.
"Yes," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I seek power to destroy those who wronged me."
The voice chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Power comes at a price, mortal. Are you willing to pay it?"
Valen's grip on the book tightened. "I've already lost everything. What more could you take from me?"
"Your soul," the voice hissed. "Your humanity. You will become a vessel of darkness, a harbinger of chaos. But in return, you shall wield power beyond mortal comprehension."
For a moment, doubt flickered in Valen's mind. But then he remembered the screams of his family, the betrayal etched into the faces of those he had trusted.
"I accept," he said, his voice firm.
The room plunged into darkness, the candle extinguished by an unseen force. Shadows writhed around Valen, coiling like serpents. Pain tore through his body, as though his very essence was being reshaped. He bit down on his lip to keep from screaming, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.
When the darkness receded, Valen collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. His body felt different—stronger, yet colder. He glanced at his hands, now etched with faint, glowing runes.
The voice spoke again, softer this time. "You are marked, Valen. The darkness is yours to command. Use it wisely… or it will consume you."
As the first light of dawn crept through the cracks in the shack's walls, Valen stood, his resolve unshaken. He was no longer the broken boy hiding in the ruins of his past. He was something more, something unstoppable.
The world had taken everything from him. Now, armed with the power of darkness, he would take everything for himself.