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The darkness enveloped Ardyn like a suffocating shroud. His once-mighty muscles trembled, drained of energy, while his senses swirled in a haze of confusion. He tried to call upon his mana, but it was gone—like a river running dry, leaving only the emptiness of his soul behind. The eerie chant continued, rising in crescendo, its magic tugging at his very being.
And then, everything stopped.
Ardyn's eyes snapped open. The world around him was eerily still, too still. He could feel the cold stone beneath him but no longer the comfort of his own power. Panic gripped his chest as he pushed himself to his feet, only to collapse onto shaky legs. His body—his strong body—was gone.
Before him stood the man who had stolen it. Ardyn's heart skipped a beat. The imposter grinned wickedly, his new form mirroring Ardyn's own, down to the glint in the eyes. The courtesan who had lured him here stood by, a triumphant sneer playing on her lips.
"The ritual is complete," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "You, the great Ardyn, are no more. Now you are nothing but a broken, weak husk."
Ardyn tried to speak, to demand answers, but his voice came out a mere rasp—weak and feeble. He looked down at his hands, thin and trembling, and for the first time in his life, felt small.
The courtesan stepped closer, running a finger along the edge of his jaw. "Your arrogance was your undoing. You thought yourself untouchable, the embodiment of perfection. But perfection cannot endure when it is built on pride."
With a wave of her hand, the imposter turned and began to walk away. Ardyn's mind reeled, still too weak to do anything. His body was no longer his own, and his soul felt as if it had been shattered into a thousand pieces.
Despair washed over him. What now? The man who had once held the world in the palm of his hand was now nothing more than a beggar on the streets of the kingdom he had once ruled. The weight of his fall was crushing, and the bitterness of it burned like a poisoned wound.
The courtesan turned back, her smile sharp as a dagger. "Don't think you'll be forgotten, Ardyn. You will be nothing but a story, a warning to others who dare to think they are beyond fate's grasp."
As she and the imposter disappeared into the shadows, Ardyn's knees buckled beneath him. How could he ever rise again?
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