The world was quiet.
A silence so deep it pressed against Dorian Veyl's chest like the weight of the abyss itself. Shadows stretched around him, curling at his feet like hungry tendrils, feeding on the void. He stood alone in a barren expanse, where the horizon faded into an endless, misty black.
It was not the first time he had been here.
This place—this suffocating nothingness—was both a prison and a sanctuary. It swallowed everything, leaving only him and his thoughts, his regrets.
A cruel laugh echoed in his mind. How fitting.
Dorian clenched his fists. His silver eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixated on the darkness before him. It was easy to pretend he didn't feel the gnawing emptiness inside. Easy to act as if he wasn't haunted by the ghosts of his past.
But the past never truly stayed buried.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the shadows shifted, twisting into fractured memories. And before he could stop it, the past came rushing back.
A grand hall. Tall pillars of obsidian. The scent of burning incense mixed with iron.
He was a child. No older than seven. Kneeling before the throne of his father, Alden Veyl.
The King of Shadows loomed above him, his presence suffocating, his voice a deep, endless chasm.
"What is power, Dorian?"
Dorian's small hands trembled as he kept his head bowed. He had learned early that hesitation meant weakness. And weakness was intolerable.
"Control," he answered, forcing his voice to remain steady.
Alden's cold chuckle sent a shiver down his spine. "Wrong."
A sharp pain struck his cheek as a shadow lashed across his face, sending him sprawling onto the marble floor.
"Power is not control," his father continued, standing from his throne. His dark cloak billowed behind him, the very air seeming to bend at his will. "Power is dominance. It is ensuring that no one dares to challenge you."
Dorian pushed himself up, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the tears. He had learned not to cry.
"You have my blood," Alden said, staring down at him with piercing black eyes. "But you are not yet my son. Prove yourself, or you will be nothing."
The memory burned like embers in his chest.
Another memory bled into existence.
This one was gentler. Warmer.
A woman with golden-brown eyes and dark curls running her fingers through his hair. Her voice, soft like a lullaby.
"You don't have to be like him, Dorian," his mother had whispered.
He had been barely ten. He remembered clinging to her, seeking the comfort he would never find in his father's world.
"There is light in you," she said. "Even in the deepest shadows."
But her light had been extinguished far too soon.
Alden had called it necessary. A lesson in detachment.
Dorian had called it murder.
That night, something inside him shattered.
And from those broken pieces, a new Dorian was born.
The darkness shifted once more, pulling him into another memory.
He was older now. Hardened. Stronger.
The throne room was different. The man standing before him was not his father.
Saraphine Vale.
His mother's sister.
"You have a choice, Dorian," she had told him, a cruel smirk dancing on her lips. "Join me, and I will give you the power to destroy everything your father built."
For a moment, he had considered it. The idea of watching Alden Veyl fall, of carving his own path instead of following another's, had been tempting.
But he knew better than to trust a Vale.
"I refuse."
Saraphine had merely smiled, amusement flickering in her emerald eyes. "Foolish nephew."
And now, here he was. Caught between the past and the future. A pawn between two ruthless players in a game he never wanted to be a part of.
Dorian exhaled sharply, pushing the memories away. The past was a chain he could never break, but he would not let it define him.
Not anymore.
With a single step, he moved forward, vanishing into the darkness once more.
---
Elsewhere…
A soft drip of water echoed through the cavern as Aria and her group trudged through yet another unfamiliar landscape.
"I swear," Finn muttered, rubbing his temples, "if we get teleported one more time, I'm filing a formal complaint with the universe."
Kael snorted. "Good luck with that."
"I'll send a strongly worded letter to the Seekers' Council," Finn continued dramatically. "Dear all-powerful beings, kindly stop throwing us into random death traps. Regards, a very disgruntled Healer."
"You forgot to add, 'P.S. Please also stop Quinn from flirting with Lyric every five minutes,'" Lyric deadpanned, side-eyeing Quinn, who was currently walking just a little too close to her.
Quinn grinned. "Oh, come now, Lyric. You wound me. I'm not flirting—I'm simply appreciating the unparalleled brilliance of your mind. The way your thoughts weave together like the most intricate spell is truly breathtaking."
Lyric stared at him, unimpressed. "I will hex you."
"Not before I win you over with my charm," he shot back smoothly, tossing his dark hair dramatically.
"Or before I throw him into a ravine," Kael muttered under his breath.
"I heard that," Quinn said cheerfully. "And I choose to believe it's because you're jealous of my effortless charisma."
Kael didn't even dignify that with a response.
Aria chuckled, shaking her head. As much as their situation was technically dire—being thrown into an unknown place by Saraphine, yet again—she couldn't help but appreciate the absurdity of moments like these.
Still, something tugged at her senses.
The cavern wasn't just a random location. There was something…else here. A presence lingering at the edge of perception, like a whisper just beyond hearing.
She frowned, pressing a hand to her pendant.
Something was coming.
But at least, for now, they had a moment of peace.
And Quinn had another opportunity to get hexed.
---
In the Shadows…
Dorian opened his eyes.
The weight of his past still lingered, but his purpose had never been clearer.
It was time to stop running.
And start fighting.
For what, he wasn't sure.
But he would find out soon enough.
Even if it meant facing the one person who might ruin him completely.
Aria Evercrest.