The wind carried the scent of damp earth as Eryndor stood in the clearing, his arms trembling from exhaustion. The training had been relentless—Eldrin had pushed him harder than ever, forcing him to tap into his power again and again.
But something was wrong.
Each time he tried to summon his energy, it felt… unfamiliar. Like it wasn't his to command. It responded, but not the way he wanted.
"I don't understand," Eryndor muttered, frustration lacing his words.
Eldrin studied him carefully. "Because you're still fighting against it," he said. "Magic flows best when you understand its nature. But you… your power is resisting you."
Eryndor clenched his fists. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
Eldrin sighed. "That's what we need to find out—before it consumes you."
---
Whispers in the Dark
Far from the secluded clearing, in the heart of an ancient citadel, a conversation took place in hushed tones.
A man clad in dark robes knelt before a towering figure, his voice filled with urgency. "It's him. There's no doubt."
The figure, seated on an elaborate throne, remained silent for a long moment. Then, a low chuckle echoed through the chamber.
"So the lost shadow walks once more…"
Golden eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"Find him. And if what you say is true…" The figure leaned forward, voice turning cold. "Erase him before he remembers."
---
A Glimpse Into the Past
That night, Eryndor lay beneath the open sky, staring up at the stars. His body ached, his mind was restless. The wind was eerily still.
And then—it happened.
A searing pain tore through his skull, like thousands of voices screaming at once. His vision blurred, twisting, bending—
A flash of light. A burning battlefield.
He stood in the midst of chaos, bodies strewn across blood-soaked ground. The sky was darkened by swirling shadows, and in the distance, he saw himself—or rather, the man he once was.
Power crackled at his fingertips, a dark force surging around him. He was fighting—no, he was being hunted.
Then, a voice. Cold. Familiar.
"You never should have come this far."
Eryndor turned—just in time to see a blade plunging toward his heart.
And then—
Darkness.
---
A Name Forgotten, A Betrayal Remembered
Eryndor gasped awake, sweat dripping from his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
That voice… that face…
It was someone he knew. Someone he had trusted.
But who?
He clutched his head, the memory slipping away like sand through his fingers.
Eldrin sat nearby, watching him. "You saw something," he said quietly.
Eryndor swallowed hard, his hands still shaking.
"Yes," he whispered. "And I think… someone betrayed me."
---
End of chapter 6