Raven's vision blurred as consciousness seeped back, the metallic tang of blood coating his tongue. He lay on a cold stone floor, the distant clamor of a feast echoing through the walls. Marcus crouched beside him, pressing a damp cloth to his temple.
"Boss… I'm sorry," Marcus muttered, his voice grim. "The Outsiders are involved. I had to pretend to knock you out. They're watching."
Raven's fingers twitched toward his dagger. "Where are we?"
"The Dominion's banquet hall. Something's about to break loose," Marcus warned.
A scream cut through the air.
In the hall, Damian moved like a ghost among the revelers. Disguised as a waiter, his face hidden behind a silver half-mask, he carried a tray of poisoned wine. His golden eyes—slit-pupiled and glowing faintly—locked onto Torin, who stood guard behind Prince Edric.
*Tonight, you die, brother.*
Damian's demonic blood hummed beneath his skin. As a **regressor**, he'd lived this moment a dozen times: Torin's blade in his gut, the Freehold prince's corpse at his feet, the Outsiders' laughter ringing in his ears. This time, he'd rewrite the script.
He offered the poisoned goblet to Edric. "A gift from the emperor, Your Grace."
Torin's hand shot out, seizing Damian's wrist. "The emperor sends no gifts unannounced."
Damian smiled. "No. But I do."
Alden, the emperor's butler, stepped forward, his cane cracking the floor. "Enough theatrics, boy. Your aura reeks of the Void."
Damian dropped the tray, a dagger slipping into his hand. "Walk away, old man. This doesn't concern you."
Their blades clashed, Alden matching Damian's speed with decades of honed precision. The banquet erupted into chaos—guests fleeing, plates shattering. Torin shielded Edric, his eyes narrowed. *That swordsman… his style is Northwind. Impossible.*
Damian transformed, black scales erupting across his body. His demon form—a towering figure with serrated horns and claws—loomed over Alden. The butler's sword shattered.
"A demon… and a regressor?" Alden breathed. "What are you?"
"The end," Damian said, driving his claw through Alden's chest.
Kael Voss burst into the hall, chain-axe roaring. "Enough!"
He lunged at Damian, their weapons colliding in a shower of sparks. Torin joined the fray, his twin blades cutting through Damian's scaled flesh.
"You," Torin snarled. "You're the one who slaughtered my unit at Frostspire."
Damian laughed, black blood oozing from his wounds. "You let them die, *Captain*. You clung to honor while the Outsiders butchered us."
Kael's axe hooked Damian's arm, yanking him off-balance. "Save the stories for the grave."
A shadow flickered behind Kael—a figure cloaked in living darkness. A gauntleted fist struck Kael's temple, dropping him mid-swing.
The Outsider stepped over Kael's body, its voice echoing like a chorus of whispers. "Enough, Damian. The emperor is irrelevant. Our war lies elsewhere."
Damian hesitated, his demon form wavering. "Torin dies tonight."
The Outsider seized his arm, its grip freezing his veins. "**Now.**"
They vanished into smoke, leaving Torin bloodied and Edric trembling.
Raven staggered into the hall, Marcus at his heels. The carnage was staggering: Alden's corpse, Kael unconscious, Torin kneeling over Edric.
"Boss," Marcus said, eyeing the bloodstains. "You sure you're—"
Raven raised a hand, his gaze locking onto the shattered stained-glass window. Two figures were depicted in the shards—a warrior and a demon, locked in eternal combat. *The same statues from the cathedral.*
"They're not working alone," Raven said quietly. "The traitor and the Outsider… they're the ones from the mural. The 'Eternal Duel.' This won't end here."
Torin looked up, his voice raw. "You knew."
Raven ignored him, turning to Marcus. "Gather the squad. We attack tonight."
Marcus blinked. "Retreat? Since when do you—"
"**Now**," Raven snapped.
As Marcus hurried off, Raven knelt beside Kael, pressing a vial of antidote to the Warmaster's lips. *Drakthar's antidote. His game, his rules.*
Torin grabbed Raven's arm. "Who was that demon?"
Raven met his gaze. "Your past. And my problem."
---
Later, in the palace crypts, Raven faced the statue of the cathedral warrior—its stone face eerily familiar. He pressed a hand to its chest, where a hidden compartment held a scroll.
*To the Shadow's heir,* it read. *The regressor seeks the First Flame. Stop him, or all is lost.*
The moon hung low over the Dominion's fractured plains, its pale light slicing through the haze of smoke rising from the banquet hall. Raven stood amidst the chaos, his squad battered but unbroken. Marcus wiped blood from his brow, his crossbow slung over his shoulder.
"Orders, boss?" Marcus asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
Raven's gaze swept the horizon. "Gather the squad. You, Lydia, and Finn hunt Damian. He'll retreat to the Frostspine ruins—it's where regressors anchor their loops. Garrett and Roland stay with the prince. Keep him breathing."
"The Outsiders," Raven said, tossing Marcus a bloodstained map scavenged from Damian's fallen cloak. "Their Baron's waiting."
Marcus frowned. "You're going alone?"
Raven turned, his voice cold. "They want a shadow? I'll give them a storm."
In the palace infirmary, Prince Edric groaned as Raven pressed a vial of antidote to his lips. The prince's skin, once ashen, flushed with color. "Why… save me?"
"You're a pawn," Raven said bluntly. "But pawns become queens if they survive the board."
Kael stirred on a nearby cot, his chain-axe propped against the wall. The Warmaster's face was a mess of bruises, but his glare burned undimmed. "You."
Raven tossed him a second vial. "Drink. Or don't. Your funeral."
Kael snarled but downed the antidote. "Why?"
"Because the Baron of Arrogance dies tonight," Raven said. "And you're the only one here who hates the Outsiders more than I do."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You think this makes us allies?"
Raven smirked. "I think you'll follow me anyway."
The mountain loomed like a jagged fang, its peak shrouded in storm clouds. Raven climbed, the wind howling around him, until he reached the cliff's edge. The Baron stood there, his form shifting between corporeal and smoke, his face hidden beneath a horned helm.
*Little Shadow,* the Baron hissed, his voice echoing with a hundred whispers. "You've come to kneel?"
Raven drew his daggers. "I've come to end your story."
The Baron laughed, the sound grating like rusted chains. "Stories *never* end. They twist. Repeat. Your precious Damian—did he tell you how many times I've gutted him? How many times he's begged for death?"
Raven's blades gleamed. "He'll beg for you next."
The Baron moved first, his sword materializing from shadow. Raven parried, the impact numbing his arms. They danced across the cliff, steel clashing against void-forged metal.
"You fight well," the Baron mocked. "For a *failed* experiment."
Raven feinted left, his dagger scoring the Baron's ribs. Black ichor splattered the rocks. "The First Flame. Where is it?"
The Baron's helm split into a grin. "You think you can wield it? You, who can't even control the demon inside?"
A whip of darkness lashed Raven's chest, tearing through leather and flesh. He staggered, blood dripping into his eyes. The Baron loomed, sword raised.
"Your squad abandons you. Your emperor uses you. Even your *demon* betrays you," the Baron sneered. "What's left to fight for?"
Raven's vision blurred—not from pain, but memory. *The cathedral statues. The warrior and the demon, locked in battle. One soul, two halves.*
"Myself," Raven said.
His daggers crossed, unleashing a burst of black flame. The Baron screamed as the fire consumed his armor, melting helm to bone.
---
The Baron's corpse crumbled to ash, leaving behind a single artifact: a gauntlet etched with celestial runes. Raven clasped it, and visions flooded his mind—a fortress carved into a living glacier, its heart pulsing with violet fire. *The First Flame.*
"Raven."
He turned. Kael stood at the cliff's edge, his chain-axe gleaming.
"You followed," Raven said.
"You left a trail even a drunk could follow," Kael growled. "The Flame—it's real?"
Raven tossed him the gauntlet. "Real enough to burn the world."
Kael studied the runes, his jaw tight. "The Dominion's seers spoke of it. A weapon to unmake empires."
"Or save them," Raven said.
Kael's laugh was harsh. "You're a fool if you think that's how this ends."
"Then let's be fools together," Raven said. "Truce. Until the Flame is secured."
Kael spat, but nodded. "Truce. But when this is over, I'll still kill you."
Raven smirked. "You'll try."