Reign of the Shadows | Shadow Slave AU

Two silhouettes stood in front of a burning building. Smoke rose high into the night sky, slowly dissipating as the structure weakened. Moments later, the building collapsed in on itself. One of the figures, illuminated by the fire, was tall and broad-shouldered, his lean yet powerful physique outlined against the flames. He had dark hair and a thick but dignified beard. His noble face bore a harsh, austere expression, and his gray eyes were as cold as tempered steel. The man exhaled deeply before speaking to the figure beside him.

"You know, for a clan as talented and elusive as the shadows themselves, it was oddly easy to break them."

The other silhouette stepped closer to the burning ruins; her form was gradually illuminated by the fire. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with long, raven-black hair cascading down her back. Bending down, she picked up a small piece of charred wood, held it between her fingers as the fire consumed it, and brushed her hand. She let the flames burn her for a moment before snuffing them out with a quick flick of her wrist.

"Well, this wouldn't have been possible without my help," she said smoothly. "You know, since your clan is full of brutes, Vale. Just remember the debt you owe me, and all will be well."

The man, Vale, grunted and turned away from the smoldering wreckage.

"You know, I wish you'd stop calling me that," he muttered. "Besides, their clan was a thorn in your side, too. It benefits us both that they're gone."

"That may be true… However, you stand to gain more from this than I do." She snapped her fan open, partially concealing her face behind the polished metal. "They dabbled mainly in the weapons trade—your domain. Luckily, they stayed out of my business. But don't worry Anvil, I won't ask for much in return. And don't think too hard about it, and you've already got enough wrinkles as is."

She flashed him a cocky smile before hiding it behind her fan.

Anvil scoffed at her remark but said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

***

Sunless, the heir of the Shadow Clan, gasped for air, his lungs burning as smoke and ash filled them. He struggled to move the heavy rubble, trapping him and his sister, Rain, beneath the wreckage of their clan's headquarters. Clawing at the debris with his bare hands, he fought desperately, but it was useless. His fingers blistered and burned with every attempt.

Then, suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped. The fires flickered and, as if suffocated by an unseen force, snuffed themselves out.

Without warning, the door burst open, the force sending rubble flying in all directions. Sunless instinctively threw himself over Rain, shielding her with his body. Pain shot through him as debris struck his back, a pained yelp escaping his throat. Before he had time to recover, a group of women rushed into the room.

A sharp kick sent him sprawling away from Rain, his body screaming in protest, but none of that mattered—his sister was in danger. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he clenched his fists and willed himself forward.

'Get up, Sunless. Get up!'

Ignoring the pain, he lunged at one of the women hovering over Rain, tackling her to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and charged at another.

But he never reached her.

A brutal force slammed him to the ground, pinning him in place.

"We should just get rid of him," one of the women muttered. "He's making this too much trouble."

"No," another replied. "Miss wants him alive—for now. He may serve some purpose later."

"Can we at least knock him out? He keeps getting in the way."

"Fine. Just make sure he stays breathing. He's not our priority."

One of the women pulled a baton from her belt and strode toward him. Sunless struggled against the weight holding him down, but it was futile. The last thing he saw was the handle of the baton swinging toward his temple.

Then—darkness.

"All right," one of them said. "Grab the girl, and let's move before the police arrive."

And just like that, they were gone.

The room fell silent. Then, the sky opened, and rain began to fall. What had once been the Shadow Clan was now laid to ruin.

***

'It's cold…'

Sunless lay sprawled on his back, surrounded by the shattered remains of what he once called home. The one thing he had left, the one thing he wanted to protect, was gone. And he had been too weak to stop it.

He clenched his fists. He needed strength. He needed revenge. He needed to get Rain back—no matter what it took.

A sharp, bitter laugh bubbled up from his throat, mixing with the raindrops pelting his face.

For years, he had been trained to suppress his emotions. To show no weakness. But at that moment, there was no one left to see him. No one left to judge him.

So, he let go.

His body shook as he let out a gravelly, broken sob. His grief, his rage, his regret—all of it poured out in the form of choked cries and desperate, unanswered pleas.

"It's not fair!" he roared into the storm. "Those Song and Valor bastards ganged up on us! What was I supposed to do?!"

His cries faded into the night until, finally, there were no more tears left to shed. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw, his body trembling from exhaustion. He had nothing left. No plan. No one left to help him. No strength to fight back.

And yet…

Sunless's eyes shot open.

The solution was so simple he almost laughed at himself for not realizing it sooner.

He didn't have to fight alone.

The Shadow Clan may have fallen, but not everyone had been their enemy. There were others—clans that weren't directly under the rule of Valor and Song. Clans that might listen.

'The House of Night. The Honey Clan… they worked with Song, but they aren't vassals. And then… the Immortal Flame.'

A grin spread across his face. The once great clan had long since fallen from its superior position, making it the last place anyone would expect him to go.

His body ached, his mind swirled with possibilities, but one thing was certain—he now had an attainable goal.

He chuckled softly, wiping his face as he pushed himself to his feet.

"This is going to be rough," he muttered. Then, rolling his shoulders, he took his first step forward.