Valen's body burned.
Not with pain, not with suffering—but with power.
As the shadows consumed him, he felt them seep into his skin, filling every vein, every bone, every breath. It was not a curse. It was not a prison.
It was a gift.
Visions flashed through his mind—his past, his battles, his regrets—all crumbling like dust. The Light had forged him into a warrior, but the Dark had remade him into something more.
The voice returned, soft yet absolute.
You are no longer bound by the chains of men. You are no longer merely flesh and blood.
Valen's hands trembled, but not with fear. He could feel the power now, coiling beneath his skin like a living thing, waiting to be unleashed.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the darkness receded. The world snapped back into focus.
The ruins. The trees. The night sky.
He was still himself.
But he was more.
---
A Sweet Morning
The first thing Valen noticed when he awoke was warmth.
Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the ruined tower, casting golden hues across the stone floor. The storm had passed, leaving the air crisp and clean.
The second thing he noticed was Serra.
She was still curled beside him, her bare skin partially covered by the thick furs they had dragged over themselves during the night. Her dark hair was messily spread across her shoulders, and her breathing was slow, peaceful.
She looked… soft.
Not the hardened warrior, not the woman who had fought beside him through blood and fire. Just her.
Valen smiled slightly. He reached out, running his fingers gently down her arm, tracing the small scars that told stories of battles fought long before they had met.
Serra stirred, making a soft sound in the back of her throat. Then, her eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, she simply blinked at him, as if adjusting to the sight of him still there. Then, a slow smirk tugged at her lips.
"You're staring."
Valen chuckled. "Maybe."
She stretched, muscles shifting beneath his touch. "Didn't take you for the sentimental type."
"Maybe I'm not." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Or maybe you just make me that way."
Serra arched an eyebrow. "Dangerous talk."
"I like danger."
She laughed, the sound low and warm. Then, before he could react, she rolled over, straddling him, her fingers pressing against his chest.
Valen raised an amused brow. "Taking charge?"
Serra leaned down, her lips barely brushing his. "Always."
Their kiss was slow, teasing, a contrast to the fire of the night before. Where last night had been about release, about claiming and being claimed, this was something else entirely.
Something real.
When they finally pulled apart, Serra exhaled, resting her forehead against his.
"We should leave soon," she murmured.
Valen nodded, though part of him wanted to stay in this moment a little longer.
But war did not wait for lovers.
And neither did destiny.
---
They left the ruins by midday, moving through the thick forests toward the southern roads. The world felt different to Valen now. Sharper. More alive.
And then there was the power.
He could still feel it, pulsing beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.
Serra noticed. "You've been quiet."
Valen flexed his fingers. The shadows at his feet seemed to shift unnaturally, stretching toward him like they knew.
"I'm… different."
Serra frowned. "Explain."
Valen exhaled, then reached out.
The darkness obeyed.
A thin tendril of shadow curled from his fingertips, twisting in the air like a wisp of smoke. It wasn't like magic—not like the holy fire of the Radiant Order, not like the runes of old.
It was something else. Something older.
Serra took a step back, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is that?"
Valen closed his hand, and the shadow vanished.
"I don't know yet."
Serra studied him. "Should I be worried?"
Valen smirked. "Probably."
She snorted. "Great. Just what I needed. A shadow-possessed idiot for a partner."
He chuckled. "You love it."
Serra rolled her eyes, but she didn't deny it.
And as they continued down the road, Valen clenched his fist—feeling the power waiting beneath his skin.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid.
He was ready.