The cold wind sliced through the skeletal branches of the trees as Ethan stood alone on the ridge overlooking the village. Night had swallowed the world in shadow, but beneath the stars, his eyes burned with a fire far hotter than the moonlight.
His heart was a battlefield, torn between two fierce enemies: the consuming rage that demanded blood, and the fragile hope that whispered of something more — something worth saving beyond hatred.
The faces of the betrayers haunted him relentlessly — their smiles twisted with cruelty, their words like knives that had severed the bonds of trust and shattered his world.
Ethan clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms. His curse simmered beneath his skin like a coiled serpent, eager to strike and devour.
Revenge was no longer a choice — it was a necessity.
But it was a path lined with darkness, and Ethan knew the cost.
Inside the small hut he now called his refuge, a tattered map lay spread across a wooden table, marked with red ink and notes in Ethan's careful handwriting.
Each mark was a target, a name, a place where those who had betrayed him hid behind false smiles and whispered lies.
He traced a finger over one name — Marcus. The man who had been his closest friend before turning against him for power.
Ethan's jaw tightened. Marcus had burned his family's home, stolen his future.
He will pay.
But the cold light of revenge was not the only thing glinting in Ethan's eyes.
There was Liora — a fragile thread of warmth in a world turned bitter and cold.
She had returned quietly, her presence a reminder of what once was and what might still be salvaged.
Yet Ethan kept her at arm's length, afraid to let the shadows inside him spill over and destroy the one light he had left.
The nights grew restless. Dreams invaded his sleep — memories twisted by pain and rage.
He saw the screams, the betrayal, the fires consuming everything he loved.
But in those dreams, he also saw himself — a man lost to darkness, swallowed whole by the curse he wielded.
And that terrified him more than any enemy.
Ethan's plan unfolded slowly, like a shadow creeping across the land.
He gathered whispers and rumors, watched from the darkness as his enemies celebrated their false victories.
Every smile they wore was a lie. Every victory, a curse waiting to be overturned.
He would dismantle their power piece by piece, not with reckless fury, but with calculated precision.
Yet the question lingered like a poison in his mind:
Could he reclaim his life without losing his soul?
One cold evening, as the wind howled through the empty streets, Liora found him training beneath the pale glow of a dying fire.
His movements were sharp, controlled, but there was a storm raging in his eyes.
She stepped forward, voice soft but unwavering.
"Ethan, you don't have to do this alone."
He paused, the weight of his burden pressing down like a mountain.
"I have to," he whispered. "If I don't, they will destroy everything. And I will lose myself to the darkness."
She reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his.
"Then let me stand with you — not as a shadow, but as a light."
For a moment, the rage inside Ethan softened, replaced by a fragile hope he barely dared to acknowledge.
But the road ahead was dark and twisted.
And with every step he took toward revenge, he knew the shadows within him would grow deeper still.