Chapter Two
A black sphere, veiled in a silver halo, stood still in the heart of the sky, scattering pale light upon the land.
At the edge of this monochrome realm, a ruined house revealed itself. Roofless, it let the light slowly seep inside, casting a cold, neutral glow.
From the entrance to the center of the house, nothing could be seen but shattered timbers and twisted bones, half-buried in the mud.
At the far end, a single hall still remained.
Someone lay there; up close, it was nothing more than scattered bones. Beside it rested a rusted, blackened sword.
He stood before a stone effigy, split cleanly in two. None could tell whether time itself had broken it, or some weapon had severed it—but only its lower half remained.
Moments passed, the image still. Were it not for the stirring of the wind, it seemed time itself had halted.
Suddenly, the gusts rose, and an explosion of silver light burst forth. The movement converged at the broken effigy's core.
A figure stood upon it; tall, cloaked in shadow, his face hidden. In his hand, a long staff topped with a jagged silver stone.
He shifted slightly, revealing a chin cloaked in dark beard. His eyes gleamed yellow, piercing and unyielding. He drew in a deep breath—then suddenly bent over.
"Ghh… ghhh… khhh…"
He spat upon the ground, the stench of rot filling his senses. He straightened, covering his nose with his free hand. The hood slipped from his head, revealing a middle-aged man. Yet his face went almost unnoticed, for his golden eyes commanded all attention.
"Ah… this place has long been left unclean. Not that it matters anymore. Had Kavian's father been here, he would have raged."
A bitter smile touched his lips. His gaze fell upon the sword, and he shook his head.
"Another sacrifice… no matter. First, this place must be cleansed."
He raised his hands, bowed his head, and whispered. Silver light, veined with gold, rose around him as though he prayed:
"O Mother of All, your purity shines upon every world. Cleanse all foulness and all who are lost. May your children, within the cradle of your hands, find peace in death…"
Seconds passed. He opened his eyes, yet nothing had changed. His brows furrowed; he bowed once more to repeat the words. But something halted him.
His eyes rose to the black sphere above. Silver light bathed his face.
From his golden pupils ran two dark trails, like tears etched in ash.
He touched his face, muttering to himself. His words were broken, incomprehensible. Was he raving?
His gaze fell again to the skull, and he spoke:
"O you who perished in small despair, your cries never reached the Mother of All—only the shadows heard you. Death was denied you, when you summoned shadows into her house."
His hands spread wide as his furious, grieving eyes turned skyward.
"Ha… ha… ha…"
His laughter shook the forests to their roots.
"... As you will it, then…"
His lips moved, but no sound escaped.
He pressed his fingers to his left eye. Two above, thumb below—and drove them in. Slowly, deliberately, he plucked out his own eye. Black blood flowed down, staining his face like the heavens above.
Yet no pain touched him.
He cradled the golden, blood-drenched eye in his palm. Regret glimmered in his gaze, but no hesitation.
His fist closed. Blood and fat slipped between his fingers. Lifting it above, he let the drops fall into the hollow socket.
He shut his eyelid, whispered, and after a moment raised his face again.
No blood remained. The eye was restored—yet its golden glow was gone. Now it shone pale brown.
He lowered his staff. Light fell upon the bones, as though seeking something.
The glow gathered upon the skull, trembling violently.
He touched the staff's tip to its forehead. Silver radiance surged—
A black and violet serpent burst forth, hissing, lunging for his throat.
Yet the man's gaze froze it mid-air. His golden right eye flared, and the serpent stiffened.
With a flick of his staff, he cast the beast aside. Still, its threat lingered in his stare.
The skull and bones rose, aligning beside the serpent.
The man unclenched his fist, revealing golden light burning in his palm.
The ruin blazed with warmth. Dead grass stirred with fleeting life. Bones yearned toward the glow, as though aching for warmth denied in death.
The serpent trembled, weakening by the breath.
He placed the light between serpent and bones, chanting:
"I, Naurania, the youngest child of the Mother of All, within her sacred dwelling built for the lost, summon the holy light.
O shadow, parasite of light and dark, as her child I command you: depart this sacred place."
The ruin blazed for hundreds of paces. No haven for shadow remained.
The black-violet serpent waned, unraveling.
He spoke again:
"O offspring of shadow, born of a lost light's despair, I call you now by my true name—Naurania, given me by the Mother of All.
By the holy flame, by the dark death, by the dishonored shades, whose fragments I hold—I summon you, O Nightborn, forgotten being of Adna's ancient age, from the era of Eternal Nights.
Come forth again into this land drowned in shadow, to seek the everlasting light.
Slay the darkness, and bring forth the dawn."
Light brighter than morning's rise swept the ruin, driving every evil away.
Darkness fell back, and a forgotten being emerged:
Born of shadow and darkness, yet yearning for light—"Nightborn."
A name from history's abyss. An undying creature, flesh of shadow, bones of death, and a heart of holy fire.
_Aaaaaaaaaa....
A howl tore through Adna, filled with rage and longing.
It heralded an age of fear and waiting—for the light.
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