The grand fortress of Drakthar Dominion was silent that night — eerily silent.
A crimson moon hung high above, bleeding its light through the shattered stained glass of the throne hall. The smell of iron and ash still lingered after the last battle; the scent of failure had soaked into the stones. The torches along the walls flickered like dying souls, their flames struggling to stay alive.
Upon the throne of blackened steel sat Kaelen, still clad in full armor. The weight of it pressed against his weary frame, yet he refused to remove it. A king, he once believed, must never be seen weak — not even by ghosts.
But tonight, even his armor could not hide the tremor in his hands. His arrogance had cracked. His pride had curdled into rage.
His eyes — hollow and rimmed with fatigue — stared at the vast, empty hall. No laughter of soldiers, no echo of Valen's quiet footsteps. Only silence.
Valen was dead.
His most trusted warrior — his shadow, his blade — killed like prey before his eyes.
Kaelen's jaw clenched until his teeth ground together. He wanted to curse the gods, to tear down the moon itself, to scream until the walls bled. Instead, he whispered the assassin's name like a prayer to a faith he no longer believed in.
"Valen…"
He closed his eyes.
And the memory came back to him — like smoke creeping under a locked door.
---
Years Earlier
The forest whispered that morning — a haunting hymn of wind brushing through silver-leaved trees. Kaelen rode through the mist with his guards, the hooves of their steeds sinking into moss that pulsed faintly with magic.
"Cursed woods," one of the guards muttered. "The ground breathes here."
"Let it," Kaelen replied, his tone cold. "Even the cursed kneel before power."
Then a shout cut through the air.
"My Lord! Something lies ahead!"
They halted.
A body lay in the middle of the path — twisted, glowing faintly in the gloom. Its veins pulsed black, its breath shallow. Not human. Not beast. Something in between.
"Perhaps a demon," a guard said, raising his spear. "We should end it before it—"
"Hold your blade," Kaelen commanded.
He dismounted and knelt beside the figure. The man was young, pale as moonlight, and a faint mist of shadow coiled around his body. His eyes fluttered open — silver irises burning faintly from within.
When he whispered, the air itself trembled.
Kaelen felt it — that pulse of power. Dangerous. Ancient. Beautiful.
"He's no mortal," he murmured.
Against his men's protests, Kaelen ordered him brought back to the fortress.
---
Valen woke days later, his voice low and steady.
"I was born from darkness," he said. "An immortal thief who stole too much from the gods."
He told his story by the glow of a dying fire — how he had taken lives for pleasure, until another immortal came. One stronger. One who shattered him and cast him from the immortal realm.
"When I woke," Valen whispered, "I was banished — trapped in the skin of men."
Kaelen watched him closely. He did not see regret — only hunger.
"You want revenge," Kaelen said.
Valen's eyes glinted. "Yes."
Kaelen's lips curved. "Then serve me. Be my shadow, and I will give you war."
Valen knelt, his hand pressed to his chest. "Then my blade is yours… my king."
And from that night onward, Valen became the whisper that killed in silence, the blade that never missed, the shadow that obeyed no light but Kaelen's will.
But now… that shadow was gone.
---
Kaelen's gauntlet struck the armrest with a metallic crack. The echo rippled through the hall like thunder.
"Damn it all," he hissed. "Valen… you were my weapon. My strength. My only—"
The torches dimmed.
The air shifted, thick and cold, as shadows pooled across the floor. The sound of wind died, replaced by a deep hum — like the breath of the abyss.
A voice drifted through the darkness — smooth, mocking, and cruelly calm.
"You mourn too loudly, Kaelen. Kings should not weep where their walls can listen."
Kaelen froze. His hand went to his sword.
"You…" he growled.
The darkness unfurled, and Lucifer stepped forth — his robes rippling like liquid night, his crimson eyes gleaming beneath the hood. The faint smile on his lips was more unsettling than any blade.
"You dare walk into my hall after—" Kaelen began, but Lucifer raised a hand.
"After killing your pet assassin?" he interrupted. "Please. He came to his death willingly. Shadows obey the stronger master."
Kaelen's fury flared. "You mock me, devil?"
"I test you," Lucifer said. "And you've already passed."
He began circling the throne, voice soft as silk. "You crave dominion, Kaelen. You always have. You built your empire on blood, yet still you kneel beneath the gods who pity you."
Kaelen's sword arm tensed. "What do you want?"
Lucifer stopped in the moonlight, his face half-illuminated. "The same thing you do — dominion. But not just over men. Over the realms themselves."
"The realms?" Kaelen frowned. "You speak madness."
Lucifer chuckled, and the torches flared black. "The Crown of Life is gone, and with it, the balance between worlds. Mortals stumble in the dark, and immortals fight like beasts for scraps of divinity. I intend to claim what remains — and forge a new order."
Kaelen's grip faltered slightly. "You're not Gerald…"
"Gerald is dead," Lucifer replied softly. "I am what he feared to become."
He leaned closer. "I am Lucifer, Lord of Shadows."
The flames dimmed until only his eyes burned red in the gloom.
Kaelen exhaled sharply. "You are insane."
Lucifer smiled. "Perhaps. But insanity is only another word for vision too great for small minds."
He extended his hand. "Work with me, Kaelen. You rule the mortal throne. I rule the immortal. Together, we end the gods' tyranny."
Kaelen's pride warred with reason. He wanted to spit in Lucifer's face — yet the promise, the power, the vengeance… they whispered louder than his fear.
"You could have killed me," Kaelen said at last. "Yet you didn't."
Lucifer's tone turned almost kind. "Even devils need allies. And you, my king, are far too ambitious to waste."
A long silence.
Then Kaelen extended his hand.
"Very well. We have a pact."
Lucifer's grin deepened. "So be it."
The air rippled. Shadows slithered up his arm, coiling around Kaelen's gauntlet as their hands met — a silent seal forged in darkness.
"Then until next time, King of Mortals."
And with a swirl of smoke, Lucifer vanished, leaving only the echo of his laughter.
Kaelen stood alone once more, the chill seeping into his bones.
He whispered to the empty hall, "That man… what is he?"
---
Elsewhere — Across the Realms
Lucifer's laughter did not end in Drakthar.
That night, seven kingdoms dreamed the same nightmare.
---
In Velmora, the kingdom beneath the sea, Queen Nerida woke to the sound of breaking glass. Her throne room was flooded — black water rising from the marble floor.
Lucifer stood upon it, barefoot, untouched. His reflection shimmered across the surface like a phantom.
"Submit," he said, his voice carrying like a tide, "or drown with your empire."
When she tried to summon her sea guardians, the water obeyed him instead. It coiled around her throne, forming a crown of ink. She bent the knee as her palace sank.
---
In Eryndor, the kingdom of light, Lucifer walked through their sacred flame unharmed. Priests screamed as their prayers burned their tongues. The light turned crimson as he passed, and the bells in the cathedral melted into slag.
"Your gods are silent," he whispered to the high priest, placing a hand on his trembling head. "Mine never were."
---
In Kaelthome, the citadel of warriors, blades shattered in their scabbards. The generals raised their warhorns — but no sound came. The shadows beneath their feet rose like serpents, devouring the light.
By dawn, even their mountain bowed.
---
By the time the sun rose again, the kingdoms of Aetheris had fallen silent.
Lucifer stood atop the highest spire of Auronvale, his cloak billowing in the red dawn. Beneath him, the world stretched like a conquered map — seas dark, mountains hollow, cities burning faintly in the distance.
And as his shadow reached across the horizon, a new order was written.