The morning fog clung to the earth like a secret the world refused to let go. The path ahead was silent — only the sound of boots against wet soil, a faint creak of old leather, and the lazy shuffle of a man who clearly didn't want to be awake.
Sora yawned loudly enough to scare a crow off a tree.
"Another day, another existential crisis."
Beside him, Dorte adjusted his travel cloak, half a smile under his breath. "You sound like a man blessed with purpose."
Sora: "I sound like a man cursed with responsibility. Big difference."
The two walked down a winding road that cut through the misty borderlands — a place once filled with churches and merchant caravans, now just a graveyard of stones and half-buried ruins. Behind them followed three small shadows, drifting lazily across the road — his loyal, if not always competent, minions.
Minion A: "My Lord, I sense something… ahead. The air hums like a hymn."
Sora: "Good. Maybe it's a restaurant."
Minion B: "Or a monster."
Sora: "Even better. Free protein."
Dorte snorted. "You really do find optimism in chaos."
Sora: "I call it 'coping.' Works better than prayer."
They continued until the fog began to thin — revealing a vast valley surrounded by jagged cliffs. The ruins of an ancient citadel lay sprawled at the center, half-consumed by black crystal and roots that pulsed faintly with violet light. Rivers of glowing veins ran beneath the cracked ground, tracing strange sigils in patterns too deliberate to be natural.
The wind howled through the ruins like a hymn from the abyss.
Sora stopped at the ridge, his eyes narrowing.
"…This place. It's old. Older than the gods who pretended to rule it."
Dorte folded his arms. "You sound like you've been here before."
Sora tilted his head slightly, as if listening to the faint whisper beneath the wind. "Maybe I have… in another lifetime."
---
They descended slowly, boots crunching against crystalline soil. The closer they came, the louder that pulse grew — a slow, rhythmic thrum, like the heartbeat of the world itself.
Minion A: "My Lord, should we proceed with caution?"
Sora: "No. We proceed with reckless curiosity. The difference is style."
He walked ahead, cloak brushing against the glowing cracks. The shadows around him stirred — stretching like black ribbons that melted into the ground.
When they reached the heart of the ruin, they found it — a vast, circular sanctuary carved into the rock itself. Towering pillars of obsidian reached toward a ceiling webbed with crystal veins, each one faintly glowing with lunar energy. In the center, a crescent-shaped emblem lay etched into the floor — entwined with the symbol of a black flame.
Sora stopped at the center, looking around in silence. For once, even he didn't make a joke.
Dorte: "What do you think it was?"
Sora: "Not what. Who."
He placed his hand on the crescent mark. A pulse of dark light answered — not cold, but… familiar.
The ruin trembled. Shadows rippled across the walls, forming faint outlines — a throne, a city skyline long gone, banners torn by centuries of wind.
Sora smiled faintly.
"…Yeah. This feels right."
He turned to his followers, the dark light reflecting in his eyes.
Sora: "From this day forth… this place shall be my domain — my sanctuary between dusk and dawn."
Minion B: "My Lord, what shall it be called?"
Sora paused for a moment, gazing up at the fractured ceiling where moonlight streamed through the cracks like soft tears.
Sora: "Domina Noctis."
Dorte raised an eyebrow. "Latin? You're getting poetic now."
Sora shrugged. "Means Mistress of the Night. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
Minion A: "It suits you, my Lord. A name of reverence… and mild intimidation."
Sora grinned. "Perfect. Just how I like it."
The three minions bowed deeply as shadows coiled around them, growing brighter and more defined. Sora extended his hand, the dark energy flowing like liquid silk through the air.
Sora: "You've followed me since the chaos began. It's about time you had names of your own."
He looked at the first — tall and composed, with a faint glimmer of silver in their eyes.
"You — your wit could cut through stone, and your sarcasm's been my only therapy. You'll be Umbra. My right hand."
The shadow bowed. "An honor, my Lord."
The second — smaller, twitchier, constantly paranoid.
"You — you worry too much, but you've saved my life more than you realize. You'll be Mora. Keeper of vigilance."
The third — broad, loyal, a bit slow but steadfast.
"And you… the one who always believes in me, even when I'm clearly wrong. You'll be Tenebris. My shield."
All three knelt, their forms stabilizing — no longer formless echoes, but true beings of shadow.
Dorte watched silently, arms crossed. "You give names like you give sarcasm — heavy and dramatic."
Sora: "Names are the foundation of existence. And besides…"
He smirked. "You're just jealous I didn't name you 'Dorke.'"
Dorte sighed. "If I ever start worshipping you, please kill me."
Sora: "You'd be surprised how often I hear that."
[Worldbuilding Interlude – Dorte's Curiosity]
As they began restoring the ruin, Dorte asked quietly, "So what now? Build a throne out of bones? Summon a few demons to staff your kitchen?"
Sora chuckled. "No. First, we build something that lasts. A sanctuary, a domain. A home for all things unwanted — the forgotten races, the broken, the misfits."
Dorte: "You're going to make an empire out of pity?"
Sora: "No. Out of purpose."
He turned, looking out at the shattered valley — where the faint light of other kingdoms shimmered beyond the fog.
"Beyond these cliffs lies a world full of prejudice and pride. Kingdoms of elves that worship beauty, oni tribes that worship strength, beastfolk that bow to gold, and humans who worship whatever's convenient."
Dorte: "And you?"
Sora smiled faintly. "I worship peace and good sarcasm."
Dorte laughed under his breath. "You're insane."
Sora: "And yet, here you are, following me."
The knight had no response to that.
Later that night, under the silver glow of the moon, Sora stood before the entrance of the ruin. The crescent symbol shone faintly behind him.
Dorte joined him, his usual stoic calm softening a bit. "You really mean to stay here, don't you?"
Sora nodded. "Yeah. The world's loud enough. Let it chase its wars and crowns. Here, I'll build something that doesn't need saving every Tuesday."
He looked up at the stars, eyes reflecting both the humor and exhaustion of someone far older than he looked.
"Where light ends…" he murmured,
"…rest begins."
The words echoed through the valley — soft, yet final.
Dorte looked at him. "That's your motto?"
Sora shrugged. "Simple. True. And dramatic enough to scare missionaries."
They stood together in silence — a saint's exile and a shadow's rebirth, under the same eternal moon.
The empire of dusk had been born.