The sharp, rhythmic sound of steel hitting Arin's opponent's blade echoed through the air. As the sun sank lower in the Realm of Day, dust swirled in the training yard and golden light spilled across the stone floor. He moved with the effortless elegance of a man who had spent his entire life in peril. Attack, block, and turn. Arin moved forward as his opponent faltered, the tip of his blade halting just inches from the man's throat.
"surrender," he said, calmly but firmly.
Grunting, the soldier dropped his sword. The sound of surrender echoed faintly in the air. A few villagers who had gathered to watch cheered. Children whispered his name like a legend: Arin Deynar, the adventurer who had crossed deserts, seas, and mountains to win the crown. Some considered him fearless. Others labeled him reckless. Both were true.
Arin lowered his weapon and gave the soldier a nod. "Good fight," he exclaimed, sheathing the blade. He turned to reach for his water flask when he noticed a shadow fall across the yard.
The king's herald stood there, robed in gold and crimson, his expression grim. "Arin Deynar," he said, his voice heavy with urgency. "The King has summoned you. "At once.
The crowd fell silent. Never was a king's summons taken lightly.
Arin dabbed at his sweat and slung the flask at his hip. "Lead the way." He said.
King Theron's throne room was enormous, with marble floors illuminated by stained-glass windows. Beside the throne, where the elderly king leaned heavily on one arm, a large oaken table was covered with maps and scrolls. His crown appeared to be a gold-carved burden rather than a sign of glory.
Arin went in and knelt down. "My king, you called for me."
Theron watched him, eyes darkened not by age but by concern.The evening weakens.Arin frowned.The Velvet Dusk? Just uttering the name sent a shiver through the atmosphere.That obstacles haven't moved in millennia.The maps showed a black crack drawn across the twilight boundary, and the king motioned there.Cracks have been reported by scouts.Near our villages, creatures born of darkness have been seen.Two died last night.More is still to come.
Arin curled his hand into a fist. Dusk creatures are half shadow and half nightmare. Few men lived long enough for their descriptions.
"Do you want me to hunt them?" Arin asked.
"No." The king's voice dropped like stone. "I want you to go into dusk."
The chamber appeared to tighten around him. "Into the Dusk?" Arin repeated, her disbelief evident. "My king, no one who enters will return."
Theron's eyes burned from the weight of command. "That's why I need you. You've gone where others have feared to tread. You've encountered seas that swallowed fleets." If anyone can survive the dusk, it's you."
Arin's jaws tightened. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to say he'd already lost too much; that adventure was a curse with no visible scars. But he remembered the villagers' faces, the children whispering his name in hope. What would happen if he turned his back right now?
He bowed his head. "When am I leaving?"
The king placed his hand on his shoulders. "Before sunrise.
Arin did not speak that night. His room had a faint leather and steel odor, the scent of a man who was always ready for battle. A satchel contained dry rations, a flask, and a blade whetstone. He paused at the bed's edge, looking at the table's small wooden pendant. It was carved to resemble a bird with wings spread.
His sister gave it to him years ago, just before she was killed in a border raid. "So you can always find your way back," she had said.
Arin closed his hand around it, his memories heavy and sharp. He fastened it around his neck. "I'll return," he said quietly, as if no one could hear him.
Dawn blazed across the horizon, painting the sky gold. Arin rode hard toward the border, the sun on his back and the road winding through empty fields. Farmers watched from a distance, their faces tense. Everyone knew he was going. Nobody was envious of him.
By midday, the scenery began to shift. The air became more cold,and the sky became darker, as if sunlight itself was afraid to approach. The horizon ahead shifted strangely, like a reflection in water. The Velvet Dusk.
Arin reduced his horse's speed. The barrier rose before him like a twilight mist, shining dimly in purple and blue, half-light and half-darkness twisting together. It surged as if alive, like a heartbeat stretching over the globe. His horse whinnied and stomped, unwilling to get any closer.
Arin stroked its mane as he dismounted. "Stay here, old friend." He let go of the reins and took a step forward. The air crackled and was heavy with tension. As he reached out, fingertips brushing against the mist, his skin prickled. It seemed silky soft, yet beneath it was ancient, massive, and frightening power.
He drew his sword, the blade gleaming with captured sunlight. One step, then another. The mist parted reluctantly, swallowing him whole.
Inside, the world twisted. Colors bled together golden skies tangled with stars, shadows slithering across fractured earth. Trees grew like bones, their branches dripping light instead of leaves. Creatures stirred in the haze, their eyes glinting with hunger.
Arin tightened his grip on his sword. Every sense screamed at him to turn back, but retreat was no longer an option.
A growl broke the silence. From the mist, a beast emerged its body twisted, half-flesh and half-shadow, jaws lined with jagged teeth. It lunged. Arin sidestepped, blade flashing, cutting deep into its flank. Black smoke hissed from the wound, but the creature did not fall.
It turned on him again. Another shape moved in the mist, circling. His pulse quickened. One against two he could manage. But three, four? The mist shifted with more shadows.
He braced himself, preparing for the inevitable.
Then light blazed up.
The second beast screamed as a burst of starlight struck it, and its corpse disintegrated into smoke. The other people backed away. A woman dressed in dark robes moved forward from the haze, her hands burning faintly with silver fire. Her gaze met his, sharp as a sword and as deep as the night sky.
"Fool," she whispered in a low, steady voice that sounded like a warning.
Arin gripped his weapon more firmly. "And yet," he replied, panting but unflinching, "here I am." Once more, the animals circled and snarled, but the woman held up her hand, her palm slightly swollen. "If you wish to survive, stay near." Even if it was risky, Arin smiled half-heartedly. "I wasn't going to die today." A warrior and a sorceress stood side by side against the fading light. And destiny stirred amidst the haze.