The shadows lay in heaps of cinder around him. Their ashes drifted like snow, staining his clothes in streaks of grey. The smell lingered—iron, rot, and smoke—and Darnell's chest heaved as if he had just run a marathon.
He stared at his trembling hands.
Violet threads of light crawled under his skin, pulsing with each beat of his heart. They felt alive, alien, yet… natural.
I killed them. No—I destroyed them. But if I hadn't…
His thoughts tangled. Fear and adrenaline clawed at him, but underneath it all was something worse.
Relief.
He was still alive.
"…No. That's not enough."
The words spilled out without thought, his voice swallowed by the choking air. He clenched his fist, watching the violet sparks fade.
"If I'm here, there has to be a reason."
The silence didn't answer. Only the echo of that earlier voice—layered, inhuman, inevitable—haunted the corners of his mind. Rise, outcast…
His stomach twisted. He had never believed in destiny. He had barely believed in himself. Back home, he had been the guy who blended into the grey background of life—too quiet, too invisible, too… replaceable.
But here, in this nightmare of a world, power surged in his veins. Real, terrifying, undeniable.
And if the world itself had chosen him… maybe this was his second chance.
⸻
The distant chanting returned, carried on the wind like whispers crawling under the skin. He looked up. Beyond the shattered black spires, faint lights flickered—a settlement, perhaps, or torches in the mist.
Civilization.
Hope stirred in his chest.
He forced his aching legs to move, stumbling across cracked earth until he reached the base of a jagged ridge. Each step was heavy, but he pushed forward, clinging to the thought like a drowning man to driftwood:
There are people here. People who can explain. People who can help me.
He crested the ridge and saw it—an outpost of stone and wood clinging to the ruins of an ancient wall. Fires burned in iron braziers, casting long shadows over figures moving inside. Human figures.
Darnell's breath caught. His throat tightened with something dangerously close to joy.
"Thank God… I'm not alone."
⸻
The gates loomed ahead, carved from bone and blackened timber. Guards in scavenged armor stood watch, their faces hidden behind iron masks. Spears rested lazily in their hands.
As Darnell approached, one raised his weapon in warning.
"Halt. Who goes there?"
The voice was muffled, harsh.
Darnell lifted his hands, palms open. "I—I don't mean any harm! My name is Darnell. I… I don't know how I got here, but—"
The other guard barked a laugh. "Another stray from the Veil? Damn things keep dropping in, and half of them don't last a day."
The first guard tilted his head, studying him. "Survived the Wraithspawn, did you? You're either lucky, or cursed."
Darnell swallowed, his pulse racing. "Please. I just… I need help. Food, water. Answers."
A pause. Then, the first guard lowered his spear and motioned. "Very well. Enter, outsider. But mind this—every kindness has a price."
⸻
The gates creaked open, and the stench of smoke and sweat rolled out to greet him. Inside, the outpost pulsed with grim life.
Children darted between tents made of patched cloth and leather. Blacksmiths hammered on jagged steel, sparks flying. Merchants bartered over bloodstained relics, their voices sharp and hungry.
Darnell's heart pounded. This was no paradise, but it was something. People. A chance to understand.
He wandered deeper, drinking it all in. Yet everywhere his eyes landed, despair lingered. Hollow stares, missing limbs, the ever-present scars of survival.
Still, he forced himself to smile faintly. I can help. I have power—I can use it. I won't be useless anymore.
⸻
A hand caught his wrist.
He flinched, turning. A girl stood there, cloaked in rags, her eyes wide and desperate. She couldn't have been older than sixteen.
"Please," she whispered, voice hoarse. "My brother—he's sick. The priests won't see him. They say he's worthless. But… you're not from here, are you? You're different. I saw the light in your hands."
Her grip tightened. "Please. Help him."
Darnell's chest tightened. His heart screamed yes—finally, a chance. A purpose.
"Take me to him," he said.
The girl's eyes flooded with relief. She pulled him into the maze of tents, down a narrow alley where the firelight barely reached.
And as he followed, something stirred deep inside him—something fragile, dangerous, and beautiful.
Hope.