Lucian Veyra had never been a lucky man. Not that he'd ever cared much—he liked solitude, the quiet hum of his apartment, the distant city lights flickering like restless spirits. But luck, or the cruel absence of it, had a way of catching up with you when you least expected it.
It was raining. The kind of rain that felt like needles stabbing your skin, cold and relentless. Lucian clutched his jacket tighter, racing across the slick streets. He hadn't even noticed the headlights coming at him.
A sharp screech of tires, a blinding flash of light… and then nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, the world had changed.
No rain. No streets. No city lights. Only a heavy, oppressive darkness stretching infinitely. The air was thick, almost alive, humming with a strange energy that made his skin prickle. He tried to stand, but his body felt… different. Stronger. Yet alien.
"Where… am I?" His voice sounded strange, echoing unnaturally in the void.
A shadow moved. Not a shadow cast by light, but a living darkness, writhing and whispering in voices he could somehow understand. It seeped into his mind, brushing against his memories, his fears, his regrets.
"You are dead," it whispered, a thousand voices layered into one. "But death is only the beginning."
Lucian's heart pounded. "Who… who are you?"
"We are the shadows. We are what you feel, what you hide, what you deny. Anger, fear, despair… we are hunger, and we are power. And now, you belong to us."
As the words sank in, Lucian felt a pull deep within him. A craving he had never known. When a memory of his failures—mocking classmates, the betrayal of a so-called friend, the emptiness of his lonely life—flashed through his mind, the shadows licked at it, whispering, coaxing.
Instinctively, he reached for it. The darkness flowed into him, and for the first time, Lucian felt… alive.
Power surged through him, intoxicating and terrifying. Every bitter memory, every pang of anger or sorrow, fed the shadows within him—and in return, they granted him strength beyond comprehension.
But along with the thrill came a chilling realization. This power… was not free. Every emotion consumed left a mark on him, a shadow in his soul, a growing hunger that whispered, more, always more.
Lucian staggered, overwhelmed, but exhilarated. He could feel it: this world, this strange new existence, was not like his old life. Every living being here exuded emotions he could sense, absorb, devour. The possibilities… were endless.
A figure appeared ahead, tall and cloaked in black. Its face was hidden, but the aura of fear and anger radiated so strongly Lucian almost stumbled. The shadow within him twitched, hungry.
"Consume it," the darkness whispered. "Grow. Survive."
Lucian took a deep breath, feeling the first taste of true power as he stepped forward. His hand reached out, and the anger, fear, and despair of the figure flowed into him like molten fire. Every fiber of his being screamed at the ecstasy of it.
When it was done, the figure crumpled silently, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of its emotions. Lucian staggered back, panting, trembling… and laughing. Not out of joy, but something deeper, darker.
He was alive. He was powerful. And in this world, he would rise by feeding on the shadows of others.
The darkness whispered again, now with a tone of approval. Rise, Lucian Veyra. Rise, and let the world tremble beneath the weight of your hunger.
And so, the boy who had died in a rainy street began a journey that would shake the foundations of life, death, and everything in between.
To be continued....