The Guardian and the Archon The Cursed Shadow

Shadows in the Night

The city of Tenebrous clung to twilight like a secret refused to share. Buildings stretched skyward, their jagged spires clawing at the dim sky, as though trying to hold back the sun's retreat. Shadows gathered in the crooked alleyways, whispering against the flickering torches that did little to push them back.

"Hey kid! finish all these weapons as soon as possible." The man shouted to Kael rushing him to finish his blacksmithing.

But Kael just gave him a cold stare and he quickly grabbed the metals with full force.

"Old thug," he murmured.

Kael Darkhaven trudged through the narrow streets, his boots splashing in shallow puddles left by an earlier rain. The cold air stung his cheeks, and the scent of damp stone and burning wood filled his nostrils. His apprentice blacksmith's uniform clung to him, still warm and smelling faintly of iron and sweat. He clutched his leather satchel tightly, though there wasn't much in it-just a loaf of bread and a few spare coins.

The market district was behind him now, its noise and bustle fading into the distance. He longed to reach the quiet of his small apartment, but something about tonight felt... wrong.

Kael quickened his pace.

The shadows seemed to shift and writhe, like they had a life of their own. He shook his head, brushing off the thought. It wasn't unusual for Tenebrous to feel eerie after dark. The city had earned its name for a reason.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

The wind howled through the alleyway, carrying with it the faint sound of footsteps behind him. Kael glanced over his shoulder, his heart hammering in his chest. Nothing. Just the same empty street lined with shuttered windows and flickering torchlight.

He exhaled and kept walking, the cobblestones slick beneath his boots.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead. Tall, cloaked, with piercing eyes that seemed to gleam in the dim light. Kael froze, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his feet felt rooted to the ground.

"Kael Darkhaven," the man said, his voice low and commanding.

Kael swallowed hard. "Who's asking?"

The stranger tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "I've been looking for you. There's no time for pleasantries-I need you to listen carefully."

"Listen to what?" Kael's voice was sharper than he intended, though he couldn't hide the tremor in it.

The man ignored the question and instead reached into his cloak. Kael tensed, his hand instinctively moving to the small hammer strapped to his belt. But the stranger didn't draw a weapon. Instead, he produced a folded piece of parchment, its edges frayed and stained.

"Take this."

Kael hesitated but eventually reached out, his fingers brushing against the rough surface of the parchment. The moment he touched it, a strange warmth spread through his hand, as if the letter itself were alive.

"What's this supposed to mean?" he asked, frowning at the cryptic symbol scrawled in black ink across the front. It looked like an eye surrounded by jagged lines, almost like rays of light-or cracks in glass.

The man's expression darkened. "It's the key to your past, and the start of your future. Meet me at the old windmill tomorrow night. Come alone."

Before Kael could respond, the man melted back into the shadows, his cloak blending with the darkness until he was gone.

For a moment, Kael just stood there, the letter heavy in his hand. The sounds of the city seemed distant now, muffled by the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

He shook himself out of his stupor and hurried home, his thoughts a whirlwind of questions.

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