"Lord Tertrol, I'm almost done with what we had planned. Very soon, we'll be able to put it into operation," said Meloc, adjusting one of the devices in his hand as he spoke. His tone was enthusiastic but laced with nervousness.
"Good, then very soon I will defeat that despicable Tejod," replied Tertrol, his voice deep and filled with hatred. "Every bone, every scream, every memory will be a delight for me." His words echoed like a dark refrain, brimming with a thirst for vengeance that seemed to consume him entirely. It was clear that Tejod represented more than just a simple enemy; he was an obstacle blocking Tertrol's path, a ghost that needed to be exorcised.
The two were conversing when, suddenly, the surrounding air distorted. A kind of rift appeared in the space before them, as if the very fabric of reality had torn apart. From the rift emerged a being cloaked in black robes, its hood completely obscuring its face. Nothing could be seen beneath that shadow, but its presence was overwhelming, as if darkness itself had taken physical form. An aura of pure evil emanated from it, accompanied by a faint sound of wails that seemed to come from another world.
"Master, it's… it's one of the Shadow Council!" exclaimed Meloc, his voice trembling and his eyes wide with panic. He instinctively stepped back, unable to tear his gaze away from the sinister figure.
The entity before them raised a gloved hand and spoke in a deep, rumbling voice laden with pain and authority. "Hail Urugas and his perpetual darkness."
"Yes, hail," responded Tertrol firmly, though he bowed slightly in a gesture of respect. Meloc, on the other hand, remained paralyzed, unable to utter a word in the face of the councilor's overwhelming presence.
"What brings you here, oh emissary of Urugas and member of the Shadow Council?" asked Tertrol, bowing more deeply to avoid looking directly at the figure. He knew that meeting its gaze would be a fatal mistake.
"Bow your head and kneel," Tertrol hissed under his breath to Meloc, noticing that the latter remained frozen, staring at the being before them. But Meloc didn't respond; he was trapped in a horrifying trance, as if the entity were probing his very soul. Irritated, Tertrol grabbed Meloc by the neck and forced his head down, snapping him out of his stupor abruptly.
With a demonic voice filled with mournful cries, the councilor spoke again: "I want you to gather your men. It is time to return to Tehtra."
"And the prisoners, your 'darkness'? What should I do with them?" asked Tertrol, his tone respectful but calculating.
The councilor replied without hesitation: "Place them in their cells and never let them out until the arrival of our lord."
"As you command, your wickedness," responded Tertrol, bowing even deeper. His voice was firm, but carried a forced reverence that left no room for error. He kept his head lowered, avoiding even the slightest eye contact with the sinister figure before him.
The councilor observed him silently for a moment, as if assessing his loyalty with an unseen gaze beneath the hood. Finally, he spoke with a voice that seemed to resonate from the depths of an abyss: "I await you in the barn. Do not delay." Without another word, his figure began to slowly fade, slipping back into the same rift that had brought him. The darkness closed behind him, swallowing the surrounding light until only a chilling void remained. The air left in his wake was heavy with an oppressive sensation, as if the room itself remembered his presence.
"What in the hell was that, sir!" exclaimed Meloc, finally regaining his ability to speak. His face was pale, and his hands trembled visibly.
"Those damned beings must never be looked at directly," Tertrol responded sternly, his voice as sharp as a knife. "They have no face, and if you do, they will fill you with pain and suffering. Do you understand, Meloc?"
Meloc nodded quickly, swallowing hard. "I had forgotten about them, but well... one step at a time," muttered Tertrol, more to himself than to his subordinate. "First Tejod, and then these."
"Yes, my lord," replied Meloc, trying to regain his composure.
"And one more thing," added Tertrol, frowning. "Lord, we have a problem. The prisoners escaped. Someone took them."
"Thank goodness you told me now. If that being had found out, he would have punished us," Tertrol growled in frustration. "Well, it's best you gather everyone and head to the barn. They'll be waiting for us there."
Meloc nodded hurriedly and ran off to carry out the order, leaving Tertrol lost in thought. The shadow leader gazed toward where the councilor had stood, his expression tense but resolute. He knew time was running out, and the next moves would be critical.
"Opal, prepare our things; we're leaving," Tertrol ordered his mage, who nodded without uttering a word. Opal's efficiency was well-known by all, but this time there was an air of urgency that left no room for delays.
Tertrol's entire army gathered in the barn just as the councilor had instructed. Once there, the air began to vibrate, and a massive rift opened in the space before them. It was as if the very fabric of reality had torn apart, revealing an endless, dark void. Without hesitation, Tertrol led his men into the rift, vanishing completely from the realm of Hassdalia.
In Fuertelia, something similar was unfolding. A dark being appeared before Troba, whose imposing figure seemed even more menacing under the shadow of its hood. Galatea, using what Meliradal had provided her, transformed into the golden badger, along with her two daughters and a handful of soldiers, who adopted the appearance of yellow shadow warriors. Something in her instincts warned Galatea not to look directly into the eyes of the mysterious visitor. Following her intuition, she warned the others of the danger, and together, they stepped into a rift that suddenly opened in the space, vanishing without a trace.
The same occurred in Bacadolia and Pinkertalia, where Trebolg and Mejod, respectively, received visits from other shadow councilors. Both leaders, without a second's hesitation, abandoned their realms along with their armies, leaving the villagers locked in makeshift prisons, at the mercy of fate. The kingdoms fell silent, as if life itself had been ripped from them.
Meanwhile, Blajon and his entire army were already far from Reedalia when something ahead of them began to crack open. As if space itself were breaking apart, a shadow councilor emerged. With a deep, resonant voice, it instructed them to follow. Without questioning, Blajon and his men entered what appeared to be a dimensional portal, disappearing from the site.
When the rift reopened, it revealed a chilling panorama: Tehtra, the capital of shadows. The structures were dark, constructed from a material blacker than night, almost metallic, with an unsettling blend of ancient and modern design. In the distance loomed a monumental castle, its twisted towers and grotesque forms making it appear as though it had been torn from a nightmare. The atmosphere was oppressive, saturated with a malignant energy that seemed to drain any trace of hope.
"Ah, back home again," muttered Blajon as he stepped down from his carriage. He inhaled deeply the putrid air and smiled with satisfaction. "It's just as I left it: a foul and hideous place, just the way I like it."
"Follow me this way," commanded the dark councilor, heading toward the castle. Blajon and his army followed until they reached the main entrance. When the massive doors creaked open, they emitted a sharp, sinister screech, as if originating from beyond the grave.
"This way, leader of the black shadows. Only you," said the councilor, pointing inside. "The rest of you, go to your respective places."
Blajon nodded and crossed the threshold alone, the doors slamming shut behind him with an even more piercing screech. As he entered, the hallway lit up with a series of flames in various colors: yellow, green, blue, black, purple, and red, interspersed among one another. Each flame seemed to pulse with its own life, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Blajon walked behind the hooded figure, following the illuminated path until they reached a grand ivory door adorned with skulls around its frame.
The door opened with a deafening creak, revealing a vast, dark chamber. In the center stood a circular table, surrounded by figures emanating an overwhelming presence. "Ah, you've finally arrived, the last shadow leader," came a voice from the shadows. Already seated at the table were the other four faction delegates, accompanied by a shadow councilor whose hood seemed to absorb every trace of light.
Blajon slowly took his seat, his usual confidence wavering under the weight of the oppressive atmosphere. He expected to be questioned about his sudden departure from Reedalia, but that moment never came. Instead, two more shadows appeared in the room, completing the seven members of the Shadow Council. The air grew even heavier, as if resisting movement itself.
The tallest hooded figure, who clearly led the group, glided smoothly across the table, as if he were an incorporeal shadow. The other six materialized beside him, and suddenly, a platform emerged from the floor bearing seven chairs carved from a dark material that seemed to vibrate with malevolent energy. The councilors took their seats, while black firebirds appeared, floating in the air and projecting a hologram displaying Tejod. Upon seeing them, he bowed deeply. "My lords," he said respectfully, addressing the seven dark figures before him.
"Well, now that we are all here," echoed a feminine voice among the councilors. It was terrifying, laden with a cruelty so pure it seemed capable of killing with mere words. The other six emitted a guttural sound, a deep lament that resonated in the ears of the badger leaders, leaving them momentarily paralyzed. Tejod, observing silently from the hologram, remained stoic.
The tallest of the councilors, with a voice that seemed to emanate from the depths of hell, spoke: "I have summoned all of you here because we are nearing the final stage. It is time to begin preparations. The era of Urugas will soon commence." He paused, allowing his words to resonate throughout the chamber before continuing. "Prepare yourselves for his arrival. You will finally meet him, and he will lead us to victory... and to the ruin of our enemies."
He gestured with his hand, and the flames of the firebirds crackled more intensely, briefly illuminating their concealed faces. "Command your soldiers and prepare to travel to Avocadolia. From there, we will journey to the Sea of Mist to extinguish the last flame of light from the being known as Avocios. With that, our lord will return from his prison."
"Yes, we serve Urugas, master of darkness!" responded all the badger leaders in unison, their voices filled with fervor, though some trembled slightly under the unseen gaze of the councilors.
Meanwhile, Galatea, disguised under the appearance of Troba, struggled internally against the fear consuming her. "What have I gotten myself into?" she thought to herself, trying to maintain a façade of strength. Her breathing was shallow, and her hands trembled within the gloves that concealed her true identity. She knew that one misstep could cost her life, but she also understood that this was her only chance to uncover the shadows' plans from within.