Chapter 4: The Shadow That Spoke
The moment the figure stepped from the mist, time seemed to halt.
Thalen stared at the twisted reflection of a man he once called "Father." It had been five years since the last time he saw him — a proud, battle-hardened man in gleaming Solamnic armor, leading his unit north to repel a Dragon Army raid. They had never recovered his body.
Now, that man — or something wearing his shape — stood before him, cloaked in shadow and hate, eyes glowing with violet fire. The shape was familiar, the stance almost comforting. But there was nothing human left in the voice.
"Thalen," it rasped. "You look like your mother."
Kaela shifted beside him, stepping between Thalen and the figure, her blade ready. Her eyes flicked to Thalen's face, searching for guidance. His hands trembled.
"That... that can't be him. That isn't him."
But he knew. Even beneath the corruption, even twisted by dark magic, he knew that voice. It clawed into the softest part of his memories. The nights around a hearth. The firm hand on his shoulder when he earned his first spellbook. The rare, precious smile when he'd made his father proud.
Now that mouth curled in something far colder.
"I was chosen,"