He woke up abruptly, with a heavy sigh, as if he had just surfaced from deep water. He was lying on his side in a rumpled bed, the sheets had been thrown off, the pillow was a mess, and the cold was touching his skin.
Rayna wasn't there.
The empty space next to her still held her warmth.
He sat up. His hair fell over his face, and his eyes stung. Her shirt was lying on the floor. The traces, the scent, the breath—everything told him that the night had been real. He didn't remember all the details, but he knew that something had happened between them. Something deeper than just touching. Deeper because now he had a crack inside him. Or, perhaps, a seam.
He stood up, put on his black cloak, and left the room. The corridor was quiet. The servants were trying to be quiet—since Kallen had taken over the palace, silence had become the rule.
He headed for the stairs, but he could feel someone's presence even before he turned the corner.
"You look like you haven't slept in a week," Celia said.
She was sitting on a wide window-sill, her legs curled up, a cup in her hands. The morning sun was shining through the stained glass and illuminating her face.
"Thank you," he chuckled, stepping closer. "I'm glad you can still be straightforward."
"I can't lie. Especially to you."
He nodded silently and sat down opposite her, in a low chair. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.
"Do you... do you want to talk?" she asked quietly. "About your mother. About Noreia. About... us."
Kallen clenched his fists.
"It's useless to talk. We need to act now. She's going to make a move. So am I."
Celia looked down.
"You know, I'm always afraid to wake up and find that you've disappeared. That you'll leave again. Or... that you'll be gone."
He looked at her. His sister's eyes were red, but there were no tears. Celia never cried in front of others. She was strong. Or she tried to be.
"I'm not leaving," he said. "Not until this is over."
At that moment, he felt a sudden surge.
The tattoo on his body... twitched.
As if she were alive. A creeping warmth ran from her shoulder down her neck and up to her face. Kalen jumped up, tripping over a chair. Celia cried out:
"Kalen?"
He clutched his head.
"Don't come near!" he croaked.
A force pierced his spine, and a flash like a spear of light struck his forehead.
Pulse... pulse... Pulse…
The dragon tattoo covered half of his face. The black swirls pulsed red like a brand. A hoarse voice spoke from within his skull:
"My Lord… You are weak. You are soft. You have once again allowed yourself to… feel."
"Shut up," Kalen hissed, gritting his teeth.
"You have forgotten what you are to become. Your pain is nothing. Suffering lies ahead. Death. Power. I will take this body. Remember what it is to be a Shadow."
His vision blurred. Everything around him turned black and red. He took a step and disappeared.
Celia ran to the spot in horror and realized that her brother was gone.
Somewhere in the void, Kalen floated in a place where there was no earth or sky.
And his body... moved on its own.
He felt the Dragon taking control. His fingers curled against his will. His eyes burned like a demon's.
"This is..." Kallen breathed. "A test?"
"This is a reminder. You are not human. You are the heir of the Shadow."
The world is split.
Kallen didn't feel his body. It moved on its own. His arms felt like they belonged to someone else. His feet walked through the air, leaving cracks in the very fabric of reality.
"You're weak."
The Dragon's voice echoed within his skull, like a sound in a bottomless cave.
"But you are my vessel. My flesh. My revenge."
Then he waved his hand.
Not his own. The dragon, in Kalen's body, raised his hand to the sky.
And the sky exploded.
Wings of black fire unfolded behind the back of a boy who had recently turned fifteen. A flame erupted from his chest. Not an ordinary flame, but an anti-magical one. It burned everything it touched: the air, the walls, the people, and the souls.
One of the oldest human cities fell in twenty minutes.
547,000 people died.
Pregnant women. Infants. The elderly. Scientists. Warriors. Magicians. Even the shadows have disappeared.
And he saw through their eyes. Kalen saw everything. Through the eyes of the dragon in his body.
"No... no..." he wheezed, somewhere inside, chained to the void like a prisoner.
But the Dragon only chuckled. "Now you're truly born. Born in pain. Born in blood. Born in hate."
And then he teleported.
To the room where Reina was.
She stood by the window, wrapped in a blanket, her red hair falling over her shoulders. She was smiling, not knowing what was to come.
"Kalen?" — What is it? " she asked. — Why are you covered in ... ashes?"
He entered. His steps were heavy. His gaze was inhuman.
She froze. Something in her sensed a threat.
— Are you... okay?"
He was silent.
And then-hit.
Claws. No, his fingers turned into blades.
Reina's chest burst open. Her scarlet eyes widened in confusion. She didn't scream. She just looked at him, choking on blood.
"Kale...n..." she whispered.
And she died.
Only then did Kalen break free.
A scream. A real one. In pain.
He returned to his body when it was too late.
She was lying on the floor, in a pool of her own blood. Her red hair was plastered to her face. There was a half-smile on her lips. It was as if, even in her death, she didn't hate him.
"NO!" he screamed.
He rushed to her, embraced her cold body, and shook her as if that would change anything.
"I... I didn't want to... It's not me..." He was trembling, sobbing, crying for the first time in his life.
And the tattoo on his body was pulsating again. Almost his entire face was covered in a pattern of darkness. Power was bubbling in his veins.
And the horror.
***
On the evening of the same day, an urgent message was sent through magical channels:
"Kalen Lionheart is on the global wanted list for the destruction of a city, mass murder, the use of forbidden 9th circle magic, and the loss of human form. Reward: 10 million gold. Destruction is allowed."
And the whole world turned its attention to him.
The dragon subsided.
It didn't disappear; it went quiet. Like an animal that had fed on blood and returned to its cage, curled up somewhere beneath Kallen's skin. But his breath still vibrated beneath his ribs, and his heart beat to an ancient, cruel, and relentless rhythm.
Kalen sat on the ruins. His knees were covered in black dust, and his fingers were covered in blood. Someone else's blood. His own blood. He didn't know where one started and the other ended. His body was shaking, but not from the cold. For the first time, he didn't understand what was happening to him.
Raina is dead.
547,000 souls are dead.
He's a... murderer. No. A tool. A carrier.
And yet, there was blood on his hands.
"Sir," Ward's voice rang out.
The shadow emerged from the hall, broken but loyal. He looked at Kalen like a dying beast, but without fear. Without pity.
— You have to leave.
Kallen raised his head. His face was covered in abrasions, one eyebrow was torn, and his eyes were blank.
"Leave?.. — What is it? " he whispered.
— They're coming. The city guards. The high mages. The priests. They want to execute you. Publicly. Without a trial. Without words.
Kalen didn't flinch.
"All right," he said. "Let them kill me."
Ward stepped closer. His silhouette swayed as if a storm were raging within him.
"No. It's not the time. You must live. Otherwise... she died in vain."
She.
The name was not spoken. But Kalen understood.
He clenched his jaw. He stood up. He looked back at the wreckage of the hall. There, on the side, was the blanket that Reina had used that night.
He didn't take it. He left it there.
Ward raised his hand. The space around him groaned and cracked.
Portal.
The shadows twisted into a spiral, swallowing up part of the hall. Inside, there was a forest. A dense forest. A dead forest. A forest filled with dampness, rot, and something... alien.
"I will take you to another continent," said Ward. "To a forest where no man has set foot. Where even the shadows are afraid to speak."
— Why there?"
"Because you've become something even the gods fear."
Kalen nodded.
He didn't say goodbye. He didn't hug. He didn't cry. He stepped into the portal without a sound.
The forest accepted him like a snake accepts a new skin.
The darkness was thick. The air was damp. The branches were like claws. There were no sounds or light. Even the stars didn't look down.
He took a few steps, and the portal disappeared behind him.
He was left alone.
Alone, with the Dragon's breath inside. With a burning tattoo that reached his cheekbone. With a mind that cracked under the weight of death. With a heart that didn't know if it was still beating out of love or out of guilt.
He got down on his knees. He didn't cry.
I just stared into the darkness.
[End of Volume 1: The Shadow]