The heavy wooden door of the Wayside Inn creaked open, letting in a gust of cold night air and a swirl of voices. Chris Valemir slipped through, hood pulled low, shoulders tense. Around him, the common room buzzed with activity—travelers nursing ale, merchants counting coins, and whispered rumors that flickered like wildfire.
He hated places like this.
Crowded, noisy, full of ears—some loyal, some dangerous. They'd been running for days, evading Umbraxis hunters and royal soldiers alike. The world they'd known was shrinking fast, corners growing darker with every step.
Damian followed closely, eyes scanning every shadow, every face. The mask had come off after the masquerade, but the weight of their secret lives bore down harder than ever.
Chris found a corner table under a cracked window, the faint glow of lantern light illuminating the grim lines on his face. He settled down, trying to blend in. The wounds from the Tempest Cliffs had started to sting again, but the pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside.
The tavern chatter ebbed and flowed, but then a phrase caught his attention.
"...traitor to the Crown…"
"...Valemir, that fool knight… declared enemy of Solaria…"
"…captured or dead by dawn, or the Emperor demands blood…"
Chris froze, heart hammering.
His name—his fate—was being spoken aloud, openly, as if he were already dead.
He lowered his head, listening.
A group of burly men by the fire argued over the royal proclamation.
"The Emperor doesn't tolerate traitors," one barked, slamming his mug. "Valemir turned his back on his vows."
Another growled, "And the Umbraxis hunting the shadow mage with him? That only means worse. A double betrayal."
Chris clenched his fists beneath the table, jaw tight. This was the moment his life had irrevocably changed.
Damian reached for his arm, voice quiet but steady. "We're not safe here. We never were."
Chris nodded, pushing back his chair. "We have to find answers. The prophecy. The reason they want us dead."
The two slipped out the door, swallowed by the night.
The Journey to the Ruins
For days, they traveled in silence, through forests thick with ancient magic and mountains scarred by forgotten wars. Each step brought them closer to the ruins whispered about in old legends—an ancient temple said to hold secrets about the fate of the realm.
Damian's shadow magic flared softly in the dark, a beacon and a shield. Chris's sword hung at his side, ever ready.
One evening, beneath a sky bruised purple with twilight, the ruins appeared—half-swallowed by vines and earth, the stone pillars worn but still imposing.
The air around the temple was heavy with power, humming with magic that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The Temple of Shadows
Inside, the darkness was alive.
Chris lit a torch, the flame flickering against towering walls etched with strange symbols. Damian's eyes glowed faintly as he whispered translations under his breath.
The deeper they ventured, the heavier the air became, thick with history and warning.
At the temple's heart, they found it—a stone altar cracked by time, and resting upon it, a brittle scroll sealed with ancient wax.
Damian carefully broke the seal and unrolled the parchment, magic coiling from the script as he began to read aloud:
"Two souls entwined by fate, bound by blood and shadow.
One must fall by the other's hand, lest chaos consume the world."
The words echoed in the chamber, chilling in their finality.
Chris's breath caught.
Damian's voice was a whisper, almost drowned by the silence. "It's the prophecy."
They stood frozen, the weight of destiny pressing down.
Wrestling with Fate
Chris sank to the cold floor, mind racing.
"How do we live with that?" he asked. "Knowing it might come to this?"
Damian knelt beside him, shadow magic swirling like smoke around their hands. "We don't. Not yet. Prophecies are riddles waiting to be broken."
Chris looked up, hope flickering. "So we fight the fate written for us?"
"Together," Damian promised, eyes fierce.
They clasped hands, a silent vow forged in the darkness.
Outside, the world waited—harsh, uncertain, but theirs to claim.