Avatar iYoda
The shore of the Never Day resolved itself from swirling darkness, a jagged coastline etched against a sky that knew no dawn. I did not arrive with thunder or fire. One moment, only endless night existed. The next, I stood there—formed from the shadows, yet distinct from them.
The land throbbed. A heartbeat of despair pulsed beneath the soil, resonating through my core. Promising me harvest. Promising me power.
I opened a portal to my Dominion—my first anchor on this continent. Only places I had touched could be bound, and now this one was mine.
Oscar stared at the portal with wide eyes, then back at the throne I had left behind.
"Oscar," I said, my voice carrying the weight of command, "it is I—the Dark Lord. If you wish to join, step through now."
Man… really wanted to say, "Come with me if you want to leave." That would've been epic.
Oscar obeyed, his minion close behind. He looked around, awe etched across his face. His fascination with the Never Day mirrored my own as I truly surveyed it for the first time.
The shoreline stones were black, devouring the starlight and the pale glow of the Nine Moons. Inland, colossal trees loomed—trunks as thick as elephants, spaced apart as if each claimed its own territory. Their crowns blended with the sky, their leaves so dark they disappeared into the night. And silence. Utter silence. No birds, no beasts. Only the cold wind, as if the land itself was holding its breath, watching. Waiting.
"I will lead. You will follow," I murmured.
We walked. My presence cowed the forest itself, its violence muted by my arrival. For anyone else, this would be a death march. For me, it was a hunt. A beacon tugged at my senses, prey drawing me forward.
A few kilometers inland, it rose—a monstrous mound, jagged and sprawling like a termite nest grown beyond nature's scale. A goblin hive. A festering heart of cruelty. My destination.
"Stay here until I call. Nana will protect you," I ordered. No room for discussion. I left before Oscar could answer.
I became shadow. One moment behind a twisted tree, the next a ripple of black gliding between roots and stone. My shapeshifting minions were already at work—phantoms among phantoms, their forms dissolving seamlessly into the night.
Below, battle raged. Goblins shrieked and fought, but an invading army was breaking them, threatening to burn my harvest before I could claim it.
I whispered through the dark. A silent command. Ten of my minions dispersed, weaving through the melee, their forms stretching into invisible barriers. They nudged, redirected, and shaped the clash—subtly bending the chaos into order, into containment.
And then—
I saw him.
Oscar.
The elf had ignored my command. He was sprinting toward the goblin dungeon, not with sword in hand but with hands blazing. Arcane fire spilled from his palms, searing through goblins in waves. One shrieked as a bolt of lightning caged its body, another exploded into ash under a fireball hurled too hastily to be precise.
A sorcerer's wrath—undisciplined, desperate, and loud.
My fury sharpened. Each goblin he incinerated was a harvest wasted, a soul reduced to smoke and embers instead of sent whole into my Dominion. He wasn't just disobeying—he was squandering.
For a moment, the urge to strike him down nearly overwhelmed me. I could unravel his soul before he cast another spell.
But my motto steadied me: Cut your losses. Focus on what you have.
So I reined in the anger, forcing my voice into silence. Oscar would give me his reason—he would owe me that. If it was not sufficient, his life would be mine.
For now, I let him burn his path. Nana shadowed him like a guardian shade, ensuring the fool did not fall before he reached whatever madness drove him.
I turned back to the battlefield. There were still thousands ripe for harvest, and I would not lose sight of the greater prize.
---
Ella
The ground bucked. Dust rained from the tunnel ceiling as a monstrous horn, deep and resonant, ripped through the air. Ella's breath hitched. Not the goblins' war-cry this time. This was different. A tidal wave of destruction was coming—an army's signal, a herald of collapse. Fear pressed down on her chest, squeezing her breath away.
The goblins froze. Their snarls died mid-growl, replaced by a low, uneasy murmur. Then, as if commanded by instinct itself, they bolted—green bodies crashing into each other as they fled into the dark. The horns blared again, deafening, then abruptly ceased, leaving silence so heavy it seemed to swallow the air itself.
The guards flanking Ella stiffened. Their eyes widened with terror before they too vanished into the tunnels, abandoning their posts.
Then came the sound. Thud. Thud. Thud. Rhythmic. Heavy. Deliberate. Ella's heart rattled against her ribs like a frantic bird. From the darkness, a figure emerged.
The torchlight struggled to cling to him. His armor drank the glow, polished steel rimmed in shadow, his hooded helm glowing with twin embers that burned into the very marrow of her bones. He was more than a man—he was presence incarnate, a weight pressing on her very soul.
The captives whimpered around her, but the figure's gaze silenced even sound itself. He gestured once, and from the shadows a monstrous servant emerged—four arms coiled with muscle, its movements disturbingly fluid for such bulk.
"All of you. Search the tunnels. Any prisoners you find, bring to me unharmed. Bind the goblins and gather them in one place."
The four-armed beast bowed. "As you command, Dark Lord." It vanished with others of its kind into the labyrinth.
The silence thickened. Then he stepped closer. His eyes burned into Ella, pinning her where she sat. Tears streaked down her face, helpless.
"What do they call you?" His voice was low, resonant, thrumming like a drumbeat in her bones.
"M-my name is Ella, master," she whispered.
"How long have you been here?"
"I… I no longer recall. A very long time."
He nodded slightly. His questions fell like slow, heavy stones: how were they captured, what cruelties had they endured, what had the goblins done. His presence compelled honesty, their voices trembling out confessions born of both fear and desperate hope.
Then, as his gaze lingered on Ella, something shifted. Not mercy—no, something stranger. His head tilted, and in a sudden, deliberate tone he said:
"Come with me if you want to live."
For a breathless instant Ella froze. The words struck oddly against the horror of the moment, almost… absurd. Yet the fire in his eyes made them real. Behind the mask, iYoda's inner voice squealed in triumph. Finally! I got to say it!
The moment shattered.
"Althea!"
The cry tore through the dungeon, wild and desperate. Oscar appeared at the far passage, his staff ablaze with arcane light. He pushed past shadows, his eyes scanning the captives until they locked on one face.
"Althea!" He dropped to his knees, clutching the thin, pale elf-girl in his arms.
Ella's mouth fell open, stunned by the sudden reunion.
Oscar turned then, shame and relief warring in his expression. He bowed low before iYoda. "My Lord… forgive me. I disobeyed you. Eight moons ago, the goblins raided our town in the northern Elven Realm. They took her—my sister. I could not stand idle, not knowing she might be here among them. I had to find her."
The shadows rippled faintly around iYoda. His ember eyes narrowed. Fury kindled—Oscar had slain what should have been harvested, had broken his command. But his rule held firm: cut your losses, focus on what you have. Althea's survival explained his defiance. That, at least, earned him reprieve.
"Your disobedience has cost me," iYoda said, his voice a cold whisper that slid like a blade across stone. "But… it has also borne fruit. Do not test me again, sorcerer. For now, keep her safe."
Oscar bowed his head lower, clutching his sister tightly.
And iYoda, still inwardly savoring his perfectly delivered movie line, turned his gaze back to Ella. The harvest was not yet done.
---
Avatar iYoda
A roaring tide of fury consumed me. Images seared across my mind—slaves beaten into silence, their wide, terrified eyes, their broken voices recounting torment, the stench of cruelty that bled from every goblin act. Rage, sharp and blinding, rose within me like a white-hot inferno threatening to devour all restraint. Animals, I thought, the word bitter as ash. Predators who thrived on pain. They didn't deserve to live. Not after what they had done.
My form rippled, dissolving into shadow as I moved. A tunnel opened into a cavern vast and yawning, its walls sweating dampness, its air heavy with fear. A faint, flickering glow pulsed where my minions lingered—shapeshifters, half-formed phantoms twisting between faces and horrors. And there, at the center, the goblins huddled together: a quivering heap of green flesh, jagged teeth flashing as they whimpered, their bravado stripped to nothing.
"Now you tremble?" My voice broke the cavern, a boom that rolled like thunder through stone. Dark energy crackled with the words, and the goblins shrank further, their whimpers swelling into a pitiful chorus.
I raised my hand. The shadows obeyed. Darkness spilled outward, not as an absence of light but as a living tide, thick and absolute. My dominion surged, wrapping each goblin in unseen coils. Their cries rose, then faltered, as the spell took hold—not destroying them, not yet, but dragging them down into my Dominion. There, they would await judgment. Punishment or pardon, torment or release—that choice was mine alone to render.
Silence fell heavy in the cavern. Only the rasp of my own breath remained.
Eighty thousand. That was the number. Rough, but certain enough. Eighty thousand goblins seized in this single sweep, now bound in my Dominion like cattle in a pen. A staggering harvest. A triumph beyond anything I had yet achieved.
And yet, not enough.
The requirement etched into my mind like a curse: one hundred thousand souls. That was the threshold. The gate that must be paid in full. Only then could I summon her—my Princess—into this world.
I clenched my fist, shadows shuddering in answer. So close. So maddeningly close. The triumph tasted of ash when paired with the bitter truth.
But this was not the end. No, this was only the first stroke of a far grander design. The Never Day was vast, its darkness teeming with prey. Twenty thousand more. I would take them. All of them. Until the number was complete, until the gate opened, until she walked beside me.
The harvest had begun, and nothing in this realm of night would deny me.