Far beyond Planetos, beyond its sun, moon, innumerable stars, and beyond dreams that any mortal could hope for, something moved through it. Shadow with absence of light, a thing shaped by utter darkness, travelled fast as a falling star, yet soundless as dead. It travelled between the stars moving to its masters home located in the void, a place where everything cease to exist.
Its master's home appeared, a mass of black for no light ever reached this place, and it parted open for it to enter. A shape emerged as it walked ahead, a thing of immense size, darkness drifting around its body, older than most. When the shadow crossed the threshold, everything vanished, only a throne remained. And the being seated upon it, Lord Belegurth.
The Shadow knelt the moment it crossed the threshold.
The great figure had been a statue in absolute stillness, lost in memories and plans. But at his servant's arrival, he turns. It did not felt like movement of flesh, but of mountains shifting which made the surrounding quiver—a raw muscle spasm in the fabric of existence. His voice followed few moments later, cold as any and echoing in the emptiness of his hall, "Is it done?"
The Shadow, loyal to its maker, bowed low until its head touched the ground. "I have secured the vessel, Great Lord."
It hesitated moments later, flicker of doubt, questions and uncertainty gnawing in its non-existent heart, "But… why him, Great Maker?" Its words were almost a silent rasp, afraid of angering the being, "Why choose a weak human boy, one with no gold, no strength, no army, when your presence alone could have twisted minds of kings, enslaved heroes, and snared mighty spirits into obedience?"
For the first time since the Shadow's arrival, the Lord moved, Lord Belegurth rises from his jagged throne. His height towering as if carved from the tallest of the mountain itself, strong as any storm standing at its full strength. The Void itself began to shake with his movement, the darkness bending around him, reshaping like a living thing cowering before its master's inescapable will.
"I was once the strongest of the Valar." He started, his voice shaking everything, his words carrying no boast only a memories so bitter and old that it had turned into an absolute murderous certainty. "My brethren turned against me because I wished to weave creations of my own in Arda. I desired a music of my making to join the Ainur. Eru refused me what was rightfully mine."
His gaze then drifts to the black horizon outside in cold resentment, and continues "And when I acted according to my just will, they cast me out. Banished me into the Void, a timeless prison, a cold, unending exile outside their flawed creation."
The Shadow remained utterly still, sensing the immense, coiled hatred that defined its master's being. "For uncounted years I wandered in that darkness," Belegurth continues. "Until I found this world. A world of magic, place ripe for my hand, not unlike the one I once tried shaping but protected by a being no less arrogant and powerful than Eru himself, a pale maiden-made-of-light."
The void ripples sensing anger of prisoner it had long kept chained. "So I waited again for generations. With turning of ages, trying to find a flaw and a way to claim this world." His tone hardens, eyes turning to polished obsidian. "But the petty gods of this realm felt my presence and fearing that I would bend their creations to my will, they took one of their own prophetic, unwilling child and cursed him, to stand as an anchor. To dam the flow of the world's true magic which would hold me at bay."
A low murmur escapes the kneeling shadow, "An anchor they themselves broke."
Belegurth smiles, a slow yet terrible thing to see, for the smile held no warmth, only the grim finality of coming of a long-planned execution. "Indeed. The gods wished the boy hidden, forgotten in time. A lost warden against the coming change. But their followers are creatures of small understanding. They twisted their makers will, acting in ways even the gods had not foreseen, they hunted him."
The Shadow nods, but still asks, "Then why give him the bloodline of Ar-Pharazôn, Lord Belegurth? The great king who coveted immortality and defied the powers of the Gods?"
For the first time, a genuine and predatory delight touches the great being's features. "Because of his memories. They are vital for me know." A deep, satisfying rumble followed. "He know of me in some way shadow but I cannot read him for peety Gods stand in our path. And to claim those memories, to rule this world, I must possess the shell that holds them."
The Void pulses, a tremor passing through the emptiness, as an ancient threat stirs. "But for that to happen, he must break." Belegurth's voice softens into almost tender voice. "He must look upon the world for it really is, a chaotic place, ruled by men and gods who their selfish needs over a society of order, which needs cleaning. Only then will the vessel be truly ready for its true inhabitant."
He turns away to look outside, his cloak of darkness swaying in motion. "And do not take lightly the blood of Ar-Pharazôn," he warns. "The boy will grow strong and proud. Proud enough to challenge gods themselves, if given the proper reasons. His moral codes would have been useless to him in the slave pens... but with might, he will carve his own bloody path. One that makes my taking of his body… effortless."
The Shadow bows again, feeling itself tremble under the warning words. "Then why test him?" it risked. "Why not grant him all your power at once, and let him unleash your wrath upon the world?"
Belegurth turns to look directly at his servant. "My servant Sauron once forged rings, gifts which granted power beyond a mortal's comprehension." His voice low and soft in bitter memory. "I am forging greater ones. Rings of might unmatched by anything that crawled out of the ages before. But they are not for children."
The darkness around them begins to swirl, coming together showing gateway to a burning forge at the end of it. "To wield such power, he must suffer. He must be cut, broken, and reforged in the fires of hate. Only then will the rings answer to him and no other."
He lifts his gaze to the distant speck of Planetos, hanging far across the endless black, waiting for him to harvest.
"This boy is only the first lesson." His whisper rolls out like a cold iron-clad prophecy. "I will bend this world and many others to my will."
The Void shifts around him, tightening its coil fearing his escape while the Shadow prays. And somewhere far away, on a small blue world that did not yet understand its fate, a boy name Aratar takes his first steps unknowingly accepting the darkness of a cursed blood.