Baylan felt the familiar jolt of displacement as he was thrown into the unknown. The world twisted around him, a violent kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that morphed into murky uncertainty. Fingers of shadow wrapped around his torso, pulling him deeper into what seemed like the void. He could hear the whispers, snatches of sorrow and longing echoing in the twist of colored, and with his last coherent thought, he braced for the impact.
Thud.
The ground emerged beneath him, unmoving, yet brimming with a disquieting vibrancy that made the hairs on his neck rise. He blinked against the fading disorientation, and the reality of his surroundings materialized—a clearing, encased by towering trees, each gnarled trunk cloaked in a thick tangle of shadow. A largely inactive teleportation circle lay at his feet, etched into the earth with ancient runes, a remnant of lost times.
"You're finally here," came a voice, melodic yet inherently shrouded in gravity. Anu stepped into view, ethereal and fluid, sunlight dancing off her translucent figure. She was the primordial, the guide amidst the chaos and uncertainty of the dungeon—her presence both calming and foreboding.
"Anu?," Baylan breathed, his eyes searching the depths of her gaze. "Where—where are we? What happened to my team?"
"In the Obsidian Dungeon, the third floor," she replied, her voice weaving through the air like wisps of smoke. "And your team…" she paused, a darkness flickering across her features, "…they have been scattered. Trials await—trials that will test your mastery of shadow magic, and your ability to protect those you hold dear."
Shadow magic. Baylan could feel its seductive pull—a whisper of power that threaded through the atmosphere, slithering into his mind. He was a novice in this realm—a fledgling yearning to soar, yet the weight of responsibility bore down on him like an anvil.
"You will face the shadows," Anu continued, her gaze unwavering. "But remember: shadows cannot exist without light. The choice, Baylan, to save or to succumb, lies in your hands."
With that enigmatic proclamation, her form dissipated into the air, leaving him alone amid the shadows that swirled around him, curling and coaxing his senses awake.
Where do I begin? His thoughts spiraled, but instinct pulled him towards the deeper sections of the dungeon, where the echo of distant cries thrummed in his core, a gnawing urgency that prompted him forward.
Baylan traversed the labyrinthine corridors, feeling the pull of shadow magic intensify with every step. The walls pulsed with a heartbeat, shadows dancing like fire on stone, guiding him deeper until he rounded a corner and stumbled upon the first trial.
Screams. His heart clenched—a familiar voice. "Son of Sköll! Help us!"
Could his eyes be deceiving him, before him lay the archer riddled by goblins, Silas to the side ensnared by ghastly creatures drawing his last breaths, shadows shaped into nightmarish forms, eyes glowing with hunger and malice. Without hesitation, he launched himself into the fray, grasping for the flickering tendrils of shadow that whispered promises of power. Only to be met with illusions.
"Stay close!" The first blade shouted, rallying his wits about him with a force that surged from the very depths of his being. He reached for them, shadows coiling around his limbs, and he felt his magic respond—a dark energy surging forth like a tempest, wrapping around the creatures, sending them reeling.
But the shadows were treacherous, and for every member of his team he saved, one was lost to the darkness becoming one with the shadows—devoured by malevolence. He watched, suspended in a haze of panic, as the last one left to save, Elyse was swallowed whole, her screams drowning beneath the abyss.
"No! No! Elyse!" His voice shattered against the screeching winds, but the shadows had taken her, and his heart splintered with the weight of loss.
In the aftermath, a hollow silence enveloped him, and Baylan fell to his knees, gripped by despair. Anu's words echoed mockingly in his mind—shadows cannot exist without light.
He pushed himself upright, rage igniting within his core. Not again. This cannot be the end. Bracing himself against the anguish, he channeled the Aura within into a radiant surge of power.
The shadows writhed beneath his command, bending to his will as he struck back at the creatures. Each pulse of his magic felt primal, raw—an affirmation of his intent.
One by one, he scored victories against the nightmares of the dungeon, the shadows now dancing for him, not against him. He forged ahead, always driven by the haunting memory of Elyse—her laughter a distant echo that ignited his resolve.
Yet, the trials continued—each more brutal than the last.
In the wake of one confrontation, he found himself alone in a dimly lit chamber, the weight of grief heavier than any physical burden. With every success, another soul was lost. Rion fell next, then Kaelen, crushed by a collapsing archway, his vision fading into darkness as he shouted encouragement to Baylan "be strong brethren!" …until his final breath echoed in despair.
Guilt twisted like a dagger in Baylan's heart as he thought if only I had better control. How many would he lose before he mastered this insatiable power? Would he be the architect of their doom, or their savior?
A vibrant glow caught his attention—it pulsed like a heartbeat, illuminating the chamber with warmth. He approached cautiously, and in its heart, a relic—a crystal pulsating with the essence of light. The stark contrast to the shadows in which he dwelled evoked a certain clarity.
Could this be the key? Would embracing light provide the strength needed to save those he still held dear? He reached for the crystal, an electric current igniting at his fingertips as it merged with his essence. In that moment, he understood: to wield shadow magic was to balance the light and dark, to transform the chaotic energy of loss into a potent force for protection.
With renewed determination coursing through his veins, he prepared for the ensuing trials. The shadows had taken so much—but he would not let them claim anyone else. Even in the face of darkness, there was the flickering light of hope, and he would harness it.
The dungeon breathed around him, a chaotic whisper of curses and hope, and Baylan, now grasping the true depths of his shadow magic, stepped forward with a blazing heart, ready to reclaim what he had lost and face the shadows of the dungeon head-on.