The Black Sun had risen, and the world had begun to break.
The Exiled Knight
Elias Varkas rode hard through the barren hills, his horse kicking up dust beneath the unnatural twilight. The encounter in the village still clung to him, a shadow pressing against his thoughts. That creature—whatever it had been—was no ordinary specter. It had spoken of things buried, things awakening.
He had no destination, only the instinct to move. The Empire had cast him out, branded him a traitor, and stripped him of his honor. But whatever was happening now, whatever the Black Sun had unleashed, it was bigger than exile. Bigger than vengeance.
As he reached the ridge, his horse snorted and came to a halt. Below lay a ruined fortress, half-swallowed by the earth. Broken towers jutted toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
Elias narrowed his eyes. He knew this place.
The Hollow Keep.
Once a stronghold of the Empire, it had been abandoned decades ago, its halls left to ghosts and scavengers. But now, torches flickered within the crumbling walls. Someone was here.
Elias dismounted, drawing his sword. If the Black Sun had drawn him here, he would find out why.
---
The Mage's Descent
Lirien Caelthar stood in the underground vault beneath Valdris, her hands pressed against the ancient stone altar. The runes carved into it glowed with a dull, sickly light. They had not been touched in centuries—until now.
Master Orwyn stood beside her, his expression grim. "This is older than the Empire itself."
Lirien swallowed. "It's waking up."
She could feel the pulse beneath her fingertips, a slow, rhythmic beat like a slumbering heartbeat. Magic—deep, raw, unfiltered—hummed through the stone. But it was wrong. Twisted.
"The Veil is thinning," Orwyn muttered. "There is something on the other side, waiting."
Lirien closed her eyes. She had spent her life mastering magic, bending it to her will. But this… this was something else.
"If we don't stop this," she whispered, "what's on the other side won't stay there for long."
Orwyn turned to her. "Then we must find the one who can."
Lirien frowned. "Who?"
The old mage's gaze was distant. "A knight who should have died long ago."
---
The Prince's Bargain
Prince Kaelen stood over his father's bed, watching as the once-mighty Emperor struggled for breath. The Black Sun's light cast long shadows across the chamber.
"You must make a choice," the Emperor rasped.
Kaelen clenched his fists. "The priests want war. The nobles want power. The people want hope."
His father coughed, a thin trickle of blood staining his lips. "Hope is a lie."
Kaelen felt the weight of the crown pressing down on him, though it had not yet touched his head. "Then what do I do?"
The Emperor's fading eyes locked onto his. "You do what must be done."
A knock at the door. A guard entered, bowing low. "Your Highness, the High Priest requests an audience."
Kaelen turned back to his father, but the old man's breath had gone still. The Emperor of the Veynor Empire was dead.
And Kaelen was alone.
He exhaled, steadying himself. Then he turned toward the door.
"Send him in."
Threads of Fate
The Black Sun had begun to whisper. Not in words, but in the shifting of shadows, the unraveling of old magics, and the tightening grip of fate around those who would shape the world to come.
The Hollow Keep
Elias moved through the ruined corridors, his footsteps silent against the cold stone. The fortress smelled of dust and decay, yet the torches burning in the main hall told him someone had been here recently.
He gripped his sword tighter.
The empire had abandoned this place after the last war, leaving it to rot. And yet, someone had returned.
As he stepped deeper inside, voices echoed through the corridors. Low, murmured chants in a language he did not recognize.
Elias followed the sound, slipping through the shadows. When he reached the main hall, he froze.
A group of figures stood gathered around an ancient stone dais. Their robes were black, their faces hidden beneath hoods. And in the center of the dais lay something unnatural—an obsidian shard, pulsing with dark energy.
One of the figures raised a hand. The chanting stopped.
Elias stepped forward, sword drawn. "Who are you?"
The figure turned slowly. When he spoke, his voice was hollow, inhuman.
"You have come too soon, knight. But the Black Sun welcomes you nonetheless."
Then the torches died, and the darkness moved.
---
The Mage's Journey
Lirien pulled her hood tighter around her face as she navigated the streets of Valdris. The city was breaking apart—fires burned in the slums, the nobles had locked their gates, and the people whispered of omens and curses.
Master Orwyn walked beside her, his staff clicking against the stone. "The Hollow Keep lies beyond the Bloodwood," he murmured. "If the texts are correct, what sleeps there will soon wake."
Lirien frowned. "And you think this knight will be there?"
"The Black Sun pulls the pieces together," Orwyn said. "You must trust that."
Lirien sighed. She didn't trust fate. But she trusted her instincts—and her instincts told her that whatever was happening in the world, she needed to be there when it reached its breaking point.
As they reached the city gates, a group of soldiers blocked their path.
"By order of Prince Kaelen," the captain said, "all mages must submit to examination."
Lirien's fingers twitched. Magic swirled beneath her skin, restless and unpredictable.
Orwyn glanced at her. "Not here," he murmured. "Not yet."
Lirien exhaled slowly, then lowered her hood. "Fine," she said. "Take us to him."
---
The Prince's Choice
Kaelen stood before the High Priest, his father's corpse still warm on the throne behind him.
"The Empire is weak," the priest said. "But it does not have to die. The Black Sun is a test, and only those who embrace it will survive."
Kaelen met his gaze. "And you would have me embrace it?"
The priest smiled. "Not embrace. Control."
Kaelen clenched his fists. His father had ruled with iron and blood, but he had always believed in order. What the priest offered was not order—it was something older. Something darker.
"I will do what is necessary," Kaelen said carefully. "But the Empire will not kneel to shadows."
The priest's smile did not fade. "We shall see, Your Majesty."
A guard entered then, bowing. "We have captured two mages at the city gates. One of them is Orwyn."
Kaelen's breath caught. Orwyn. His father's old advisor.
And if he had returned now, then the Black Sun's game was already in motion.
Kaelen straightened. "Bring them to me."
---
Convergence
The Hollow Keep.
The Bloodwood.
The Imperial Throne.
Fate was pulling the pieces together, binding their paths beneath the shadow of the Black Sun.
And soon, they would stand at the edge of the world, where history would be rewritten in fire and blood.