Power surged through my veins, an unshackled force that resonated with the very essence of darkness. The coliseum around me, once an arena of trials, now felt like an extension of my will. The shadows no longer whispered—they sang.
I exhaled slowly, adjusting to the newfound strength. My body felt lighter, yet heavier with purpose. Every movement I made left faint traces of darkness in the air, as if I had become a part of the abyss itself.
Lyra studied me, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, satisfied nod, she spoke. "It suits you."
I flexed my fingers, feeling the energy pulsing beneath my skin. "It doesn't feel foreign anymore. It's like... it was always supposed to be this way."
She smirked. "Because it was. You are no longer just a wielder of shadows, Alden Draven. You are the Shadowborn."
The title settled over me like a second skin. I had fought through the trials, faced my own darkness, and emerged stronger. But as the adrenaline began to fade, another realization settled in.
"This is just the beginning, isn't it?" I asked.
Lyra chuckled, stepping closer. "You catch on quickly. The power you've claimed is formidable, but it is far from its peak. You have only awakened it. Mastering it… well, that is a journey of its own."
Her words carried weight. This wasn't the end of my trials—it was the doorway to something even greater. But before I could dwell on it, a low growl rumbled at my side.
I turned to see Shadowfang, my loyal companion, staring at me intently. His fur bristled, eyes glowing faintly with the same dark energy now coursing through me. There was a connection between us stronger than ever before.
"It seems your beast has sensed the change in you," Lyra noted. "He, too, will grow stronger in your presence."
As if to confirm her words, Shadowfang stepped forward, lowering his head slightly. It wasn't submission—it was acknowledgment. A bond reforged in power.
Argonax, my winged companion, let out a piercing cry from above, circling before landing on my shoulder. Even he seemed different—his feathers shimmered with a faint dark sheen, as if they had absorbed the lingering energy of my transformation.
I clenched my fists. The power wasn't just mine—it was flowing into my beasts as well.
This was what it meant to be a true beast tamer.
A sudden tremor in the distance shattered the moment.
The entire coliseum shook.
Lyra's expression turned sharp. "We need to go."
Before I could question her, the shadows around us began to shift violently. The walls trembled, the statues cracked, and the very foundation of the arena groaned under unseen pressure.
A voice—deep, ancient, and echoing with power—rippled through the air.
"The Shadowborn has risen… but can he withstand the storm that follows?"
The words sent a chill down my spine. Lyra's gaze hardened.
"Someone—or something—has taken notice of your awakening," she murmured. "And it doesn't sound friendly."
I swallowed the tension rising in my throat. Of course. It was never going to be easy. Power never came without consequences.
A deep crack split the ground in front of us, and from the abyss below, something began to rise.