The Forsaken
A name whispered in fear, a curse upon those who never chose their fate. Unlike Sorcerers, who are awakened by divine will, the Forsaken are claimed—marked by something far beyond human understanding. These beings are not blessed but corrupted, their power forcibly implanted by entities of shadow and madness.
Long ago, these ancient shadow entities roamed the earth, their influence warping reality itself. They were gods of destruction, feared even by the strongest sorcerers. After a long and brutal war, humanity's greatest champions sealed them away using powerful chants, binding them beyond the reach of this world. But their hatred did not fade. Trapped and powerless, they sought new ways to break free.
They created The Forsaken.
By choosing those they deemed worthy, they planted a dark seed inside them—a power that did not awaken through divine will but instead ripped the darkness from within their souls and made it their strength. Some Forsaken were conquerors, others mere pawns in a greater plan. But all carried the same fate: they were weapons of the darkness, tools meant to shatter the seals and bring their creators back into the world.
And now, after so many years, The Arcane Council fears that another Forsaken has appeared.
Arcane Council Court – The Verdict Begins
The grand chamber of the Arcane Council was a cathedral of power, its high marble walls carved with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly with restrained magic. A vast circular table stood at the center, where twelve robed figures sat in absolute silence. At the head, positioned higher than the rest, was Alden Grave—the Council's Supreme Magus. His gaze was sharp, his presence suffocating.
To his left sat Lord Varies, an elder with deep wrinkles that held the weight of centuries, his cane resting at his side. Other members flanked them, each representing different factions of the magical world. They were the twelve who decided the fate of sorcery itself.
A heavy silence loomed as the Council prepared to deliver its verdict.
Alden Grave finally spoke, his voice calm yet commanding.
"The matter before us is unprecedented. A young boy, Elias Carter, has shown signs of an unknown awakening. But the circumstances of his power..." He let the words hang, eyes scanning the room. "...are deeply troubling."
a murmur spreads across the council, whispers weaving through air like threads of uncertainty.
then a women among them, lady Selene, leaned forward, her voice cutting through the hushed conversation.
"isn't the name carter familiar to is?" she asked ,her sharp gaze narrowing. "Elias Carter- does he have any relation to....." She hesitated ,than uttered the names , Late "Lucius Carter and Evelyn Carter?"
Another council member nodded gravely.
"indeed , he is their son."
Lady Selene exhaled, almost in disbelief. "isn't it a bit of irony..."
the room felt in another murmur than.
One of the councilors, a stern woman in silver robes, spoke up. "We have reviewed the reports. The darkness reacted to him, not as an enemy, but as an extension of itself."
A murmuring ripple spread through the chamber. Another councilor, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, leaned forward. "We all know what this could mean. We have seen it before."
Lord Varies, who had been silent, finally exhaled. "A Forsaken."
The word sent an unspoken chill through the air.
A younger councilor, appearing barely in his thirties, shook his head. "That cannot be our conclusion so soon. The boy has shown no signs of corruption."
Another responded, her voice edged with skepticism. "Yet."
Alden tapped his fingers against the table, considering their words. "The Forsaken are claimed, not awakened. If this boy is indeed touched by something beyond our understanding, then his very existence is a threat. The last time a Forsaken emerged..."
A pause. A knowing glance between the oldest members.
"...an entire country was wiped from the map within hours."
The chamber fell into deep silence, as if the ghosts of history themselves had joined their gathering.
Lord Varies cleared his throat. "This boy is not the same. The Forsaken of the past was a man filled with hatred, an experiment gone wrong. But this one is just a boy. He is... different."
"And that is what makes him dangerous." Alden's voice was firm. "He does not yet know what he is. But what happens when he does? When his power seeks its true form?"
A moment of heavy contemplation passed. Then, finally, Alden sat back and folded his hands.
"We will not destroy him." The statement alone made some councilors tense.
"We will use him."
"Until we no longer need him."
A final decision had been made.
The verdict was passed.
The great hall of the Arcane Council was still shrouded in an air of tension, the twelve high members seated in their elevated positions, with Alden Graves presiding at the center. Lord Varys and the others sat in silence as the doors opened once more.
A man in a dark coat entered with Elias Carter—Dorian Aldritch, the investigator.
Alden Graves cleared his throat. "Elias Carter, your situation is... unprecedented. You have awakened, but not in the way anyone would have wanted." His piercing gaze bore into Elias before he continued. "From this moment on, you will be supervised and trained. Investigator Dorian Aldritch will oversee your progress and ensure your abilities are under control."
Elias remained silent, but in his mind, he couldn't help but think sarcastically, I'll use them when I actually know that I have them.
Graves continued, "You are not to speak of your abilities to anyone outside of this chamber. You will only use them when instructed. Do you understand?"
Elias gave a slow nod, masking the storm of emotions within. Meanwhile, Dorian stepped forward, his voice even but firm. "I'll make sure he doesn't get himself killed." There was a faint smirk in his tone, but his expression remained serious. "Elias, follow me. We have much to discuss."
With that, the session concluded, and Elias found himself walking alongside Dorian, stepping out of the suffocating presence of the council and into the unknown path that awaited him.
Dorian crossed his arms, watching Elias with a calculating gaze. "So, tell me, Elias. What do you know about your power? How much can you perform?"
Elias blinked. "Nothing."
Dorian arched an eyebrow. "Nothing?"
"Yeah. Zero. Nada. I don't even know if I have powers." Elias sighed. "I mean, the council says I do, but I haven't exactly shot fire from my hands or lifted a mountain yet."
Dorian let out a tired sigh. "Right. Then let's start with the basics. Follow me."
He led Elias to a secluded training ground, an old chamber beneath the council's main building. The walls were covered in ancient sigils, and the air crackled with dormant energy.
"Stand there," Dorian instructed, pointing to the center of the room. "Now, close your eyes and concentrate. Feel the energy inside you. Pull it out."
Elias sighed but obeyed, closing his eyes. He focused, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Nothing.
Dorian tapped his foot impatiently. "You're not even trying."
"I am trying," Elias shot back. "But nothing's happening!"
"Try harder," Dorian ordered.
Elias gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He imagined fire, energy, anything erupting from him. A spark flickered at his fingertips. His eyes widened.
Then—
A tiny flame, barely enough to light a candle, appeared in his palm. It wavered, pitifully small, before fizzling out.
Silence.
Elias looked at his hand, then at Dorian. "Uh... impressive, right?"
Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. "You couldn't even hurt a fly with that."
"Yeah, well," Elias muttered. "Baby steps?"
Dorian sighed, rubbing his temples. "That's enough for today. You can go home, meet your friends, and get some rest. We'll try again tomorrow."
Elias stretched his arms. "Finally! Thought you'd keep me here all night."
Dorian shot him a sharp look. "If you don't improve, I might just do that."
Elias chuckled nervously. "Noted."
As he turned to leave, Dorian called out, "And remember—this stays between us. No showing off, no unnecessary usage. Understood?"
Elias gave a lazy salute. "Yeah, yeah. No fun allowed. Got it."
As Elias turned to leave, Dorian's voice stopped him.
"One more thing," Dorian said, his expression serious. "Always be alert. The power you have now... it attracts dark entities. They must already know about you, and sooner or later, they'll come. They'll try to extract that power from you—by any means necessary."
Elias blinked, then smirked. "Great. So not only do I have a power I can't even use properly, but now I'm also a walking beacon for evil? Love that for me."
Dorian sighed. "I'm being serious, Elias."
Elias gave a mock salute. "Noted. I'll be sure to stay alive long enough to actually awaken."
With that, he turned and left.
As Elias reached home in the evening, the exhaustion from the day weighed heavily on him. Just as he was about to collapse onto his bed, a sudden knock at the door made him pause.
With a sigh, he walked over and opened it. Standing there, hands in his pockets and a raised eyebrow, was Dante.
"You gonna keep me standing out here, or you gonna let me in?" Dante smirked.
Elias stepped aside. "Come in."
Dante walked in, glancing around before settling onto the couch. "Alright, spill it. What happened? Why did the council take you?"
Elias hesitated. The weight of the past day—his supposed "awakening," the Arcane Council's scrutiny, the training with Dorian—felt unreal. He wasn't even sure he believed it himself. But Dante was the only person he truly had, and keeping secrets from him felt pointless.
Taking a deep breath, he sat down. "It's... complicated."
Dante leaned forward. "Then make it simple."
Elias sighed. "They think I've awakened, but not in a way anyone wanted. Apparently, I have some kind of power, but I don't know how to use it. I tried training today and barely managed a flicker of fire magic."
Dante whistled. "So, you're saying you're a big deal now."
Elias rolled his eyes. "More like a big joke."
Dante studied him for a moment before nodding.
"And you—don't spill any beans."
Dante grinned. "Come on, man. When have I ever spilled anything?"
Elias gave him a deadpan look.
Dante chuckled. "Okay, fine. Maybe a few times. But not this. I promise."
A comfortable silence settled between them before Dante stood up and stretched. "Alright, enough of this depressing talk. Let's go for a walk. It'll clear your mind."
Elias hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah... maybe you're right."
The two of them stepped outside into the cool night air,
As Elias and Dante walked through the quiet streets, the cool night air did little to ease Elias' restless thoughts. Dante, sensing his mood, nudged him.
"So, what's the plan, oh great awakened one? Gonna burn down the school with your tiny fire trick?"
Elias scoffed. "Yeah, if the fire even lasts long enough to light a candle."
Dante chuckled. "Hey, at least you got something. I'm still just a regular guy."
Elias glanced at him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
They continued walking, their casual banter filling the silence of the deserted street. Streetlights flickered dimly above them, casting long shadows as the night deepened.
Then, suddenly, the air changed.
The temperature dropped sharply, and an unnatural heaviness pressed down on them. A deep, suffocating weight settled in their chests, like the very fabric of reality had shifted.
Dante stopped mid-step. "Do you feel that?"
Elias' breath hitched as a low, guttural hum reverberated through the air. The ground beneath them cracked slightly. Then, without warning—
SHRRRRRK!
A jagged tear split open the space before them, dark energy crackling along its edges. A portal, swirling with shadows and pulsating with an eerie glow, widened before their eyes.
And then it stepped out.
A towering skeletal figure, easily over ten feet tall, emerged. Its bones were blackened and worn, held together by sinewy strands of dark energy. Its hollow eye sockets glowed with a sickly green fire, and in its bony grip, it held a massive, rusted cleaver that dripped with some unearthly substance.
A low, bone-chilling groan rumbled from its hollow chest as it turned its gaze toward them.
Dante took an instinctive step back. "Nope. Nope. I don't like that."
Elias' stomach twisted. He had never felt anything like this before—like the very essence of death was staring him down.
The skeleton creature let out a hollow roar that sent a shockwave through the air, cracks splintering the pavement beneath it.
Then it took a step forward.
Elias clenched his fists. What the hell do we do now?
Darkness swirling within, and from its depths, an enormous skeletal figure emerged. Its body was wrapped in tattered, ancient cloth, runes glowing faintly across its cracked bones. Hollow eye sockets burned with an eerie green fire as it fixed its gaze on Elias.
With a slow, deliberate motion, the monster lifted one bony hand and pointed directly at him.
Then it moved.
The ground quaked beneath its weight as it lunged forward, raising a massive fist. Elias barely had time to react before the blow struck him like a sledgehammer. Pain exploded in his ribs as he was flung backward, skidding across the pavement. His vision blurred, his ears ringing.
"Elias!"
Dante was already moving, stepping between his fallen friend and the towering monster. Without hesitation, he clenched his fists, standing his ground.
"Come on, you ugly bastard!" he growled.
The skeleton responded with terrifying speed. Its arm lashed out like a battering ram, hitting Dante square in the chest. A sickening crack echoed through the air as he was launched like a ragdoll, slamming into a streetlight. He crumpled to the ground, coughing violently, blood speckling his lips.
The creature wasted no time. It loomed over Dante, raising a skeletal foot to stomp him into the pavement.
Elias watched, frozen. He wanted to move. He needed to move. But his body refused to listen. A deep, crushing helplessness wrapped around him like iron chains.
Move!
His fists clenched, his teeth grit—
A blazing fireball roared through the air.
The explosion knocked the skeleton off balance, flames licking at its bones. A figure slid across the pavement, coming to a stop between Dante and the monster.
It was Logan.
He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as embers danced around his fingertips. A cocky smirk pulled at his lips.
"No one lays a hand on these idiots except me," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "And you? You don't have that privilege."
The skeleton screeched—a sound that curdled blood—before charging at Logan with unnatural speed.
The fight began.
Logan ducked as a bony fist cut through the air where his head had been a second ago. With a swift motion, he conjured a whip of fire, lashing it across the creature's ribs. Bone splintered, cracks forming under the searing heat. But the monster was unfazed. It retaliated, claws raking forward. Logan barely managed to twist away, but not fast enough—
A deep gash tore across his side. Blood spattered onto the ground.
"Shit—" Logan hissed, stumbling back.
The skeleton capitalized, slamming its knee into his stomach. Logan choked, his vision flashing white as he was thrown across the street. He rolled, struggling to push himself up, coughing blood.
The monster didn't stop. It turned back toward Dante, still lying motionless.
Elias's breath hitched.
Something snapped inside him.
A voice, deep and echoing, whispered in his mind.
Unleash it.
His pupils dilated. His irises darkened, bleeding into pure black voids. The air around him grew cold, shadows twisting unnaturally at his feet. His body moved without thought, driven by an instinct older than time itself.
One second, he was standing still.
The next—
A blur of motion.
In a single blink, Elias reappeared in front of the skeleton. His hand gripped something—a blade of obsidian, its edges wreathed in violet energy. Before the monster could react, Elias swung.
A shockwave tore through the street.
The skeleton's entire torso was bisected in a single strike. Its upper half hit the pavement with a deafening crash, the runes on its bones flickering before dying out completely. The lower half collapsed right after, disintegrating into dust.
Silence.
Logan and Dante stared, wide-eyed.
Elias stood there, panting, his blade still humming with unnatural energy. His hands trembled, his breath ragged.
Dante was the first to speak.
"...Well, holy shit," he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth. He let out a breathless chuckle. "Okay, new rule: remind me to never piss you off."
Logan was still shocked by thinking what just happened.
Elias turned toward him, his eyes still dark. But as quickly as it had come, the energy in him faded. The blade vanished into black smoke. His vision blurred.
Then, everything went black.
END OF CHAPTER 3.
NEXT - CHAPTER 4 : THE ECLIPSE ORDER.