The night sky burned red.
A blood moon hung low above the ruins of an ancient temple, casting an eerie crimson glow over broken stones and long-forgotten altars. The wind carried whispers—soft, haunting, weaving ghostly voices through the cracked pillars. Somewhere, distant bells chimed, as if mourning the fall of gods.
Liana stood at the edge of the cliff, her cloak fluttering wildly around her slender figure. Her breath came fast, chest rising and falling beneath the invisible pull in her chest. She shouldn't be here. Not tonight. Not under that cursed moon.
And yet, she had come.
Dreams had pulled her here. Visions of silver eyes gleaming from darkness, a throne made of shadows, a voice whispering her name from across the void. Each night, the dreams grew stronger, until she could no longer ignore them.
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling the strange thrum beneath her ribs—a pulse not her own.
"Tonight… it begins."
The whisper rang inside her skull, delicate and undeniable.
Suddenly, the earth trembled beneath her boots.
A deep rumble rose from the depths below, growing louder, closer. Cracks spiderwebbed across the rocky ledge, splitting toward her feet like black lightning.
Liana gasped, taking a step back—but too late.
The cliff crumbled.
She fell.
Down, down, into a void so black it devoured sound. The wind roared past her ears, her cloak whipping violently. Her arms flailed, grasping for something—anything—to stop her fall.
There was nothing. Only the fall.
Then—light.
Blinding. Swirling. Silver and gold.
She landed hard on a cold marble floor, pain lancing through her limbs. Strange glowing symbols spiraled beneath her palms, pulsing softly against the white stone.
Gasping, she pushed herself upright. Around her, towering pillars stretched into a sky swirling with stars. The vast hall loomed silent, empty, yet thrumming with unseen power.
The air smelled of old magic, sharp and metallic, mingled with something darker—a weight pressing on her skin like velvet fog.
"Where… am I?" she whispered.
A deep voice answered.
"The throne room."
She turned sharply.
At the far end of the hall sat a figure on a dark throne carved from obsidian. A man cloaked in flowing black, his silver eyes gleaming beneath a crown of twisted horns. Shadows curled around him, alive, shifting like silent serpents at his feet.
He watched her—still, unreadable, as if weighing a fragile thing.
Liana's breath hitched. His presence filled the vast hall, oppressive yet magnetic, like gravity itself.
"Who… who are you?" she managed, her voice barely a thread.
The man rose slowly, each movement precise. The cloak slid from his shoulders like ink spilling into water. "I am the Shadow King."
He descended the steps of his throne, boots echoing against marble. With each step, the glowing symbols beneath her feet flared brighter, pulsing as if alive.
"You should not be here, mortal," he said softly, stopping mere steps away.
"I didn't mean—" she started, but he raised a gloved hand.
"The mark chose you."
Her brow furrowed. "What mark?"
He reached forward, gloved fingers brushing the inside of her wrist.
A warmth surged beneath her skin. Liana gasped as a silver sigil bloomed, glowing faintly against her flesh—a swirling symbol unlike any she'd seen.
"This mark," he murmured, eyes glittering.
She stared down at it, heart pounding. "Why me?"
His lips curved into a faint, almost sorrowful smile. "Because you are mine."
Her breath faltered.
He lifted a dark scepter, resting its crystal tip lightly against her shoulder.
"And with this mark," he continued, voice low, "you are bound to the prophecy. Bound… to me."
Suddenly, the crystal flared with dark light. Shadows erupted from the walls, swirling, whispering ancient words in a tongue she could not understand.
"The realms are breaking," he said, gaze never leaving hers. "And you… are the key."
A tremor rolled through the hall. The pillars cracked. Stars above flickered and dimmed.
"What does that mean?" Liana asked, panic creeping into her voice.
He lowered the scepter. "It begins tonight."
Shadows surged, engulfing them both.
She screamed as the world dissolved into darkness.
And above, the blood moon burned brighter.
But the shadows did not consume her. Instead, they carried her—lifting, cradling, pulling her through corridors of shifting light and darkness. Whispers clawed at her ears, snatches of words she couldn't understand.
Fragments of visions flashed before her eyes: burning cities, crumbling mountains, rivers turned red beneath a dying sky. And always, always, the silver eyes watching from the darkness.
When the shadows set her down again, she stood on a balcony overlooking a vast landscape.
The sky churned with clouds, purple and black. Lightning arced across the heavens. Below lay a sprawling kingdom, half in ruin, half ablaze. Towers crumbled into ash. Rivers boiled. Far beyond, a great wall separated the realm from an endless abyss.
"Behold," the Shadow King's voice said beside her, quiet and heavy. "The realm you were meant to save."
She turned to him, her throat tight. "How can I save this? I'm just… me."
He looked down at her, his gaze unreadable. "Not just you. The mark makes you more."
He raised a hand. A swirling orb of light appeared above his palm, showing an image of three worlds, connected by glowing threads. "Three realms. Heaven. Hell. Mortal. The balance is failing."
"And I'm supposed to fix it?" Liana's voice cracked.
"You were chosen," he said simply. "Not by me. By fate."
She stared at him, heart thudding. "And if I refuse?"
His eyes darkened. "Then all realms fall."
Lightning split the sky. Thunder shook the earth.
The orb flickered, showing a dark figure rising from the abyss. Wings of shadow unfurled. Eyes burning gold.
"What is that?" she whispered.
"The true darkness," the Shadow King said grimly. "The one that even I cannot stop alone."
He turned to face her fully. "But with you… there is a chance."
The mark on her wrist pulsed brighter.
Liana swallowed hard. "And if I fail?"
He reached out, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. "Then we both fall."
A silence stretched between them.
Then, softly: "Do you trust me, Liana?"
She hesitated, then nodded once.
"Good," he murmured. "Then hold on."
He pulled her closer.
And as the shadows swirled around them once more, the blood moon above flared with crimson fire.