> In a world painted with joy and light, despair always lurks in the shadows. From that despair, kings of evil are born. Arkin walks a tragic road where no hand reaches for him—only darkness accepts him. As he surrenders to rage and despair, will he rise as a lord of evil, or be consumed by the abyss within?
Author:"ITS ME ARKIN"
Gener : dark fantasy
Hey its ur boy arkin the dark fantasy lover
I write for fun hope you enjoy this journey its my own novel if you feel its copy be sure to tell me about it
---
---
Chapter 4: Erin and Arkin — Shadows of Despair
The morning sun rose over the gleaming city of Elandor, painting the towers in gold. Yet, for Erin, no light could touch the shadows in his mind.
He woke with a jolt — heart pounding, breath uneven, his body drenched in sweat.
That nightmare again. The village. The screams. The scent of smoke.
Every time he closed his eyes, the same image clawed its way back: the ruins of Nopheria and the overwhelming sense that something there was calling to him.
He sat up, clutching his chest. Why can't I forget? What is this feeling?
The fear, the curiosity — both were eating him alive.
Determined to find answers, Erin got dressed and headed for the academy. His face looked pale, his eyes hollow but resolute. His friends noticed immediately.
"Erin, are you okay?" one of them asked.
He forced a small smile. "I just… need to go back. To where it all began."
His companions exchanged uncertain glances but followed his lead. They knew Erin — once he decided something, nothing could stop him.
Before leaving, they visited the blacksmith, the sound of hammer and steel echoing like distant thunder. Fresh armor, sharpened swords, and weary hearts — that's all they carried.
Days passed in tense preparation. Erin grew quieter each day, his thoughts circling the same memory like a curse. The others tried to lighten the mood, but the shadow over him was unshakable.
Finally, the morning came when there was no more waiting.
"Today," Erin said simply, "we return to Nopheria."
They set out at dawn. The road stretched endlessly before them — silent, empty, and cold.
By the time they reached the forgotten village, the once vibrant streets had become graveyards of memory. Houses lay in ashes. The wind carried the faint scent of decay.
They made camp on the outskirts, hoping for rest, but sleep came to none. Erin sat awake, staring into the woods. Something about that darkness called to him, whispering through the trees.
When the sun rose again, they ventured into the forest. Every step felt heavier. The air was thick and damp, and the silence pressed against their chests like a weight.
Then — the rustle of leaves.
Erin raised his hand. "Wait."
The others froze, weapons drawn.
Something moved between the trees — fast, low, and hungry. Then it appeared: a massive wolf, larger than any they had seen, its fur dark as ash and eyes burning with hatred.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then it growled — deep, guttural, primal.
Erin gripped his sword. "Don't falter! We've faced worse!"
The beast lunged. Chaos erupted.
Swords clashed, cries filled the air, and blood stained the earth. The wolf was impossibly quick, tearing through the group with ruthless precision.
Erin fought back fiercely, his fear melting into fury. Each swing of his blade screamed defiance. He felt the sting of claws on his arm, the burn of blood trickling down his cheek.
The others shouted his name, fighting to protect one another.
For minutes that felt like hours, the forest became a storm of violence.
Then, with one final desperate swing — fueled by fear, rage, and pain — Erin drove his sword deep into the wolf's chest.
The creature collapsed. The forest went still.
They stood there, gasping, trembling, staring at the fallen beast.
Erin dropped to his knees. We're alive… we actually survived.
He began healing the others with his blessings, the faint light of his magic flickering in the gloom.
But even as their wounds closed, despair didn't leave their faces.
"Erin," one whispered, "this isn't right. Let's go back."
Erin didn't answer. He stared into the woods again, the darkness calling louder than before.
That night, the group set camp. The fire flickered weakly, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts.
One by one, his companions drifted into uneasy sleep — all except Erin. He stayed awake, staring into the embers.
What am I searching for? he wondered. And why can't I stop?
Eventually, exhaustion claimed him too.
When morning came, the others were ready to return.
"It's too dangerous," one said. "We should go home."
But Erin shook his head, eyes hollow yet burning. "If we stop now, everything we've done — all this pain — means nothing. I have to know what's waiting for us."
Reluctantly, they followed.
Hours later, they stumbled upon something strange — a dark pit hidden beneath twisted roots. A foul, rotting smell filled the air.
They tied a rope to a tree and slowly descended, light spells flickering against the black walls.
Each step deeper made the stench worse. The air grew heavy, suffocating.
Then Erin's light illuminated the ground below — and froze.
A body.
It was a boy, about Erin's age, torn and bloodied. His face was pale, his lips cracked, his eyes forever closed. Claw marks covered his limbs, and his clothes were shredded beyond repair.
The others gasped, hands trembling.
Erin's heart stopped. He knelt beside the corpse, his fingers shaking.
The light revealed something familiar — a small pendant, one he had seen before.
No… it can't be.
It was Arkin.
The boy who vanished. The one who fell into despair.
Erin's vision blurred with tears. His body shook uncontrollably.
He could almost feel Arkin's last moments — the hunger, the hopelessness, the final breath drawn in darkness.
"Why…" Erin whispered, voice breaking. "Why did this world let this happen?"
Silence answered him.
The companions buried Arkin near the pit, marking the grave with stones. They prayed quietly — not to gods, but to peace, hoping the boy's soul would find rest at last.
As they turned to leave, Erin glanced back one last time.
The pit yawned in the earth like a wound that would never heal.
The journey back to Elandor was silent. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Even the sunlight seemed dimmer, unable to pierce the shadows that had followed them home.
Would this tragedy forge Erin into something stronger… or would it drag him into the same despair that claimed Arkin?
Only time would tell.
---
Author: "IT'S ME ARKIN."
Creation is hard! Motivate me with your votes 💪
Your boy Arkin signing out — show me you're worthy of reading this! See you in the next chapter 😎🔥
---