Xturdia opened his eyes.
The rain was gone.
The battlefield was quiet, too quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Smoke rose slowly from the ruins around him. Burned banners lay torn on the ground, their symbols no longer meaningful.
He stood up.
His body felt different.
Lighter...yet heavier at the same time.
Xturdia looked down at his hands.
Black mist clung to his skin like living smoke. When he moved his fingers, the shadows followed, shapping themselves around his will.
"What...is this?" he whispered.
The voice returned.
"Power," it said
"The power you were denied."
Xturdia turned in every direction, but there was no one there. Still, he did not feel afraid. The voice did not feel like an enemy.
It felt honest
"Why me?" Xturdia asked. "Why help someone who lost everything?"
The darkness around him slowly pulled back, forming a tall shape behind him-faceless, endless, like a shadow without a body.
"Because you did not break," the voice replied. "You were abandoned, yet you stood. That makes you worthy."
Xturdia's jaw tightened.
Worthy.
That word burned more than any insult.
"If i was worthy," he said, "they wouldn't have left me."
The shadow did not deny it.
Instead, it moved closer.
"Heroes are loved," the voice said. "Kings are obeyed. But darkness..."
"...darkness is chosen."
Xturdia closed his eyes.
He remembered their faces.
The way they avoided his eyes.
The way they walked away.
"Then teach me," he said.
The shadow spread like wings.
"Very well."
A scream echoed through the ruins.
Xturdia's eyes snapped open.
Figure emerged from the smoke-soldiers wearing broken armor, their eyes empty. Survivors? Enemies? It didn't matter.
They charged at him.
Instinct moved faster than thought.
The shadow surged forward.
Black blades formed in the air, sharp and silent. With a single motion of his hand, the darkness struck. The soldiers fell before they could reach him, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground.
Xturdia stared.
He had not felt anger.
He had not felt fear.
Only calm.
His heartbeat was steady.
"What did i just do...?" he muttered.
"You acted," the voice said.
"Power answers those who do not hesitate."
Xturdia swallowed.
A part of him was horrified.
Another part...was thrilled.
He walked through the ruins as the moon rose high. Shadows followed his steps, bending and twisting to protect him. No creature dared to approach.
At the edge of the battlefield, he stopped.
Beyond the broken walls lay the kingdom he once served.
Now, it was silent.
"They call me traitor," Xturdia said.
"They blame me for this."
"Let them," the voice replied.
"History is written by those who survive."
Xturdia looked at the darkness around his body. It no longer felt like something outside him.
It felt like a part of his soul.
"I won't be their hero," he said slowly.
"I won't be their king either."
The shadow pulsed, as if listening.
"I wil walk my own path."
The voice laughed softly-nog cruelly, but with approval.
"Good," it said.
"Because this world does not need another savior. It needs a ruler from ruin."
Xturdia turned away from the fallen kingdom.
Each step forward felt heavier-but stronger.
Behind him, the shadows closed in, erasing his footprints.
By morning, it would be as if he never existed.
But in the darkness between nations-
A new legend had begun.
END OF ACT I - CHAPTER II...