The sun never truly rose in the Eastern Quarter. There were only gradations of darkness—from the pitch black of night to the purplish gray of 'morning'.
Raizel had been standing in the center of the Pit of Darkness—a circular training arena with high obsidian walls—for three hours. His small body was shaking from the cold, but he stood his ground. Showing weakness would be a fatal mistake in the presence of Lord Valthorr.
"You are thinking about something," his father's deep voice broke the silence. Lord Valthorr walked around the arena, his black robes sweeping across the rough stone floor. "Tell me, what is going on in your mind, my son?"
Raizel knew this was a test. Everything Lord Valthorr did was always a test.
"I have been thinking about the nature of Darkness, Father," Raizel answered carefully. "Is it simply the absence of light, or is it something with substance of its own?"
Lord Valthorr stopped in his tracks, a faint smile forming on his scarred face. "An interesting question for a child of your age." He approached Raizel. "Most children—even most adult wizards—ask how to control the Darkness. But you ask about its nature."
With a sudden movement, Lord Valthorr raised his hand. The shadows around them squirmed, then swirled, forming a pitch-black tornado that surrounded them.
"Here is the answer, Raizel. The Darkness is not nothingness. It is a primitive entity that has existed since the beginning of time." The shadows thickened, forming into ghastly shapes with clawed hands and bloodshot eyes. "It is alive. It is hungry. And it chooses its vessel."
Raizel stared at the shapes dancing around them. The logic of his old life screamed that this was impossible—that the darkness was merely a physical phenomenon. But ten years in this world had taught him that the logic of his old world did not always apply here.
"How does the Darkness choose, Father?" Raizel asked, trying to ignore the fear that was beginning to creep into him.
Lord Valthorr laughed softly. "A better question." He waved his hand, and the shapes of the Darkness returned to ordinary shadows. "Darkness chooses those who can bear its burden without breaking. Those who have... a hunger like its own."
Lord Valthorr pulled a small wooden box from beneath his robes and handed it to Raizel. "Open."
Carefully, Raizel opened the box. Inside was a black stone the size of a marble, with purple veins that pulsed like a heart.
"The Soulstone of Darkness," Lord Valthorr explained. "Harvested from the heart of a Dark Wyrm I killed when I was sixteen. You are only ten, but you are far more prepared than I was."
Raizel stared at the stone with a mixture of awe and horror. Even without touching it, he could feel the cold energy emanating from it.
"What am I to do with this, Father?"
"Swallow it."
Raizel looked up, shocked. "Swallow it?"
"You heard me." Lord Valthorr's eyes flashed dangerously. "This is the ritual of the First Bond. Every Dark Lord must go through it. The stone will melt inside you, merge with your soul, and if you are strong enough, you will live—with new abilities."
"And if you are not strong enough?" Raizel asked, though he could already guess the answer.
"Then you will die in unimaginable pain, and I will have to find a new heir." Lord Valthorr answered casually, as if talking about the weather. "But I am sure you will survive. You have... something special in your soul. Something old and dark."
Raizel swallowed. *Did he know? Does he know about my reincarnation?*
Without giving himself time to think further, Lord Valthorr nodded firmly. "Do it now."
Raizel took the stone from the box. It felt cold and strangely oily in his hand. With courage he did not fully possess, he put the stone in his mouth and swallowed it.
The effect came like a bolt of lightning.
Excruciating pain exploded from his stomach, spreading throughout his body like lava that burned every cell. Raizel fell to his knees, his body convulsing. He wanted to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat.
Darkness. His entire vision was filled with absolute darkness.
And in that darkness, he saw—eyes. Thousands of red eyes staring at him, studying him, *judging* him.
"*You are not of this world,*" a voice whispered directly into his mind. "*An old soul in a young vessel. Interesting.*"
Panic struck Raizel. The Dark Entity could see his reincarnated soul!
"*Fear not, child of man,*" the voice continued. "*We do not care where you come from. We only care about what you offer.*"
*What do I offer?* Raizel tried to ask in his mind, still trapped in excruciating pain.
"*Hunger,*" the voice answered. "*The same hunger as ours. The thirst to survive, to change fate, to... be more than just a puppet of fate.*"
The spy moved closer, as if observing him from a more intimate distance.
"*You had your own darkness even before you met us, human child. That's what made your soul successfully cross over between worlds. That's what made Lord Valthorr feel something familiar in you.*"
Raizel wanted to argue. He wasn't a bad person in his previous life! He was just an ordinary person with an ordinary life.
"*Darkness doesn't always mean evil, naive child,*" the voice sounded amused. "*Darkness is a primordial power. It can be a protector as well as a destroyer. Depending on the vessel.*"
The pain began to subside, replaced by a strange cold sensation, like ice flowing through his veins.
"*We accept you, Raizel Valthorr. Use our power wisely... or do not use it at all. The choice is always yours.*"
With that, the spy disappeared, and Raizel snapped back to reality. He lay sprawled on the floor of the Dark Pit, his breathing labored. Lord Valthorr stood beside him, his expression a mixture of fascination and... pride?
"You did it," Lord Valthorr said. "And faster than I thought. Eight minutes. My new record is twelve minutes."
Raizel struggled to his feet, but his legs were still shaking. With a slight start, he realized that his palms now bore new markings—thin lines of dark purple that formed an intricate pattern, like ancient runes.
"The Mark of Darkness," Lord Valthorr explained, seeing Raizel's confusion. "Proof that the Darkness has accepted you. Mine is on my back." He parted his robes slightly, revealing a similar, larger and more complex mark on his shoulder.
"What… happened now?" Raizel asked, his voice hoarse.
"Now," Lord Valthorr smiled broadly, "the real training begins."
---
Six hours later, Raizel collapsed onto the floor of his chambers, his body covered in bruises and cuts. Several of his ribs felt cracked, and he was sure his wrist was sprained.
"Having fun training?" Lilith leaned against the doorway of his chambers, her expression a mixture of amusement and false sympathy.
"Shut up," Raizel muttered, struggling to sit up. "Unless you have something useful to offer."
Lilith chuckled, entering and closing the door behind her. "I have a healing salve." She pulled out a small jar filled with a thick green liquid. "I made it myself from Nightbloom extract and Shadow Salamander blood. It will heal a broken bone overnight."
Raizel eyed the jar suspiciously. "What are the side effects?"
"Good question," Lilith smiled, sitting on the edge of Raizel's bed. "A fair amount of pain during the healing process, and... maybe a few nightmares. But it's much better than waiting weeks for it to heal naturally."
Raizel considered his options. He didn't fully trust Lilith, but that was only natural—no one fully trusted anyone in this castle. Still, their blood pact at least guaranteed that Lilith wouldn't try to kill him directly.
"Very well," he held out his hand. "But you apply it."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "You want me to be your servant now?"
"I want you to take direct responsibility if something bad happens," Raizel glared at her. "Besides, didn't you say you wanted to protect me? Consider this a start."
Lilith stared at him for a moment, then laughed—a real laugh this time, not the cold laugh she usually used. "You really are different from our other siblings. I'm beginning to see why Father chose you."
Carefully, Lilith began to apply the ointment to Raizel's wounds. Her touch was oddly gentle, a contrast to her notoriously cruel nature.
"So," Lilith spoke as she worked, "I see you've received the Dark Mark. How does it feel?"
Raizel stared at the mark on his palm. "Strange. Like there's something foreign yet familiar inside me now."
"That will continue," Lilith applied ointment to Raizel's cracked ribs, making the boy hiss in pain. "The Darkness will always whisper to you now. Every moment, every decision... it will offer you a shortcut, instant power at a price always higher than you expect."
Raizel raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you have experience."
Lilith snorted. "While Father didn't give me the formal First Binding Ritual like you, he had... another method of binding me to the Darkness." She brushed her hair from her neck, revealing a black mark shaped like a tree root that ran from behind her ear down her neck. "Shadow Bind. Less powerful than yours, but more... special."
"Special how?" Raizel asked, growing curious about his half-brother.
Lilith smiled mysteriously. "Let's say that while you are blessed with the general power of Darkness, I am blessed with the specific talent to... communicate with it."
Before Raizel could ask further, a sharp pain shot through his body. The ointment began to work, bonding bones and closing wounds with unnatural speed.
"Well, it's starting to work," Lilith stood up, closing the jar of ointment. "You're going to have a rough night, little one. I suggest you prepare for some pretty... creative nightmares."
As Lilith walked towards the door, Raizel called out to her. "Wait. What's going to happen in the next training?"
Lilith paused, not looking back. "Father will begin teaching you real combat magic tomorrow. Usually, this is when most of his students... don't come back in one piece."
"And you won't tell me how to deal with it?" Raizel asked, slightly annoyed.
Lilith turned, her expression serious for the first time. "There is one way. The only way that works with Father." She paused for a moment. "Surprise him. Do something he never thought you could do. Show initiative beyond his instructions."
With that, Lilith left, leaving Raizel alone with his pain and his thoughts.
*Surprise him. Easier said than done.*
As the night wore on, the pain from the ointment became almost unbearable. Raizel clenched his fists, holding back his screams. *I will not scream. I will not show weakness, not even to the walls of my own room.*
Breathing heavily, he stared at the mark on his palm. The purple lines now glowed dimly in the darkness.
*Use our power wisely... or do not use it at all.*
The words of the Dark entity rang in his mind. A choice. Perhaps the only true choice he had in this world.
With full concentration, Raizel tried to feel the new power flowing through his blood. Cold, sharp, yet obedient—like swords waiting to be swung.
Slowly, the shadows around his bed began to move, responding to his will. They writhed, stretched, and then formed into tiny shapes—like miniature humans made of pitch-black darkness.
"Become… my eyes," Raizel whispered, unsure if this would work. The shapes tilted their faceless heads, as if listening. "Go. Find out… about Father's training tomorrow."
With broken, insect-like movements, the shadows spread out, slipping under doors and through cracks in windows. Raizel was surprised at his own success—he wasn't even sure what possessed him to try this.
As the shadows left, Raizel felt his energy drain away. Lilith's healing ointment continued to work, now accompanied by a burning sensation radiating from his Dark Mark.
His eyes felt heavy. Despite his efforts to fight it, sleep began to overcome him.
*Nightmare,* Raizel thought as his consciousness began to fade. *Lilith said there would be nightmares...*
---
*He stood in the middle of a vast meadow. The sky above him was clear, the sun shining warmly—an almost foreign sight after his years in the bleak Eastern Region.*
*"Isn't it beautiful?" a voice asked from behind him.*
*Raizel turned and saw a middle-aged man with a very familiar face—his own face from his previous life.*
*"You..."*
*"I," the man smiled sadly. "Or rather, you. The version that should have been."*
*"This is just a dream," Raizel muttered. "A side effect of Lilith's ointment."*
*"Of course it's a dream," the man laughed. "But that doesn't mean it's not real." He approached Raizel. "Look what's happened to you. It's only been ten years, and look how dark your soul is now."*
*"I did what I had to do to survive," Raizel defended himself.*
*"Really?" The man stared at him sharply. "Or do you enjoy it? Power. Strategy. Manipulation. The parts of you that were always hidden in your previous life are now free to flourish, aren't they?"*
*Raizel didn't answer.*
*"It's okay, you know," the man continued, walking past him to look out over the meadow. "We all have a dark side. Except, in this world, your dark side is the key to your survival."*
*"What do you want?" Raizel asked, starting to feel uneasy.*
*"To remind you." The man turned, and suddenly his face changed—to that of Lord Valthorr. "That no matter how deep you plunge into the Darkness, you always have a choice."*
*The scene changed drastically. The meadow disappeared, replaced by a large room with a stone altar in the center. On the altar, a woman was bound—his mother, Lyanna, who had been killed soon after his birth.*
*"Save me," the woman whispered, blood pouring from a wound in her neck. "My child... save me..."*
*Lord Valthorr—or whatever entity had taken his form in this dream—smiled cruelly. "You can save her, you know. The Darkness has the power to bring back the dead. But the price..."*
*"What price?" Raizel asked, even though he knew this was just a dream.*
*"A piece of your own soul. The more valuable you wish to bring back, the greater the portion of your soul you must give up."*
*A cry of pain came from behind Raizel. He turned and saw a row of people—his dead half-brothers, the captives beheaded by Lord Valthorr, and dozens more he did not recognize.*
*"They can all return," Lord Valthorr whispered in his ear. "If you pay the price."*
*"No," Raizel shook his head firmly. "This is only a dream. A trick. A test."*
*Lord Valthorr laughed. "Very clever, my son. Always on guard." He changed form again, this time into a shapeless figure with a thousand eyes—the Dark entity he had encountered during the First Bonding Ritual.*
*"This is indeed a test," the entity admitted. "The first of many to come. You pass... for now."*
*"What do you really want from me?" Raizel asked, frustrated.*
*"What we want from all our vessels," the entity replied. "Evolution."*
---
Raizel awoke with a jolt, his breathing labored and his body drenched in cold sweat. The dim purplish light from the window signaled that the dawn of the Eastern Realm had arrived.
With a start, he realized that his body was no longer in pain. Lilith's ointment had worked perfectly—his cracked ribs felt whole, and his sprained wrist had healed.
But that wasn't the only surprise. At the edge of his bed, the small shadowy figures he had sent out the night before had returned. They moved restlessly, as if they wanted to convey something.
"Show me what you found," Raizel commanded quietly.
The figures merged into one, forming a larger shadow on the floor. The shadow then shifted, forming an image—a circular room with intricate symbols on the floor, and in the center of the symbols, a black sword was stuck.
*Central Ritual Chamber,* Raizel thought. *And that sword... that must be Shadowfang, Lord Valthorr's legendary sword that is said to only be wielded by those of Valthorr's pure blood.*
The shadow shifted again, now showing Lord Valthorr speaking with an old man in a robe—Archmage Morbus, his father's chief advisor.
"—the true test," Lord Valthorr's words came faintly through the shadow. "If he can draw that sword, he truly is my heir. If not, then..."
The shadow dissolved back into small figures, then disappeared completely, sinking into the floor. Raizel sat there in thought, processing the information he had just learned.
*So that was Father's plan. A test I could not possibly pass.*
Raizel knew the legend—Shadowfang could only be wielded by those of Valthorr's pure blood. While he, the son of a concubine with mixed blood, could not possibly be considered "pure".
*"Surprise him,"* Lilith's words rang in his ears. *"Do something he never thought you could do."*
A plan began to form in Raizel's mind. Risky, almost impossible, but if it worked...
With renewed determination, he rose and prepared to face the day. A day that might be a turning point in his destiny in this world.
The Central Ritual Chamber was exactly as his images had shown—round, with intricate symbols on the floor and Shadowfang embedded in its center. Lord Valthorr stood at the side of the chamber, along with Archmage Morbus and several members of the Dark Council.
"Ah, my son," Lord Valthorr greeted with a dangerous smile. "Just in time. Today we will train your combat magic skills."
Raizel bowed respectfully. "I am ready, father."
"Very good." Lord Valthorr gestured to the black sword. "But before we begin, I want you to take that weapon. You will need it for today's training."
Raizel could sense the trap in his father's words. Around the room, members of the Dark Council watched with impassive faces, but their eyes gleamed with expectation—expectation of failure and possible death.
"Shadowfang," Raizel said, examining the sword. "The legendary sword of the Valthorr family."
"You recognize it," Lord Valthorr nodded in satisfaction. "Good. You paid attention in your history lessons."
Raizel approached the sword slowly. As he drew closer, he could feel the cold aura emanating from the black blade. The runes on the floor began to glow faintly, responding to his presence.
"Be careful, Prince," Archmage Morbus warned in a hoarse voice. "The sword has devoured the souls of many who have tried to wield it without permission."
*Without permission*, Raizel thought. *Not without pure blood.*
Standing before the sword, Raizel stared at it intently. This was a test designed to fail him—to prove that he was not the true heir. His blood was impure, and if the legends were true, the sword would reject him, perhaps even kill him.
But Raizel had a plan.
"I, Raizel Valthorr," he spoke loudly, "ask permission to wield Shadowfang, the legacy of my ancestors."
The room was silent. This was no ordinary ritual—no one had ever "asked permission" for the sword.
"Interesting," Lord Valthorr murmured, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
Raizel took a deep breath, then raised his palm that was marked with the Darkness. He scratched the mark with his fingernail, letting his blood drip onto the symbol on the floor.
"It was not my blood that asked," Raizel continued, "but the Darkness that chose me."
His blood hit the symbol, and instantly, the room shook. The symbols on the floor changed color from red to deep purple, pulsing like a heart.
With what courage he could muster, Raizel reached out for the hilt of his sword.
*This could kill me*, he thought. *But if I don't, Father will kill me in a more painful way.*
As his fingers touched the hilt of the sword, a sharp, cold sensation spread through his hand. The sword was assessing him, studying him, perhaps even looking into his reincarnated soul.
*"Interesting,"* a voice whispered in his mind—the voice of the sword itself. *"An old soul in young blood. Not pure Valthorr, but... has something more interesting."*
*Allow me to use you*, Raizel pleaded in his mind. *Not as your master, but as your partner.*
A moment of silence, then something that felt like a cold laugh filled his mind. *"Clever. No one has ever asked for such a thing before. They always seek to dominate, never to partner."*
Raizel felt the sword loosen its "grip."
*"Very well, Raizel of Two Worlds,"* the sword decided. *"Let us see how interesting this partnership can become."*
With one firm pull, Raizel drew Shadowfang from its holster. The sword felt light in his hand, as if it were an extension of his own body. Its black blade was now streaked with purple, responding to Raizel's blood and his Dark Mark.
A complete silence fell over the room. The faces of the members of the Dark Council showed unconcealed shock. Archmage Morbus took a step back, his eyes wide.
And Lord Valthorr—for the first time since Raizel had known him—looked genuinely shocked.
"Impossible," whispered one of the Council members.
"The sword accepted it," muttered another.
Lord Valthorr stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the Shadowfang that Raizel now held. "How?" he asked, his voice a mixture of awe and suspicion. "How did you do it?"
Raizel lifted the sword, watching the purple light shimmer along the blade. "I am not trying to be its master," Raizel answered honestly. "I am offering a partnership."
There was a pause, then Lord Valthorr's laughter filled the room—a genuine laugh, not his usual cold, menacing laugh. "Partnership! Of course!" He shook his head. "For centuries, the Valthorrs have sought to dominate their heritage, never once considering partnering with it."
Lord Valthorr approached Raizel, and for the first time, touched his son's shoulder with something almost like... pride.
"You exceeded my expectations today, Raizel," he said. "You not only passed the test, you changed the test itself."
He turned to the Council members. "Please leave. Today's training will be a private lesson between father and son."
Once the room was empty except for the two of them, Lord Valthorr stared at Raizel intently. "You knew this was a trap."
Not a question, but a statement.
Raizel nodded. "Yes, Father."
"How did you know?"
Raizel paused for a moment, weighing his answer. Admitting to his little shadows might show his growing magical talent, but it also risked making his father more wary of him.
"Lilith," he decided on a partial lie. "She gave me a hint that there would be a big test today."
Lord Valthorr snorted. "Of course. That girl always has eyes and ears in surprising places." He didn't look angry, but rather amused. "But how did you know about the 'partnership' approach?"
"That..." Raizel searched for the right words. "It just felt right. If weapons have their own consciousness, then wouldn't it be better to treat them with respect?"
Lord Valthorr stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You have a unique perspective, Raizel. A way of thinking that is not of this world."
The words made Raizel freeze for a moment. *Did he know?*
"Well," Lord Valthorr continued, "now that you have Shadowfang, the real training can begin." He drew his own sword—a long, black blade engraved with a skull. "We will begin with the basics of sword fighting. And I will not hold back."
*Of course not*, Raizel thought sarcastically. *That would be too unlike you.*
But as he raised Shadowfang to the ready, Raizel felt a new confidence. The sword seemed to whisper movements to his muscles, telling him how to stand, how to block.
*"We are partners,"* the sword's voice whispered in his mind. *"I will teach you, and you will take me on adventures no wielder has ever experienced before."*
For the first time since he was born into this world, Raizel felt like he had a true ally—even if that ally was an ancient sword with a consciousness of its own.
"Prepare, my son," Lord Valthorr took up his attack stance. "The first lesson in real combat: attacks always come without warning!"
With barely perceptible speed, Lord Valthorr struck. But thanks to Shadowfang's whisper, Raizel managed to block—something that should have been impossible for a ten-year-old against a seasoned warrior.
Lord Valthorr's eyes widened briefly, before a wide smile spread across his face.
"Oh, this will be interesting," he said, his red eyes gleaming with excitement. "Very, very interesting."
In the corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, Lilith watched with a faint smile. *You've surprised him, little brother*, she thought. *Now the question is—how far can you push that surprise before it turns into suspicion?*
For in the Valthorr family, the line between pride and suspicion, between affection and murder, has always been very, very thin.