37 Fragments of a Lost Soul"
John and the others arrived at the inn.
The building, built in the beating heart of the city, was a five-story building made of polished greenish marble with gold edges that reflected the sun's glow like enchanted mirrors. Crimson velvet curtains hung from the windows on the second floor and above, and a fountain carved in the shape of a dragon adorned the main entrance. Only distinguished-looking people passed through those doors, moving with the confidence of those carrying ancient coats of arms or new riches.
As they entered, their footsteps echoed on the black marble floor studded with gold veins. The main hall was spacious, lit by an enchanted crystal chandelier that hung overhead like a suspended constellation. A subtle scent of lavender and amber filled the air.
They walked through the lobby in silence, and were guided to the reception desk.
"I'll take my leave now," said the noble-looking man who accompanied them. His tone was calm, and his eyes, discreet, gave John one last appraising glance. Clearly, he had already made his registration before.
"Thank you very much for your help," John replied, bowing slightly in courtesy.
There were few people in the lobby. Some were sipping delicate drinks from thin glass goblets while chatting quietly in small groups. When John and his group entered, they briefly attracted attention—mostly because of their clothes and posture. But after a brief silent survey, the others went back to their activities.
"Welcome to our inn," said the receptionist, tilting her head slightly with a practiced smile.
She looked about nineteen years old, with golden eyes and slightly elongated ears that revealed her mixed-race origins. She was a demi-human—an extremely rare thing in this city. Up until that point, John had never seen anyone who wasn't human.
"How much is a room?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
The receptionist answered clearly. Judging by John's refined attire, she assumed he was a young nobleman on a trip. She glanced briefly at Beatriz and Iza, and assessed them as possible high-ranking maids.
— Prices vary depending on the floor. The first floor costs one silver coin per night. For each higher floor, the price increases by one more coin — he explained politely.
—I want two of your best rooms, please—John declared without hesitation.
Beatriz raised her eyebrows in surprise. To her, this seemed like an arrogant waste. Her clan had only prepared a few gold coins for her use at the Institute—and even those came with strict recommendations to be frugal.
John, however, was not worried. As Fernando had explained, the Institute would not use the currency of the kingdom. That silver would soon lose value. So why not take advantage of it?
The receptionist hesitated for a moment. Her fingers touched the counter as if mentally processing the amount of the transaction.
—They're still available, right? — John asked when he noticed her silence.
— Y-yes! The rooms are available — she replied, a little hurriedly. Then she handed over two silver keys with enchanted inscriptions. John received them calmly and made the payment right there, without bothering with the curious looks from those around him.
Before the receptionist could even show John to his quarters, the main door to the hall creaked softly. A young blonde woman with her hair tied in a high, tight ponytail entered, accompanied by a boy who appeared to be about fifteen years old. Both were human.
The young woman's posture was confident, her step light, and her gaze swept the room with the familiarity of someone accustomed to receiving attention. There was a certain refined arrogance in her presence, but tempered with youthful elegance.
"Hello. I want two of your best rooms," she said, turning to the receptionist with a slight, almost impatient smile.
The attendant hesitated for a second, discreetly consulting the records before responding with a brief bow.
"I'm sorry, Miss Laura, the two best rooms have already been requested by the young gentleman here," he replied, casting a respectful glance in John's direction.
Laura turned to him, and her blue gaze met his. Instead of hostility, there was interest and analysis. John could feel the difference at once—there was something in the way she was watching him. As if she were measuring his worth.
Despite their similar age, Laura exuded an aura of nobility even more pronounced than that which surrounded John. Perhaps that was why, even though she wanted what he had, she restrained herself. She didn't dare act rudely. Instead, she offered him a charming smile and winked slightly, with practiced grace.
— Little brother... could you please give me one of your rooms?
John kept his expression neutral, but his instincts kicked in. He discreetly activated his sonar. He sensed nothing remarkable coming from the girl. No elemental flow, no core pulsing beneath her skin. But when his eyes fell on the boy behind her...
His heart almost skipped a beat.
A dense elemental power—more intense than his own—poured out of the teenager like embers contained beneath a sheet of ice. It was pure, but strange. John had never felt anything like it. It was... light.
In Venhorst Castle, there was no one whose primary element was that of light. Even rarer: he sensed only one kind of nature in the boy. Singular. Immaculate.
A primary being, level two, at the peak.
— No — John answered, coming out of his thoughts. His voice was firm, without hesitation. He needed rest. After a week of traveling on dangerous roads and sleepless nights, that bed — that specific bed — was the least he wanted for himself... and for Iza and Beatriz.
— Little brother... I can refund your money. If you want, I'll offer double — Laura insisted, with a smile that tried to seem kind, but already sounded slightly uncomfortable.
— Still, the answer is no. I'm sorry.
He wasn't even worried about money. If he could, he would get rid of most of it. What he was looking for was peace—and comfort.
Laura pursed her lips slightly, as if she were not used to hearing a "no." But, restrained, she turned to the receptionist.
— Which rooms are still available?
— The available rooms are from the first to the third floor, miss.
— And the ones in the fourth and fifth?
— I'm sorry. They were all booked by local mercenaries.
John had already lost interest in that discussion. Without another word, he turned to the receptionist and, after confirming the payment, let one of the hotel staff guide them. They went up in silence, he, Iza and Beatriz.
To his delight, the two rooms were side by side.
Finally, he could rest with a clear conscience — and his senses alert. Because that aura of light... wouldn't leave his head any time soon.
Beatriz and Iza entered their room next door, and as soon as the door closed, the atmosphere of the luxurious accommodation completely enveloped them. The windows were high, the floor was covered in a velvet carpet, and the beds... the beds were masterpieces of softness.
With a wide smile, Beatriz threw herself onto the soft surface of the bed, sinking into the white sheets that gave off a light scent of lavender and expensive soap. She buried her face in the pillow, sighed deeply and murmured into the cotton threads.
— Iza... jump over here. It's so soft and comfortable. I wish I could sleep in a bed like that every day of my life.
Iza walked to the other side of the bed, sitting down cautiously before letting herself fall gently. Her body sank into the dense foam, and she let out a small "hmm" of approval.
— It's really soft... this bed is a dream.
Beatriz rolled over until she was facing her companion, her hair disheveled against the sheets. A mischievous glint lit up in her eyes.
— Iza... have you ever slept in a bed this soft before?
Iza nodded, barely moving her lips.
— Seriously? No kidding — Beatriz arched an eyebrow, genuine surprise in her voice.
"It's true," Iza replied, sounding somewhat defensive. "I've slept in an even softer bed."
Beatriz widened her eyes and rolled closer, as if she was about to hear a state secret.
- Where?
Iza looked around as if to make sure they were really alone. Then she approached Beatriz and whispered:
— You can't tell anyone. Promise?
— I promise — said Beatriz, already with a smile on her face, amused by the performance.
— One time... I slept in John's bed.
Beatriz blinked. Iza continued, her cheeks already red:
— It was as soft as feathers. And... it smelled like him. That calm, clean... a little woody... smell.
Iza's face rose from pink to scarlet as she spoke. Beatriz's eyes widened, and a mischievous smile appeared.
— Iza...
— Hm?
— You like John, don't you?
The question came like an unexpected bolt of lightning. Iza turned red as a tomato, and in a quick movement, she hid under the sheets, trying to disappear from the world.
— H-how can you ask that just like that, out of nowhere!?
— Don't tell me! You really like it! — Beatriz giggled, now sure of her deduction. — It was just a guess... but your reaction says it all!
— I don't like it at all! You're wrong! — Iza tried to deny it in a muffled voice, hidden under the sheets.
Beatriz pulled the blanket away with a sharp tug, revealing her friend's completely flushed face.
— Based on your behavioral patterns, you clearly like John. Just look at your face! Red as a beetroot! It's just the two of us here... you can tell me.
— Tell what? — said an unexpected voice, interrupting the conversation.
They both froze.
John had just entered the room. He was leaning against the door, arms crossed, staring at them with a neutral expression—though there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
Iza froze. Her blush was no longer just visible—it was incandescent. Her face felt like it was about to catch fire. Swallowing hard, she asked in a voice so thin it sounded like it came from a shy mosquito:
— J-John... what... what did you just hear?
—I just came in... was I supposed to hear something? — John asked, one eyebrow slightly arched.
— N-nothing! — Iza replied too quickly, burying half of her face in the pillow.
John narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a step forward.
— Iza, are you okay? Your face is red... do you have a fever?
— It's nothing, I'm fine — she replied, her voice higher than usual.
— John — Beatriz intervened, smiling lightly — why do you enter the girls' room without knocking?
"The door was open," he replied, shrugging. "I assumed it was okay for me to come in. Sorry if I bothered you."
— So... why are you here?
— I came to tell you that we'll be going down to eat something in an hour.
— Ah... so that was it. Okay.
John looked at Iza one last time, as if he still suspected something, but when he realized that everything seemed under control, he turned around naturally and left. Beatriz, this time, made a point of walking to the door and closing it firmly.
— Huffa... it was almost there — Iza sighed, after a moment of silence.
The two looked at each other. And then, as if their nervousness had turned into bubbles of laughter, they began to laugh together, muffling the sound in the pillows.
In a forgotten village among the dense forests of the Ngola kingdom, the day dragged on under a gray sky, tinged with the heavy clouds that always seemed to hover over that region.
The firm footsteps of Alfonso, the leader of the mercenaries known as "Saturday Night", echoed on the stone slabs of the central inn. Beside him, walked with an arrogant air, two figures that caught everyone's attention: Dark Shadow and his sister.
Their entrance was like a sharp wind cutting through the stuffy hall. The villagers, accustomed to each other, looked up in surprise and whispered to one another. The contrast was stark—the villagers respected the local mercenaries, but to see Alfonso, the fearless commander, bow in deference to a young stranger… it was unusual.
At the counter, Juliana, the receptionist, stopped her guest registration when she saw the trio approaching. Her eyes flickered between Dark Shadow's always cold countenance and the disinterested expression of her sister beside him. But it was Alfonso who spoke.
— Juliana... I want the best room in the inn. It's for my master.
Juliana blinked, confused, her pen poised in midair.
— Alfonso, since when do you have a master? Are you kidding me?
The man gave him an impatient look, as if he preferred to avoid explanations.
— Just... give me the best room.
Unsatisfied, Juliana frowned, crossing her arms in front of the old wooden counter. Since when had Alfonso acted so invasively? The man had always been direct, yes, but now... there was something different. A nervousness in his gestures. A strange rush. She cast another glance at the two figures beside him—their sober and neat clothes, their faces too young and serene, like statues.
— Alfonso... who are these children? — she asked in a restrained but firm tone. — Where did you get them from?
Dark Shadow slowly turned his face toward Alfonso, without a word. Just his gaze—cold, serene, sharp as a sheathed blade.
Alfonso swallowed hard. A chill ran down his spine.
"This is Dark Shadow," he said, forcing a smile that died in the attempt, "my... master. And this is your sister."
Juliana opened her mouth to protest, but Alfonso, with discreet movements of his hands, asked for silence with nervous gestures. There was a silent plea in his eyes.
The voice that followed was low, monotonous, without any emotion—as if it belonged not to a young man, but to something ancient and distant.
— Hey, young lady. Is the room available or not?
Juliana shivered. Dark Shadow's intonation held no direct threat… but the emptiness in it was enough to chill one's blood. She responded almost reflexively:
— Y-yes... sure. The room is available.
— Then give me the key. Discuss the price with Alfonso.
Without another word, Juliana turned around and picked up the matching key. She looked at Alfonso, who nodded slightly.
"Room twelve," he murmured, extending the antique iron key across the counter.
Dark Shadow took the key without even looking at it.
— Come on, little sister.
His sister followed him silently, her eyes never leaving the ground. The pair walked away with the same aura of mystery with which they had arrived. But before turning the corner, Dark Shadow stopped. His voice, still expressionless, crossed the air like a sentence:
— Alfonso. Bring the village chief. I want to have lunch with him.
— As you command, Master Dark Shadow.
The sound of boots on the floor disappeared down the hallway. When the two brothers were out of sight, Juliana let out a sigh she hadn't known she was holding.
— Afonso... who were those children? What the hell was that?
He turned slowly to her, his eyes hard as stone.
— Silence. Speak more quietly. Who did you just call a... child?
He straightened up, his chest puffed out in an almost religious reverence.
— He is Master Dark Shadow. A powerful warrior. Immeasurably powerful.
Juliana turned pale. The same mouth that was now trembling had, seconds before, called that young man a "child."
- That is true?
— Of course it is.
— So... why does he look like just a kid?
— Who knows? — Alfonso replied with a half smile. — Powerful warriors have peculiar methods to hide their true form. Maybe he is older than you and I combined.
Juliana remained silent for a moment, reflecting. Doubt corroded her thoughts like rust on iron.
— Did... did I offend you?
"Don't worry," Alfonso said with a dry laugh. "Master Dark Shadow is magnanimous. If he had taken offense… you would be dead by now."
— D-dead?
"Yes." His voice was firm, without a hint of humor. "You'd better be careful when interacting with him in the future. And treat his sister with even more respect. Master Dark Shadow cares deeply for her."
The tension that hung between them gradually dissipated, replaced by an understanding silence. From the intimate manner of their conversation, it was clear that Juliana and Alfonso shared an old friendship. He had shared with her part of what had happened between his team and the enigmatic warrior. And, at that moment, between advice and warnings, Alfonso was teaching her how to behave in front of someone whose nature transcended common understanding.
In the afternoon, an unusual silence reigned in the main hall of the inn. The tables were empty, the air filled with a forced stillness. Someone—perhaps Alfonso—had discreetly forbidden other guests from approaching.
Sitting at one of the central tables, Dark Shadow and his sister remained serene, as if the world around them belonged to them by right. Ahead of them, a middle-aged man with a gray beard and attentive gaze maintained a respectful posture, even as he ate with restrained gestures. It was Sebastian, the village chief.
— Warrior Dark Shadow, welcome to our village — he said in a polite voice, although it carried a poorly disguised tension.
Dark Shadow slowly looked up.
- You are?
— Sebastian, chief of the village. I came at your request.
The boy nodded slightly, accepting his presence.
— Dark Shadow Warrior — Sebastian continued, trying to keep the conversation flowing — may I know what brings you to our village?
— I have been traveling to distant lands, accompanied by my sister. We ended up here by chance. Is there a problem with our presence?
"Not at all," Sebastian hurried to reply, almost stumbling over his words. "On the contrary. You and your sister are very welcome in our village. You can stay as long as you wish."
"I'm comfortable," Dark Shadow said, with the same neutral intonation, "but I don't intend to stay long."
— Why not? — Sebastian stepped forward, in a sharper tone than he intended. — Our village is not to your liking?
Dark Shadow watched the village chief closely. He noticed, with almost surgical precision, the sudden fluctuation in the man's emotion. The restrained despair. The fear beneath the politeness. But he chose to ignore it, like someone who ignores an insect that flies too close.
He just smiled, imperceptibly.
"I seek a way to expand my strength," Dark Shadow replied, his voice as calm as the surface of a windless lake. "I do not believe that remaining in this village will contribute to that goal."
"Hmm… so that's it," Sebastian muttered, letting out a long sigh, as if he had expected another answer. "So, how about you and your sister rest here for a while? You must be exhausted from the trip."
— Of course. We'll stay for a week at most.
— Uh… a week? — Sebastian repeated, trying to hide his shock. His eyes widened, albeit briefly, and his hand hesitated as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. He was clearly planning something within that time frame… and he had no intention of informing his somber visitor.
— Exactly. After that time, we will continue our journey.
"Don't worry," the village chief said, regaining control of his expression. "You'll be well taken care of while you're here."
Dark Shadow simply nodded, resuming his meal with restrained elegance. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound in the room.
— Little sister — he murmured, with a softness that clashed with the enigmatic presence he exuded — why aren't you eating? Doesn't the food please you?
The young woman, who until then had only been playing with her fork, looked up and silently took a portion to her mouth. Dark Shadow smiled. A discreet gesture, almost imperceptible — but real.
"I have something I want to ask you," he said, turning to Sebastian.
"You can ask whatever you want," the old man replied, keeping his tone cordial.
— I want information about the region. Both on a local and broader scale.
Sebastian composed himself and began to speak. Dark Shadow listened in absolute silence to each word, absorbing every detail with attentive eyes. He did not interrupt him, he simply processed and recorded, as if each word had strategic value.
The rest of the day passed without incident.
At night, inside room number twelve, an almost ethereal calm reigned. The darkness was illuminated only by the flickering light of a lamp in the corner of the room. On the right side of the bed, Dark Shadow's young sister slept peacefully, her hair spread like strands of silk across the pillow.
Dark Shadow sat in an armchair by the window, eyes half closed, lost in his own thoughts. The silence was absolute—so deep that the soft sound of the girl's breathing sounded like a whisper between dimensions.
"Ngola," he thought. It was the name Sebastian had told him. A distant kingdom, with borders still unclear to him. The village where they were was remote, isolated, and the nearest town was called Kissala.
"That's where I must go," he decided.
Sebastian and Alfonso were useful to some extent, but limited. Their knowledge barely reached beyond the horizon. For Dark Shadow, that was not enough. Real, strategic information could only be found in larger centers. Kissala would be the next step.
His eyes wandered to his sleeping sister. Her serenity was the only thread that kept him in the world of men.
And then, like a bitter memory, his past came back to him.
Once, he was an imperial prince in the far western continent. His name was Keny.
And in a single day, he lost everything.
Once, Keny was an imperial prince, heir to a vast empire on the western continent. His days were filled with banquets, politics, and golden promises of an unassailable future. But fate, with its silent cruelty, came like a sickle dipped in bile.
His empire was reduced to ashes. His imperial family, slaughtered. Friends? Dead. His bride? Consumed by chaos. No tears remained, only a void as deep as the abyss.
He harbored no hatred—he did not even consider revenge against the woman responsible for such ruin. He had no energy left for resentment. He had only one body left: that of his younger sister, whom he had despised in life... but who, at the crucial moment, offered her life to save him.
She died smiling.
And it was there, in stagnant despair, that he clung to her corpse with the strength of a condemned man. Not out of hope. But because refusing to let go was all he had left.
With the few artifacts he had saved from the Imperial destruction—ancient grimoires, demonic relics, and a Time Gem—he accomplished the unthinkable: summoned an avatar of the Ruler of Hell .
The ritual was not an act of courage. It was a last breath of a broken man.
Luck—or perhaps Fate itself—spared him. He survived the test imposed by the infernal avatar, a labyrinth of pain and madness where most would succumb before the first step.
And thus, an eternal covenant was sealed.
Dark Shadow was born there, at the junction between a human heart and the flames of hell. He partially abandoned his humanity, becoming a half-demon... the Herald of Hell .
Your only request?
— Bring my sister back.
The ruler complied. But what came back to life was not really his sister. It was a shadow. A broken reflection. Fragmented in soul, reanimated by infernal necromancy, she had become something between life and death. An undead creature with the appearance of a child , whose eyes no longer glowed the same way.
During the restoration process, the Ruler was attacked in his own domain. Mortally wounded, he fell into a deep sleep, unable to protect his new herald.
With no alternatives, Dark Shadow was forced to flee Hell. He wandered between worlds until he was dragged to the Austral continent , more precisely to the kingdom of Ngola , where he fell, weakened, in an isolated village.
Now, he was a Level 2 Primary being . But to reach Level 3—and go beyond, to the throne of a new hell—he needed two things: elementary knowledge and formal training .
Joining a powerful organization was the only way to achieve this goal. However, he knew nothing about the Austral continent. Nor about the Ngola kingdom. Nor about the forces that moved in the shadows.
During his conversation with Sebastian, the village chief, Dark Shadow noticed something strange. There was too much hesitation in the man's words, fake smiles hiding intentions. One thing was clear: he wanted Dark Shadow to stay in the village . But why?
In the dead of night, under a starless sky, Dark Shadow kissed his sleeping sister's cold forehead. His fingers brushed her black locks, as if touching a sacred shrine.
Then, with a silent leap, he slipped through the window, climbing to the roof of the inn with the lightness of a living shadow. The night enveloped him, an accomplice. Not a soul noticed his departure.
The wind rustled through the palm trees, and the village chief's residence rose up ahead: solid, rustic in architecture, but clearly reinforced.
There were guards—two on either side of the main entrance and one farther away, patrolling. Primitive men. Weak. None of them noticed the dark presence approaching, like a hungry specter.
Dark Shadow watched silently, his eyes glowing like red slits in the veil of night.
Dark Shadow believed that even for someone of his level, the darkness of that night would be a perfect cloak. He was a demonic warrior, shaped in the flames of hell, trained to disappear into the shadows like a puff of smoke.
From the roof deck, his eyes swept over the residence. A lighted window caught his attention. He moved silently toward it, and peered inside.
In the room, a young woman was resting peacefully. She must have been the same age as him. Her face was calm, shaped by youth, and her calm breathing filled the room with a false sense of security.
Sebastião, the village chief, watched her with eyes filled with tenderness. Love. Fear. And something deeper, more hidden—a silent despair that vibrated deep within his soul.
Then he blew out the candle and left the room in silence. Dark Shadow followed him, hiding his presence like a shadow made of night.
Sebastian entered another room and lit a candle. The flickering light revealed a woman lying on the bed, partially propped up on the pillows.
— Honey, is that you? — asked the woman, in a low but alert voice.
— Yes, it's me — he replied, coming closer.
He sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped her in a tired hug.
— Did I wake you up? — he whispered.
"No, I was already awake," she said, snuggling into his chest.
"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" he suggested softly.
— The closer the day gets... the more nervous I get — the woman murmured.
— Honey, don't think about it so much...
— How can I not think, Sebastião? We're talking about our daughter!
Her voice shook with bitterness and fear. The candle cast dancing shadows on the walls, as if the room itself felt the weight of the moment.
— Honey... are you really going to hand over our daughter?
Sebastião took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on nothing.
— Over my dead body. I would never hand Suza over to those bastards.
— So... what are we going to do? — the woman insisted, squeezing his arm tighter. — The deadline ended three days ago.
He closed his eyes. The silence between them was thick as winter fog.
— What about the warrior who came to the village... can he help?
"I don't know," Sebastian muttered. "At first I thought it was one of them... but that's not the case."
— So maybe he can help us?
—I don't think that's likely. He's just passing through. And besides... he's just one man. There are so many enemies, I don't think he can take them all on.
— Even if Dark Shadow was strong enough to free us from this problem... our village is poor. We have no way to pay for his help.
She was silent for a moment, her eyes moist.
— So... there's nothing we can do?
Dark Shadow stood motionless outside, listening to every word. The candle flames flickered inside the room as if trying to reveal secrets to the wind. He knew now that there was something rotten lurking in this village. Something cruel enough to make desperate parents consider whether to betray or protect their own daughter.
But to him, this was still just one piece on a larger board.
— I have a plan...
Sebastian's words came out like a thread of hope in a sea of despair. But Dark Shadow had heard enough.
That situation, as tragic as it was, had no direct relation to him — or to his sister. And that was what mattered. His mission was another, much more personal... and much more hellish.
A sudden wind blew through the night and the bedroom window flew open with a sharp crack.
— Honey, you didn't close the window properly — Sebastian murmured, standing up immediately.
He walked to the window, closing it with a sharp gesture before giving his wife a disapproving look. The candle flame wavered for a moment, then stabilized. And the night finally returned to its stillness.
Dark Shadow returned to the inn. He slipped back into the room like a nameless specter, closing the window he had left through. He found his sister sleeping, her serene face illuminated by the last shadows of dawn.
They slept in separate beds, side by side, until the sky began to lighten and day chased away the darkness from the village.
— Little sister, did you sleep well? — he asked when he woke up.
She nodded and, without saying a word, jumped into his bed as lightly as a feather. She snuggled into his chest like a cat rediscovering the warmth of its owner, and he stroked her hair gently.
After the simple breakfast prepared by Afonso, the servant approached with a reverent posture.
— Master Dark Shadow, the village chief, along with his wife and daughter, are here to see you.
Dark Shadow raised an eyebrow. It wasn't hard to imagine the reason for this visit—it probably had something to do with what he had heard the night before.
— Okay. Bring them here, I'll greet them.
Afonso nodded and left. When he returned a few minutes later, he had three figures following him.
Sebastião was in front, his features marked by a sleepless night. His wife was at his side, firmly holding their daughter's hand — a young woman with a restless and silent look, visibly pressured by a reality too cruel for her age.
Author's Note:
The flame of vengeance burns no brighter than the desire to restore those we love—and Dark Shadow knows this better than anyone. But what if, in trying to save one soul, he damns his own?
The story is just beginning, and each decision our anti-hero makes could seal not only his sister's fate... but that of everyone around him.
Now that Sebastian, his wife, and the mysterious Suza cross his path, what will Dark Shadow do? Will he be willing to fight for a cause that is not his... or will he turn his back like he did in the past?
Comment below what you thought of this chapter and what theories you have about the true threat to the village! If you liked it, don't forget to vote and share — your support shapes the hell and redemption of this dark universe! With each comment of yours, another flame lights up in the abyss of Dark Shadow...
Continued.