Chapter Forty-Five– The Return of the Shadow
The capital of Ashren stood silent.
Once a gleaming citadel of magic and invention, now the skies above it were clogged with shadow. The streets felt hollow — hushed whispers of old soldiers, the creak of steel against armor, and the distant roar of a world plunging into madness were all that remained.
Andrei stood at the tallest balcony of the Ashren Citadel, hands gripping the stone rail, watching the fires burn across his eastern provinces. The invading forces from Zephyron had begun their march, naval vessels striking deeper each day. From here, he could see smoke curling toward the heavens like fingers grasping for hope that no longer existed.
"What is happening to the world…?" he muttered.
He was older now. Wiser, perhaps. His once-ruthless eyes now bore the weight of loss, betrayal, and exhaustion. Power still ran through his veins — enchantments laced into his blood, crafted by sorcerers long dead — but even that felt hollow.
Andrei had ruled Ashren for more than a decade, since Andrew's disappearance. He had built his reign with cunning and strength. And yet, all that now trembled. The war that raged had no victor. Only death.
Andrei's lips curled bitterly. "This isn't the world we bled for."
He turned from the balcony and strode down the obsidian hallway leading to the throne room, the crimson banners of Ashren fluttering behind him. As he entered, the silence deepened.
Because someone was already sitting on his throne.
A shadow.
A man.
Andrei froze mid-step.
"…You," he whispered.
Andrew sat there — not in royal robes, not armored, but clad in black battle garments pulsing with a faint ethereal glow. His long dark hair fell over his shoulders, and his eyes… they weren't human anymore.
Behind him, like a ghost drifting from nightmare, stood Mihai. Calm. Cold. Unblinking.
"Hello, old friend," Mihai said.
Andrei stumbled back, his voice caught between awe and terror. "You're supposed to be gone. Dead or… or human. You were human three years ago. How? How did you come back?"
Andrew's face didn't move for several seconds. Then, slowly, he stood. The air around him shifted — the torches along the throne room walls flickered violently, darkness stretching toward him like loyal dogs awaiting their master.
"I was human," Andrew said at last. "But I died. And then I chose not to stay dead."
Andrei stepped back again, the shadow aura pressing into his lungs like smoke. "You… you started all of this? The war? The invasion of Zephyron? The destruction of the western and southern continents?"
Andrew descended the stairs of the dais. "No. I simply watched. Humanity does this to itself. Every time. But if you mean to ask whether I lit the fire… then yes. I gave them the match."
"Why?" Andrei spat. "Why destroy everything we built? You showed me mercy in the revolution. I— I remember! I was at your feet, begging for death, and you let me live. And now… this?"
Andrew stopped a breath away from him. His presence was like standing before a storm — electric and unnatural.
"You disappointed me, Andrei. All of you did. I left you this land… and you made it weak. You wanted thrones instead of peace. Borders instead of unity. Now, I offer you one last choice."
He lifted his hand, and shadows surged from his palm like living mist.
"Join me," he said. "Or die with the fools you now ally yourself with. There is no Dream Land. There is no continent. Only the Kingdom of Shadows. And I will not be opposed."
Andrei trembled.
He should have refused. Should have shouted, fought, anything. But the truth was etched into his bones.
There was no victory against Andrew.
There was only survival.
Andrei dropped to one knee.
"I pledge myself," he said, his voice hoarse, "to the King of Shadows."
Behind him, Mihai's face twisted into a smile.
Andrew placed a hand on Andrei's head.
Darkness surged through the kneeling man's body like a second birth. His enchantments screamed, clashing with the invading shadow. But in moments, the shadows won. They wrapped themselves around his core, his skin, his soul.
Andrei opened his eyes — and now they glowed violet-black.
He was a High Shadow, like Mihai.
He rose slowly, flexing his hand, marveling at the strength he had never known. "This… this is power."
Andrew turned back toward the throne. "Then wield it. And reclaim this land in my name."
Renaming the World
That evening, the flags of Ashren were burned.
In their place, banners of darkness were raised: deep crimson with a single black crown etched in ink that shimmered like obsidian fire.
The kingdom once known as Ashren no longer existed.
It was now: The Shadow Kingdom.
Word spread fast. Messengers of darkness, creatures born from Andrew's aura, were sent across the continent. Cities that had once fought in the name of freedom bowed without resistance. They knew. Andrew had returned.
Only one remained defiant.
Alex.
His coastal cities burned with enemy fire, but he still stood. His sword still rose for those who could not.
The Frontlines
Kael stood shoulder to shoulder with Lira and Cristi atop the walls of Verthas. The Zephyron Armada continued its assault, but Kael's heart was heavy for another reason.
They had all seen it.
The banners.
The name change.
The rise of Andrei… beside Andrew.
Lira whispered, "He joined him."
Kael nodded.
Cristi didn't speak, merely clenching his fists until smoke curled from them.
A raven of shadow passed above them, a whisper trailing behind its wings.
"The King of Shadows watches."