Blackness enveloped me—not merely the absence of light, but something deeper, more absolute. It pressed in around me like a living thing, thick and viscous as oil. The searing pain in my neck had vanished, replaced by an odd weightless sensation.

Am I dead? The thought drifted through my mind, seemingly disconnected from any physical form. Is this what awaits beyond the gallows?

Instinctively, my hand went to my throat, expecting to find the brutal evidence of the hangman’s noose. Instead, I felt only smooth, unbroken skin. Each breath came easily, naturally, as if I’d never dangled from the gallows at all. The memory of that final moment—the rope going taut, my lungs screaming for air—seemed distant now, like a half-remembered nightmare.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. I’d faced death countless times in my line of work, had even made peace with the idea of an early grave. But this... this was something else entirely. The endless void pressed in around me, robbing me of any sense of direction or control.

I hated this feeling. Control was everything. Knowing every exit, every angle, every possible outcome. Here, I was blind and helpless.

Is this my fate? I wondered. An eternity of darkness and disorientation? The thought almost made me laugh. It would certainly be a fitting end for someone who had lived in the shadows for most of their life.

I tried to move, to orient myself in this strange void, but there was no up or down, no sense of direction or physical space. The void was absolute, all-consuming.

Think, I commanded myself. Analyze the situation. Find something to anchor yourself to.

But there was nothing to analyze, no parameters to work with. Just an endless void that seemed to mock my attempts to understand it. Each breath tasted of ash and ancient power, reminding me with every instant that I was far beyond any realm I’d known before.

Gradually, other sensations began to return. A strange chill seeped into my very soul. The taste of ash and iron stung my tongue. A faint sound like distant whispers spoke in languages too ancient for mortal understanding.

So this is what justice looks like… Or is it punishment?

“Justice you shall have, mortal. But perhaps not the kind you expect,” said a voice amongst the whispers, ancient and powerful.

I flinched. “Who—!”

“Your story has not yet ended. It has barely begun.”

The background of whispers grew louder, a cacophony of otherworldly voices speaking in tongues that made my head spin. I tried to focus on them, to find some pattern or meaning, but they slipped away like smoke through fingers.

Then, like a wound torn in reality itself, two burning red eyes appeared before me, the same eyes I’d glimpsed just moments before my execution. They blazed with an inner fire that spoke of power beyond comprehension.

“Welcome, Caelum Steelwind.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, resonating not just in my ears but in my very bones. “Few mortals face death with such... potential.”

“What is this place?” My own voice sounded strange to my ears, as if I were speaking underwater. “Have I died?”

Deep laughter rolled through the void like distant thunder. “Death is such a limited concept. You stand at a crossroads, mortal. Indeed, your old life has ended. But what comes next depends entirely on you.”

The burning eyes drew closer, and the shadows around them began to take shape. A towering figure emerged, clad in spiked armor as black as the void itself. A hooded cloak of deepest shadow concealed most of its features, save for those blazing eyes. A belt of skulls clinked softly with each movement, each skull’s eye sockets glowing with tiny flames.

“I am Valic,” the figure announced, power radiating from every syllable. “Known to all as the Dread Lord of Tyranny. And you, Caelum Steelwind, have caught my attention.”

The name sent a chill down my spine. I widened my eyes. Valic, the Dread Lord of Tyranny. I’d heard countless tales of his dark influence, whispered warnings from priests and sages about the corruption he spread. They painted him as a deity of pure evil, a being who delighted in twisting souls and spreading suffering.

Yet, somehow, something felt wrong about those teachings now. Those same priests had served in a system that allowed the powerful to crush the weak, that turned justice into a mockery. They’d preached about evil while tolerating—even profiting from—corruption in their midst.

“Your thoughts betray you, mortal,” Valic’s resonant voice cut through my contemplation. “You begin to see the lies you have been fed.”

The endless void around us shifted and twisted, giving way to solid ground beneath my feet, and coalesced into the shapes of massive stone walls. A throne room materialized, carved from black marble that seemed to drink in what little light existed. Massive columns rose like ancient trees into the black void above. Crimson flames burned in iron braziers along the walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to move with malevolent purpose. The air was heavy with the scent of brimstone and incense.

The floor was polished obsidian, so perfectly smooth it reflected the flames like a dark mirror. Each step I took echoed ominously through the vast chamber, accompanied by the whispers of unseen observers lurking in the shadows.

At the far end of the hall, atop a dais of shallow steps, sat a throne that could only have been forged in the deepest depths of creation. It appeared to be carved from a single piece of shadow given form, adorned with writhing black tentacles of ominous magic and crowned with wicked spikes. Skulls of various creatures were worked into its surface, their eye sockets gleaming with the same fell light as the ones on Valic’s belt.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Valic moved past me with supernatural grace, his armored form seeming to glide rather than walk across the obsidian floor. He ascended the dais and turned, his cloak billowing around him as he sat upon the throne. The red glow of his eyes intensified as he regarded me.

“Tell me, Caelum. Who taught you to fear me? The same priests who turned a blind eye to corruption? The same nobles who used you and discarded you? The same system that branded you a traitor for daring to seek justice?”

His words struck uncomfortably close to home. I’d always accepted the teachings about Valic without question, but now... I stood straighter, fighting the urge to kneel before his overwhelming presence. “They said you corrupt souls,” I replied carefully. “That you twist people into monsters.”

“And what are these accusers?” Valic’s voice carried a note of dark amusement. “The ones who betrayed you, were they not monsters wearing masks of righteousness? Did they not corrupt justice itself to serve their own ends?”

I thought of Marcus Ironwood’s smirking face, of the magistrate’s casual dismissal of truth, of all the times I’d watched the powerful abuse their position while claiming to serve the greater good.

“Do you know why you’re here, Caelum?” Valic continued when I didn’t respond.

“Y… You spoke of potential, my lord.”

“Indeed.” One armored hand gestured lazily, and smoky images began to form in the air between us. I saw myself at various moments in my past—working with the city watch, infiltrating heavily guarded estates, navigating the treacherous waters of noble politics. “You have spent your life serving a corrupt system, thinking you could change it from within. How did that work out for you?”

The bitter taste of betrayal rose in my throat. “Not as I’d hoped.”

“Indeed.” Valic leaned forward on his throne, power radiating from him in palpable waves. “I offer truth, Caelum. A truth your accusers fear because it threatens their carefully constructed lies. Power does not corrupt, it reveals. It shows what has always lurked beneath the surface.”

His words touched something in me that had begun to awaken before back in that prison cell. “What… kind of truth do you offer?”

“Order comes not from empty platitudes about justice, but from strength. True power lies not in serving a corrupt system, but in mastering the forces they fear to embrace.” He made a slight fleeing gesture, and the shadows around us writhed with new purpose. “The darkness you were warned about? It is merely a tool, like any other. One your accusers feared because they could not control it.”

I watched the dancing shadows, and recalled the many times I’d used the darkness to my advantage in my work. It had never felt evil then, simply useful. “Why me?” I asked. “Why show me these truths?”

“Because you stand at a precipice, Caelum Steelwind. In that moment before the noose took you, you began to understand. I saw it in your eyes—the realization that the world is not what you were taught.” Valic’s burning gaze seemed to pierce my very soul. “You have potential. You could become something your accusers would truly fear. Not a tool to be used and discarded, but a force of change.”

The offer was tempting, dangerously so. Yet I couldn’t shake years of warnings about Valic’s deceptive nature. “And what’s the price for these truths? My soul?”

Valic’s bellowing laughter echoed through the throne room. “Your soul? What use would I have for it? No, Caelum. I offer you power, training, a chance to become something greater. All I ask is that you use what I give you to impose order on a chaotic world.”

“Order through strength,” I mused, the concept becoming clearer. “Through control.”

“Through whatever means necessary,” Valic confirmed. “The system you served feared such methods because they knew they could not stand against them. They branded me evil because they feared what would happen if mortals embraced true power.”

I shuddered. How many times had I been held back by rules and restrictions that served only to protect the corrupt? How many times had justice been denied because I’d played by their rules?

“Yes,” Valic purred, clearly sensing my thoughts. “You begin to understand. Your accusers bound you with chains of morality while they themselves knew no such restrictions. But I offer you freedom from those chains.”

I could feel power radiating from Valic’s form, dark and seductive. Part of me still hesitated, years of warnings and teachings crying out in protest. But another part—the part that had been betrayed, that had seen the true face of corruption—yearned to embrace what he offered.

“If I accept,” I said carefully, “what would I become?”

“A warrior of the dark arts, wielding shadows as your sword and shield,” Valic replied, the words carrying weight and promise. “You would train under those who have already embraced these truths, learning to master powers your former allies could only dream of.”

Images flashed through my mind—myself, exacting my revenge, striking fear into the hearts of those who had wronged me. The prospect was too tempting to resist.

“And when your training is complete,” Valic continued, “you would serve as an agent of order in Aetheria, a world of my creation. There, you will find others like yourself, those who understand that true power comes not from following arbitrary rules, but from having the strength to impose your will on reality itself.”

I thought of Marcus Ironwood’s smug face, of the magistrate’s corrupted justice, of all those who had used and betrayed me. The rage that had been building since my arrest flared hot in my chest.

“Your anger is a weapon,” Valic observed. “One they taught you to fear and suppress. But properly channeled, it can remake worlds.”

The moment stretched between us, heavy with possibility. In the depths of my soul, I knew this decision would change me forever. But hadn’t I already been changed? Hadn’t betrayal and injustice already carved away pieces of who I’d been?

I thought about Warren’s words, felt his regrets. But unlike the old man, I had been given a second chance to avenge my past mistakes.

“I accept your offer, my lord,” I said finally, the words feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

Valic rose from his throne, his armor gleaming in the crimson light. “Then kneel, Caelum Steelwind, and embrace your new destiny.”

I knelt on the obsidian floor, the stone cold even through my clothing. Valic descended the steps of his dais, each movement accompanied by the soft clinking of skull-adorned chains.

“With your acceptance” he began, power thrumming through every word, “you leave behind the lies and restrictions of your old life. You embrace the shadows not as things to be feared, but as tools to be mastered.”

He extended one gauntleted hand, ominous energy crackling around his fingers. “Rise now, as a servant of the Dread Lord. Your training begins in Aetheria.”

The images surrounding us began to shift and swirl, reality bending at Valic’s will. The last thing I saw were those burning red eyes, and then the throne room dissolved.

When the shadows cleared, I found myself standing on a windswept plateau under a blood-red sky that pulsed like a living thing. Behind me rose mountains of obsidian black stone, their jagged peaks lost in roiling storm clouds that crackled with purple lightning. The air itself felt heavy, carrying the metallic taste of blood and ozone.

Before me stretched a vast plain where twisted trees grew from soil the color of ash. Their crooked branches reached toward the crimson sky, leaves dark as dried blood rustling in a wind that seemed to whisper ancient secrets. In the distance, I could see the spires of an ominous citadel rising against the crimson horizon, It looked like the only place that might possible have some semblance of civilization.

So, this is Aetheria.

I took my first step forward, leaving behind the man I’d been and embracing the shadows that would reshape me into something new. Something powerful.

Something my enemies would learn to fear.