I stared out my chamber window at Aetheria’s desolate landscape, lost in thought. Gnarled trees dotted the ashen plains, their branches reaching towards the crimson sky like grasping hands of the damned. Mountains rose in the distant horizon, their summits disappearing in the grey mist that crowned the realm.
The stronghold’s isolation was absolute, broken only by the occasional arrival of new prospects seeking to join the brotherhood. During my time here, I’d never seen common travelers approach our gates—no merchants, no vagabonds, no lost souls stumbling upon us by accident. The only visitors were those specifically drawn to our power, those who had heard whispers of the order and chose to seek us out. Most were turned away, deemed unworthy before they even stepped through the main gates. The few who showed promise, like myself, were permitted to attempt the trials. The blackguards existed apart from whatever passed for civilization in this realm, and our solitude was a testament to the exclusive nature of the brotherhood.
I pressed my hand against the window’s cold glass. Frost patterns lazily spread from my touch. Will I ever see what else lies beyond these walls? I wondered, not for the first time. During my studies, I had pored over maps of Aetheria’s various kingdoms and territories. The other blackguards spoke little of their own experiences in those distant lands. Though I was aware of the nine regions that made up this world, I had yet to see them with my own eyes. Were the cities as grand as the texts described? Were there other blackguard strongholds like ours? The few texts I’d been allowed to study spoke of great cities where dark magic flowed like water, of temples dedicated to Valic, of armies that moved like living shadows across the land. Yet from my window, I saw only desolation—a wasteland that seemed to stretch endlessly towards the blood-red horizon. But many days and nights of training had taught me that appearances in Aetheria were often deceiving.
The isolation was strange, yet somehow fitting with a purpose. The blackguards were beings of shadow and steel, separate from the mundane concerns of normal existence. Their purpose was power, and their path was one of constant evolution towards something greater than mere mortality. In my previous life, knowledge had been survival, and ignorance, a quick path to death. But here, in this realm of eternal twilight, my knowledge and understanding felt limited.
I thought about Valic, the Dread Lord, who had given me this second chance at life. Since that first encounter in the void, he hadn’t appeared to me again. Sometimes, in the depths of night, I thought I could feel his presence watching, evaluating my progress. But he remained silent, letting Malachai and other elements in the world forge me into whatever I was becoming. Such forging required focus, dedication, and separation from worldly distractions. Yet I sensed I was being prepared for something greater. After all, why train warriors of such power if not to use them? What purpose did Valic have in mind for his chosen few?
With a sigh, I turned from the window and stared idly at the rest of my quarters. This small, cozy room had become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I could shed the constant vigilance required during training and truly relax. The purple-black flames in the fireplace cast soft shadows on the walls as they shifted in a calm rhythm. The Talons of Twilight rested on their rack, and The Darkweaver’s Embrace hung proudly on its armor stand. Both pieces of equipment emitted a steady, deep-purple glow as though they were at rest and dreaming of the next battle.
A hesitant knock at my chamber door suddenly interrupted my musings. “Enter,” I called, not taking my eyes off the fireplace.
The door opened slowly, too hesitant to be from someone of great power. My gaze swiveled the visitor, a young initiate, barely more than a boy. His soft, round face was paler than a ghost’s. “G-G-Grandmaster Malachai requires your p-presence in the chapel,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “He said to come immediately.”
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I raised an eyebrow at the summons. The chapel was not a place Malachai frequented during training hours, and he rarely interrupted what little personal time he allowed me. Something important must have been happening.
“Did he give any further details?” I asked, already moving towards my wardrobe.
The initiate shook his head. “N-N-No s-sir. Only that you were to come at once.”
“Very well.” I nodded, then dismissed the boy with a wave. As the door closed behind him, I opened the wardrobe and pulled out the formal attire reserved strictly for chapel visits. Unlike the simple training clothes or my combat armor, these garments carried their own kind of power—a statement of rank and purpose within the order.
The outfit consisted of a high-collared jacket of black leather. The shoulders were adorned with silver chains that clinked softly, each link inscribed with runes of power. Beneath it went a shirt of dark purple silk. The trousers were black leather as well, tucked into polished black mid-calf boots, their silver buckles matching the chains on the jacket.
As I dressed, my mind raced with possibilities. The chapel was not a place of light and redemption, but a sanctuary dedicated to Valic, our dark patron. Malachai was not one for ceremony or religious observation. My training focused on practical applications of power more than worship. The chapel was used primarily for important rituals or significant announcements. What could be so important that it requires my immediate presence?
I fastened the final buckle on my boots and studied my reflection in the full-length mirror. The formal attire suited me, I had to admit. The cut of the jacket emphasized the changes in my physique, while the subtle patterns worked into the leather created an impression of constant movement, as if shadows were flowing across its surface. The silver chains caught the purple light from the fireplace. The overall effect was imposing without being conspicuous—exactly what one would expect of a blackguard’s formal wear.
The chapel summons nagged at me as I made final adjustments to my attire. Malachai was not one for unexpected changes in routine. Every aspect of our training was carefully planned, each lesson building on the last in a precise progression of power and control. This sudden summons suggested something outside the normal pattern—something important enough to interrupt my rare moment of rest.
I moved to leave, then paused, looking back at the Talons of Twilight and the Darkweaver’s Embrace. Should I bring them? The initiate hadn’t mentioned weapons, but a blackguard was never truly unarmed—the shadows themselves were our weapons.
After a moment’s consideration, I left them on their stands. If Malachai had wanted me in combat gear, he would have specified it. Besides, the formal attire wasn’t just for show—the runes worked into the chains and leather could channel power almost as effectively as my regular equipment.
The corridors were unusually quiet as I made my way towards the chapel. The normal sounds of training—clashing steel, shouted commands, the hum of shadow magic—were absent. Even the ever-present gargoyles seemed more still than usual, their glowing eyes tracking my progress with increased intensity.
What are you planning, Malachai? I wondered as I walked, the sounds of my footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty corridors. The absence of other blackguards was conspicuous. It felt as if the entire stronghold was holding its breath, waiting for something.
The chapel doors loomed before me, their black metal surface etched with abstract designs. Valic’s symbol—a crown of bloody thorns encircling an iron fist—dominated the center of each door.
I reached out to push them open, then hesitated. The metal thrummed with contained power, more so than usual. Something was definitely different today. The air itself felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. The shadows around me grew more active, more purposeful. They seemed to reach for me with eager fingers, whispering promises of power and transformation. My heart beat faster, responding to whatever force waited beyond those doors.
Something darker.
Something stronger.
Something worthy of the power that I now possessed.
The doors opened with an echoing creak. As I stepped forward, the shadows embraced me like a gentle caress, welcoming their chosen son home.