Death.

Misery.

A euphoria of pleasure at the expense of others.

Ruvan eyed Feno, recalling how they met twenty-four years ago in a raid. Threatening his mother to force the kid to kill Ailen had been satisfying. Darfin used and discarded the kid's mother like all the others. After Feno found her body, Ruvan promised to avenge her for a price.

Loyalty till death and beyond.

Jonik, Falael, Feno, Nylian, and Rhalyf stood around the altar. Each had brought a sacrifice to offer to the darkness. Over the years, it had become a contest among them trying to impress their leader with an impressive kill.

“Hey, boss, why didn’t you bring an offering tonight?”

Eyes sparkling with mischief, Ruvan said, “That’s because my offering walked here alone, Feno.” Peering into the darkness, he called, “Isn’t that right, Lusha? I know Darfin forced you to spy on us.”

Licking his teeth in anticipation, he tapped into his power and whispered in the hidden elf's ear, “Fear not, I will enjoy making you regret it.”

With a casual glance at his followers, he grinned. Steady footfalls approached Lusha curled up in a ball, face drained of color. Hot breath blew in her ear, snapping Lusha out of her daze and into action. Tendrils of solidified shadows tripped her in the attempt to scramble away.

“Where do you think you're going? The altar demands blood.” Hand firm around her throat, he dragged her back.

“The darkness demands your blood."

Her screams were the pinnacle of pleasure that reached a crescendo as everyone took turns slicing into their palms and letting the blood mix with Lusha's.

You have done well, my champion. It’s time to take over your tribe and gather your forces for an assault. I require plenty of bodies for my army.

After tossing the remains for the wildlife to feast on, Ruvan led his group back to camp. Rolling Lusha's eye between his knuckles, Ruvan said, “Tomorrow, Darfin dies. When I strike the final blow, be ready to strike down his inner circle. They will have orders to do the same to you."

...

Anticipation buzzed through the crowd that had shown up for the fight. According to the circulating rumor, after delivering the challenge along with one fresh hazel eye, Darfin allegedly beat the slave to death. The pre-show sacrifices comprised slaves who tried to escape, only to be betrayed by one of their own.

Forced to fight each other, the sole survivor could leave. Escaping the arrow to the back shot from the guard would be a different story.

“The day has come for our upstart ambitious young warrior to show us his true mettle. I have been waiting decades for this chance to slice that smug smile off his face.”

Darfin glared at Ruvan, who remained silent despite the provocation. Instead, Ruven pulled out his dagger and pointed it at the longest-surviving leader in centuries, unveiling his aura, and causing everyone nearby to shrink in fear except those who offered their blood on the altar.

Growling in defiance, Darfin took out his signature curved one-handed blade and poison-laced dagger. Most anyone who knew Darfin would realize he hadn’t lost a single fight in over three decades. Those with reach lasted the longest. The odds of surviving with a single dagger were negligible to an ordinary elf.

The champion of darkness was anything but ordinary. Death itself would cower at the tendrils of darkness he could wield. “I, Ruvan, pray to the darkness and ask to be blessed as I bathe in the blood of my enemy.”

The crowd watched in stunned silence when the two collided. Darfin slashed down across Ruvan's chest, only to stumble forward when his blade cut through the air instead. Reinforced by darkness, Ruvan blurred to the side and used his free hand to punch the sword with enough force to shatter.

Stunned, Darfin dropped his ruined weapon. Fingers numb from the impact, he circled his foe, trying to size him up. That’s when he noticed one crucial clue.

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Where a normal shadow should be, a pulsing pool of pitch-black darkness danced around Ruvan’s feet.

“What are you?”

Arms outstretched, he willed the shadows to climb up his legs, encasing him from head to toe in darkness.

“I am the champion of darkness. Kneel before my might or I will crush you under my heel.”

Forced on his back heel for the first time, Darfin could do nothing as Ruvan rained down dozens of slashes across his body. Every attack pierced his defense. When he tried stabbing into the blur of shadows, an icy sensation of death incarnate manifested.

Commanding his shadow to return, Ruvan stood over the bleeding and defeated elf holding Darfin's poison dagger. He spun to the left and hurled Darfin's dagger at the elf hidden in the shadows, aiming a bow at him. The elf reached for the hilt protruding from his chest, stumbled, then collapsed.

“I rule over the shadows. None will evade my gaze. Now watch the birth of a new age.”

A tendril of shadow emerged from his own and lifted the defeated elf by the ankle until the two of them were looking eye to eye.

The crowd needs some convincing. Show them what happens to our enemies.

Black sharp claws enveloped his fingers moments before he plunged his hand into Darfin’s chest and ripped out their beating heart. Ruvan's subordinates took that moment to slaughter the loyalists left behind. The crowd panicked. Many scrambled to escape.

Shoving his aura down on the audience, he yelled, “Enough! Sit down or join the dead. You are mine now. Rest well for our tribe is going to war. The darkness demands it.”

...

After several weeks of weeding out the loyalists trying to take back control, Ruvan had saturated his tribe with enough dark energy through his aura to influence them. They marched towards the closest permanent settlement nearby and camped far enough back to avoid immediate detection. He gathered his inner circle to discuss the plan.

Pacing back and forth, Ruvan said, “Tomorrow a few of you will go alone pretending to be travelers, looking for a place to rest after leaving your tribe. If they ask why, just make something up. When the last rays of light vanish, your job will be to open the way for us. Lethal force is acceptable. I will lead the charge when you have completed your task.”

When the silence took over, they knew it was time to go. Darkness craved to be satisfied, but it would have to wait a little longer.

…

Feno took the lead, guiding Nylian and Rhalyf toward the settlement. Several guards stood watching over the gate, bored but alert. When they were within each shot, an elf walked out to greet them. Ruven instructed them to leave their weapons behind, besides a dagger, to appear less threatening.

“Greetings travelers. What brings you to Felis Auxry?”

Hand out to greet the guard, Feno said, “My friends and I are heading east looking for a new home. A disagreement with our tribe's leaders caused some discomfort we wanted to distance ourselves from.”

The guard took his hand and shook, nodding in understanding. Feno asked, “Could we spend the night? A roof over our head would do us some good.”

“We would be happy to have you. Follow me.”

Resting inside a guest house later that day, Feno prepared for the operation. “Plan is to leave at different times and walk around, meeting up as the last rays of light vanish. We may not have Ruvan’s capabilities, but our vision in the dark can pierce further than ever before. Use it to your advantage.”

…

Melding into the shadow, Feno smirked at the added benefit he had over his comrades that allowed him to avoid detection. He didn’t expect the other two to survive. They were loyal, but their deaths would be an acceptable trade if they proved to be useful.

When he reached the wall, he climbed up the ladder up to the top of the wall and pulled out his dagger. Taking out a small vial, he poured the prior leader's favorite poison on the blade and advanced on the guards. One by one, he snuck behind, covered their mouth, and stabbed them in the side, then around straight into their heart.

When he cleared out the top of the wall, he whistled, signaling Nylian and Rhalyf to take out the guards standing by the gate. Out of the five elves, three went down quickly before the last two recovered, pressing in against Rhyalyf. A missed parry left him open to a counter, losing an arm. One scout split off to find help, only to find a dagger impaled in their leg.

Landing in a crouch, Feno walked over to retrieve his dagger and finish the scout as Lylian finished the other. He found a torch and walked toward Rhalyf, bleeding out on the ground. He stuffed a piece of cloth in their mouth and pressed the flame up against the stump until the bleeding stopped.

“Nylian, find a safe place to store him and join me.”

Time was of the essence, so Feno stepped up to the gate and shoved it open. He could feel the wave of Ruvan’s dark aura expand along with the charging crowd of elves led by Ruvan himself. The night many would soon call the bloody shadow massacre began.

…

“Kill anyone who resists and round up the rest.”

“Yes, sir!”

Feno and Nylian joined Ruvan in the frontal assault into Felis Auxry. The initial resistance fell apart quickly, leaving those who hid in their homes. The attackers dragged the villagers out of their homes and tossed them into the blood-soaked dirt.

Surrounded by Ruvan’s warriors, the captives huddled together in the courtyard. He focused his aura on the group and forced them all to the ground.

“Rejoice, for this is the night where you become one with the darkness and transcend into something more.”

Those too weak to fight from Ruvan’s tribe started dragging the dead and dropping them into a pile in front of the gate. The shadows swirled around the dead in a vortex of power. Empowered by the growing darkness, Ruvan bellowed out, “Darkness, I offer these dead to you in your name. May the suffering of the innocent bring you joy.”

With a nod, the tribe descended on the captives, cutting them down to the last.

The vortex of shadows spiraled faster and faster until they hit a crescendo and exploded, knocking everyone but Ruvan down.

“Long live the Darkness!”