Between Shadows and Light

The World of Endora, The Dark Empire

The rider's gaze swept across the empty alley, where only the occasional guard passed by. Finally, he halted before the fortress towers—gloomy and dark, exuding both chill and grandeur. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and moments later, a lightning bolt tore through the sky, illuminating the towering castle windows. In some of those windows, candlelight flickered faintly.

The rider gently tugged on the reins, and his horse obediently stopped at the gates. He tilted his head back, pulled down his hood, and pierced the guards with a sharp, unwavering stare. His straight black hair, reaching his shoulders, was tied back with a leather strap. A crooked, wide scar ran down the left side of his face, from temple to jaw, slicing directly across one eye. In his steely eyes, a hint of red flame flickered. The guards instinctively stepped back and looked away.

"Open the gates," he said.

One guard stepped forward but froze when his eyes met the riders'. Sweat trickled down his temple, and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword—not to attack but as if the mere feel of it could offer some safety. His fingers trembled slightly. The other guard opened the gates with shaking hands, cursing himself silently for not keeping his composure. As the rider entered, the guards remained still.

When the gates closed behind him, the guards exchanged glances. One muttered a curse, and the other exhaled slowly as if he had just avoided the greatest mistake of his life.

The ruler of the Dream Kingdom is on their soil.

It could mean nothing good.

____________________________________________________________

A vast, domed hall lay silent. Hundreds of candles burned along the walls and in chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, yet not a soul stirred within. The scent of smouldering wicks filled the air. A three-metre-tall winged figure carved from cold, dark stone stood at one end of the hall. It wore a long, hooded cloak, and at its feet lay a pile of human skulls—some cracked, others crumbling. The candlelight reflected off their pale, decaying surfaces.

A massive throne stood atop a stone platform at the opposite end of the hall. It was carved from solid rock and adorned with gemstones. Two serpents entwined across its backrest, their eye sockets glinting with large rubies. Not far from the throne, by a tall window, stood two chairs and a one-legged table adorned with several old leather-bound books decorated with engravings. Upon a crimson velvet cushion lay a large onyx orb.

Adrian slipped through a small door, its creak muffled by thunder. His eyes darted from towering columns to shadowed corners, his hand tightly gripping the hilt of his dagger. He moved silently, barely letting his heels touch the stone floor, but his breath was uneven. Stopping in the hall's centre, he looked around, seeking what he had come for. His gaze paused on the throne, then shifted to the winged statue. Nothing.

"It must be here somewhere..." he muttered, continuing his search until the heavy clang of a metal door opening made him freeze.

Quickly, he slipped along the windowed wall and hid behind a column before he could be seen.

The doors opened, and a tall man stepped in. The hem of his dark blue cloak swept lightly across the floor, and his long blond hair rested upon his shoulders. Adrian clenched his fists and pulled deeper into the shadows. His heart thundered in his chest.

Simon Phoenix, Adrian spat the name in his mind.

He held his breath, willing himself still.

He watched as the man tossed his cloak over the back of a chair. His tight-fitting garments showcased a strong build, and the metal plates on his chest shimmered in the candlelight. A small, curved dagger in a leather sheath hung at his side, and Adrian instantly recognised it.