Him 2: The Shadow Demon

The leader of the hooded men stepped forward, his sharp gaze cutting through the group. The others instinctively moved aside as he turned toward one of the figures standing at the edge of the circle. Unlike the rest, this man wasn't cloaked in a hooded robe. His attire was simpler—a dark, form-fitting outfit with minimal adornments, meant for stealth rather than ceremony.

"You," the leader said, his tone clipped but commanding. "Go fetch the Shadow Demon."

The man stiffened slightly, his eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and unease. He gave a curt nod, though his reluctance was clear. "Understood."

Without another word, he turned and made his way out of the chamber, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cavern walls. The other hooded figures exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared to speak. The tension in the room thickened, the black flames in the braziers flickering wildly as if reacting to the unspoken fear.

The leader's gaze lingered on the altar for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low and steady. "The rest of you, prepare the chamber. When he arrives, I want everything in place. No mistakes this time."

The group nodded silently, their movements brisk as they began to adjust the setup around the altar. Despite the leader's calm demeanor, the atmosphere in the cave was heavy with anticipation. Whatever—or whoever—the Shadow Demon was, it was clear that his involvement wasn't taken lightly.

The Shadow Demon was a name spoken in whispers across Aetheris, a name that carried weight far beyond the walls of any kingdom. Nobody knew his true name, and perhaps that was part of what made him so terrifying. Stories of his feats were told in hushed tones, each one more unbelievable than the last. Yet, there was always that unsettling consistency in the details—details that made it impossible to dismiss him as a mere myth.

They said he once wiped out an entire battalion under the banner of the Celestial Empire in a single night, leaving nothing but shadows and echoes behind. Witnesses claimed the soldiers hadn't even drawn their weapons before they were swallowed by the darkness, their screams fading into nothingness.

It wasn't just his power that made him feared; it was the precision, the sheer control he wielded over the shadows. Armies had tried to trap him, luring him with carefully laid ambushes, but he always turned their traps into graves. Shadows moved like living things under his command, twisting and stretching in impossible ways. They swallowed light, sound, and life itself, leaving no trace of their victims.

One of the most chilling stories came from the Kingdom of Eldor. A rebellion had broken out, threatening to topple the throne. Desperate, the king sought the Shadow Demon, offering him an unimaginable reward to end the rebellion. The Shadow Demon accepted but demanded something no one expected—absolute silence about his involvement.

The rebellion ended in a single night. No blood was spilled, no bodies were found. The rebel leaders simply vanished, and with them, any fight their followers had left. To this day, the people of Eldor don't speak of what happened that night, not even in whispers.

But it wasn't just kingdoms that feared him. The powerful, the untouchable—they were not safe either. Noble houses that thought themselves above reproach found their heirs missing or their treasures stolen, with only a faint wisp of shadow left behind as a warning. It wasn't greed or chaos that drove him; it was something colder, more calculated. He worked in the gray spaces of morality, taking jobs that blurred the line between justice and cruelty.

What truly set him apart, though, was the power of his shadows. He wasn't just someone who bent darkness to his will—he was its master. They said his control over the shadow element was so advanced, it bordered on unnatural. He could conjure tendrils of shadow that moved faster than the eye could follow, create entire domains where light didn't exist, and even manipulate the fears of those caught in his presence.

But for all his feats, the Shadow Demon wasn't an indiscriminate killer. He followed his own code, one that no one could fully understand but everyone respected. Some believed he was a monster, while others whispered that he was a man with a purpose too complex for ordinary minds to grasp.

Whatever the truth, one thing was certain—wherever he walked, silence followed, and the kingdoms of Aetheris prayed it wouldn't be their shadows he came to claim.

The air in the cavern had grown colder, the oppressive mist swirling like it was alive. The hooded figures waited in tense silence, their unease growing with each passing moment. The leader stood by the altar, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber, slow and deliberate. The shadows seemed to ripple, growing darker and deeper as the figure emerged from the tunnel. He didn't wear a cloak like the others; his outfit was sleek, all black, blending into the shifting darkness that clung to him like a second skin.

The Shadow Demon.

The hooded men instinctively stepped back as he entered, their heads bowing slightly—not out of respect, but fear. He moved with an unnatural grace, his eyes hidden behind a mask that covered the upper half of his face, leaving only his sharp jawline visible.

The leader of the hooded men stepped forward cautiously, clearing his throat. "We appreciate your swift arrival," he said, his voice steady but low.

The Shadow Demon didn't reply immediately. He stopped near the altar, his gloved fingers brushing its surface. The shadows in the room seemed to respond to him, curling and twisting around his feet like they were alive.

"Why summon me?" his voice finally came, deep and cold, cutting through the silence like a blade.

The leader hesitated for a moment, then straightened. "The boy," he said. "The prince of Aetheris. We need him… and we've encountered complications."

The Shadow Demon tilted his head slightly, as if considering the words. "Complications?"

"One of our attempts failed," the leader admitted, his voice tightening with frustration. "Something—or someone—interfered. The palace is now on high alert, and any direct action would be impossible without severe consequences."

The Shadow Demon's lips curved into a faint, humorless smirk. "And you think I care about consequences?"

The leader swallowed but stood his ground. "We know what you're capable of. That's why we called you. This task requires… precision. The boy cannot die, but he must be brought to us. Quietly."

The Shadow Demon let out a soft chuckle, though there was no warmth in it. "A prince, surrounded by guards, in a palace locked down tighter than a vault." His tone was mocking, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it. "And you want me to walk in and take him like picking fruit from a tree."

The leader straightened, trying to hide his discomfort. "We wouldn't ask if we weren't confident you could do it."

The room grew darker as the Shadow Demon stepped closer to the leader, his presence suffocating. "If I take this job," he said slowly, his voice dropping even lower, "there will be no second-guessing. No meddling. No questioning my methods. Do you understand?"

The leader nodded quickly. "Of course. You'll have complete autonomy."

The Shadow Demon leaned back, the oppressive feeling lifting slightly. "Good," he said simply. "Prepare your payment. I'll bring you your prince."

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, his form melting into the darkness like smoke. The hooded figures let out the breaths they'd been holding, their relief tempered by the lingering fear he left behind.

For now, all they could do was wait. The Shadow Demon had taken the job, and when he moved, there would be no stopping him.