Chapter 25: Shadows of the Past

The chill of the evening breeze swept through the streets of Vaeloria, carrying with it the faint echoes of the commotion that had just transpired. The lifeless body of the man lay still upon the cobbled road, his face frozen in agony, his skin marred by the unnatural swirling mark. The once-bustling marketplace had become a hollow silence, its inhabitants having fled in fear, leaving behind only scattered wares and overturned baskets. The scent of fresh bread and spiced meats still lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the grim reality before Kaelen and his royal guards.

The young king stood motionless, his piercing gaze locked on the body, his mind already analyzing every detail of what had occurred. The shadowy mist, the strange black-and-purple energy, and the eerie mark—it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Even with his extensive knowledge of shifter energy, the power he had refined and developed beyond its known limits, this… this was something entirely new.

Sir Aldric, still gripping his sword, watched his king carefully. He knew Kaelen well enough to recognize that his mind was already at work, unraveling the mystery. The young knight shifted his stance slightly, keeping a wary eye on the body, his instincts screaming that the danger had not yet passed.

Moments later, the hurried sound of boots striking stone reached their ears. Two figures emerged from the distant street, moving with urgency yet maintaining an air of authority befitting their station.

Lady Marevith arrived first, her presence as commanding as ever. Despite her youthful appearance—restored by Kaelen's power—her sharp silver eyes carried the weight of wisdom and decades of experience. Her deep-blue attire swayed as she moved with measured grace, the cane in her hand humming faintly with suppressed power.

Beside her, Sir Vaedric, the battle-hardened captain of the royal guard, approached with his usual imposing aura. His darkened armor, polished to a mirror sheen, bore the emblem of Vaeloria upon his chest. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze flickered between Kaelen and the lifeless body with quiet intensity.

"My King," Marevith's voice was calm yet laced with intrigue. "I came as soon as I received your summons."

Vaedric, standing at Kaelen's side, studied the corpse for a moment before speaking in a grave tone. "What happened here?"

Kaelen exhaled slowly, turning to face them. "A man—an escaped survivor—came to me with a warning. He spoke of a cult, calling themselves the Shadow Cult. He claimed they had destroyed his village, that they were coming for Vaeloria… and for me." His gaze darkened. "Before he could say more, something happened to him. This."

He gestured toward the body.

Marevith stepped closer, lowering herself to one knee as she examined the mark on the man's neck. Her silver eyes narrowed as she reached out, stopping mere inches from the swirling symbol. The air around her fingertips shimmered as she channeled a little bit of shifter's energy to probe the mark of the dead man.

The reaction was immediate.

The mark pulsed, an eerie, malevolent glow spreading outward like ink bleeding through water. A tendril of shadowy energy lashed out toward Marevith's hand, but before it could make contact, she reacted — golden energy crackling in form of a protective barrier around her. The dark tendril recoiled as if burned, retreating into the mark before vanishing entirely.

Marevith let out a slow breath, standing upright.

"This is… troubling." She turned her gaze to Kaelen. "I have never encountered shifter energy used in such a way. It is as though it has been corrupted, twisted into something vile."

Vaedric crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "So, you're saying this isn't just an unknown form of shifter's magic… but something else entirely?"

Marevith nodded. "It resembles a curse rather than a traditional application of energy." She looked back at the mark, a flicker of concern in her expression. "But the way it reacted to me… it was aware. That is no ordinary use of the energy."

Kaelen absorbed her words, his thoughts racing. A curse using shifter energy—if this cult had mastered such techniques, they posed an even greater threat than he initially believed.

He turned to Vaedric. "I need every record, every historical mention of anything remotely resembling this way of shifter's magic. If it has been used before, even in the distant past, I want to know."

Vaedric nodded firmly. "I'll mobilize the scholars and archivists immediately."

Kaelen then faced Marevith. "Can you dispel it?"

Marevith hesitated. "I can attempt to remove it… but without understanding its full nature, there is risk. Whatever this is, it was meant to kill him in agony. If I forcefully unravel it, it could react violently."

Kaelen clenched his jaw. He despised being unable to act, but caution was necessary.

"Then we will take the body to the Grand Hall of Mystics," he decided. "Let the scholars and mages examine it under controlled conditions."

Vaedric signaled to the guards, who carefully lifted the body onto a reinforced stretcher, avoiding direct contact with the mark.

As they prepared to leave, Marevith spoke once more. "My King… if this cult truly aims for Vaeloria, we must be prepared. This energy is unlike anything I have seen. I do not know the extent of their power."

Kaelen's expression hardened. "Then we will learn."

The Hall of Mystics. A place built by Kaelen's great grandfather, King Valik, it was a place where the best scholars and mages of the kingdom recorded all of their experiences, discoveries and experimented with the shifter's energy to create new things. Such as energy crystal, that are used as power sources for lamps, around the city or inside people's homes. Every discovery is documented inside the library of The Hall of Mystics.

The chamber deep within the royal castle was illuminated by orbs of soft, golden light, casting a warm glow upon the ancient stone walls lined with scrolls, books and artifacts. The Hall of Mystics was a place of learning and secrecy, where only the most trusted scholars and mages worked to uncover the kingdom's deepest mysteries.

Kaelen stood at the head of the room as the body was laid upon an enchanted stone slab. Around him, a select group of scholars and mages gathered, their eyes alight with curiosity and unease.

Marevith took the lead, weaving protective sigils using the shifter's energy in the air as she prepared to study the mark further. The scholars whispered among themselves, noting the unnatural energy radiating from the symbol.

One of the elder scholars, Master Elric, stepped forward, adjusting his spectacles. "My King, if I may… this energy reminds me of something I once read in the lost records of the Old Kingdoms."

Kaelen turned to him sharply. "Explain."

Elric stroked his beard, his eyes distant as he recalled the text. "There were whispers of an ancient sect, long before even the founding of Vaeloria, who practiced a forbidden art… the Binding of Shadows. They were said to be able to curse individuals with living darkness, feeding on their life force until nothing remained."

Marevith's eyes widened slightly. "Are you saying this cult may be a remnant of that forgotten sect?"

Elric nodded gravely. "It is possible. If they have rediscovered these lost arts… we may be facing something far more dangerous than we imagined."

Kaelen took a deep breath, his resolve solidifying. If this cult had indeed returned from the annals of history, then Vaeloria would not face them unprepared.

"We will uncover their secrets," he declared, his voice steady. "We will find their weakness. And we will end them before they can strike."

Silence settled over the chamber as those gathered absorbed the weight of his words.

Marevith placed a hand over the corpse, her energy forming a protective seal around the mark. "Then let us begin."

As the first chants of ancient incantations made by the mages filled the hall, the shadows lurking within the corners seemed to stir, as if something beyond the realm of mortal sight was watching.

And in the distance, far beyond the castle walls, beneath the shroud of night—they were waiting.

The Shadow Cult had begun their move.