Chapter 2 – Shadows Upon the Throne

The Empire of Solvador – A Kingdom Built on Lies

The capital of Solvador shone like a beacon in the night, its towering spires reflecting the pale light of the twin moons. The city stretched endlessly, a monument to wealth and power—power stolen from him.

Kieran stood atop the highest peak outside the city, his long coat fluttering in the cold wind. His violet eyes burned as they took in the sight of the empire that had cast him into the Abyss.

A thousand years had passed.

And yet, they still ruled.

The emperor's bloodline had survived, his name still whispered with reverence. The Celestial Order, the knights who had once been his brothers, still patrolled these streets. The gods who abandoned him still answered the prayers of their followers.

Kieran clenched his fist. Not for long.

The shadows at his feet stirred, shifting and writhing in anticipation. He had no need for grand entrances or declarations. His return would be silent—like the creeping of death before the slaughter.

With a single step, he vanished into the night.

---

The Whispering Shadows

Moving through the city was effortless.

Kieran was no longer bound by human limitations. Where once he had walked on solid ground, now he moved between the spaces of reality itself. The city's bustling streets, the locked gates, the patrolling knights—none of it mattered.

Shadows bent to his will, hiding his presence as he slipped through alleyways and across rooftops.

His first target was simple: information.

He needed to know how much the world had changed. Who held power? Who would oppose him? Who among the emperor's forces would dare stand against the Forsaken Sovereign?

And most importantly—

Had they forgotten him?

His answer came faster than expected.

As he passed through the marketplace, his ears caught the sound of a voice—his name.

---

A Ghost Among the Living

"…The Forsaken One."

Kieran halted.

The words had come from a tavern, its doors slightly ajar. Inside, a group of knights sat around a table, their silver armor bearing the mark of the Celestial Order.

The very order that had cast him into the Abyss.

He moved to the shadows near the window, listening.

"It's just a legend," one of them scoffed. "A bedtime story to scare squires. The fallen knight who will return from the Abyss to bring ruin upon Solvador? Ridiculous."

"But the high priests are worried," another muttered. "There have been… disturbances. Dark omens. A rift opening near Tenebris."

Kieran smirked. So the gods were already whispering about him.

Good. Let them tremble.

The knight who had spoken hesitated before continuing. "And there's… something else."

The others leaned in.

"The emperor. He's restless."

Silence.

Kieran's eyes narrowed.

"He ordered the Shadow Hunters to investigate the rift."

That caught his attention.

The Shadow Hunters—the empire's most feared enforcers. Assassins trained to eliminate threats before they could rise. If they had been sent to Tenebris, it meant the emperor already suspected something.

Interesting.

The first move had been made.

Now, it was Kieran's turn.

---

An Unfinished Duel

He moved swiftly, his destination clear: the imperial archives.

Hidden deep within the city, beneath the cathedral of Solvador, the archives held records dating back centuries—secrets even the emperor wished to bury. If there was anything about his fall, about the prophecy that led to his exile, he would find it there.

But as he neared the cathedral, a presence blocked his path.

A lone figure stood beneath the moonlight, his golden cloak rippling in the wind. His armor gleamed, the insignia of the Celestial Order branded across his chest.

Kieran recognized him instantly.

Alek Vareon.

Once, they had fought side by side. Alek had been his closest friend, his rival—the only warrior who had ever pushed him to his limits.

Now, Alek's gaze burned with something else.

Not friendship.

Not relief.

Fear.

"…It's true," Alek breathed. His sword was already drawn. "You're alive."

Kieran stepped forward, shadows curling around him. His voice was calm, amused. "Disappointed?"

Alek didn't answer. His knuckles turned white against the hilt of his sword. "You shouldn't be here, Kieran."

"No," Kieran agreed. "I should be dead."

Alek exhaled sharply. "They told us you were destroyed. That the Abyss devoured you."

Kieran chuckled. "It tried."

For a moment, neither moved. The tension between them was suffocating.

Then, Alek lowered his sword—just slightly.

"…Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Why return? After all this time, why not—"

Kieran's smile faded.

"Because I have unfinished business."

Alek stiffened. He knew what that meant.

The emperor.

The gods.

The vengeance Kieran would carve into this world.

Alek's expression hardened. "Then I can't let you pass."

Kieran sighed. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The ground trembled. Shadows exploded outward, swallowing the street in darkness. Alek leapt back, his blade igniting with divine radiance, cutting through the void.

Kieran lunged.

Their swords met, and the city shook.

The first battle of the Forsaken Sovereign's return had begun.