The Shadow That Watches

Riven stood frozen as his own shadow moved against his will—a sensation unlike anything he had experienced before. He had long since become one with the darkness, learned its secrets, mastered its whispers. But now, something else was inside it. Something that did not belong to him.

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the night, pulling his attention to the figure standing at the edge of the battlefield. The masked individual was clad in dark robes, sigils etched into the fabric glowing faintly with a crimson hue. The mask itself was unsettling—an ancient symbol carved into the forehead, its meaning unknown to Riven.

"Strange," the figure murmured, their voice smooth and measured. "You don't even flinch. Most would panic by now."

Riven didn't reply. His instincts screamed at him to attack, to eliminate the threat before it grew, but his shadows hesitated. Twitched unnaturally.

For the first time since he had awakened his powers, they did not obey him completely.

He clenched his fists. No. No one controls my power but me.

With a flick of his wrist, his shadows surged forward, tendrils of black slicing through the air toward the masked figure. But just before they reached their target, they froze. Twisted. Crumbled apart as if something had severed their very essence.

A slow, amused laugh came from behind the mask. "Oh, this is going to be interesting."

Riven had fought powerful enemies before, warriors capable of manipulating elements, shifting space, even bending minds. But no one had ever turned his own power against him.

His body moved instinctively, darting forward with speed enhanced by his lingering shadows. A dagger formed in his grip, molded from the darkness itself, and he slashed at the figure with precise, lethal intent.

Steel clashed against shadow.

The masked figure caught his blade—not with their hands, but with a flickering mass of darkness that mirrored Riven's own. Tendrils of black energy wrapped around the dagger, twisting it into nothingness before Riven could reclaim control.

His mind raced. How?

The rogue warrior took a step back, tilting their head as if in thought. "You have control. But do you have understanding?"

Riven narrowed his eyes. They aren't just some rogue fighter. They know something. About me. About my power.

"You're interfering where you shouldn't be," he said, voice cold. "You're not the first to try. You won't be the last."

The figure chuckled. "Perhaps. But you're different from the others."

Their shadows began to move unnaturally, as if they were alive. Riven felt something shift in the air—a ripple in the void he had never sensed before. His own shadows reacted, recoiling slightly, as if recognizing something older than them.

The masked warrior leaned forward. "The abyss stares back, Riven Graves. Are you ready to see what's inside?"

Then, without another word, they stepped back—and vanished.

Not in the way a normal shadow-wielder would disappear. There was no shift into darkness, no melting into the void.

One second they were there.

The next, they simply weren't.

A deep silence followed. The battlefield was empty save for Riven and the fading remnants of his enemies.

He stood there, unmoving, his heart pounding slower than it should. His shadows flickered around him, uncertain. He tightened his grip.

This wasn't just some nameless faction sending a spy to scout him. This was deeper.

They had known his name. Knew about his power. And worse?

They had power like his.

He exhaled sharply, regaining control of his thoughts. This changed things. He had assumed he was alone in this—that his power was unique, an anomaly. But if this rogue faction had someone who could manipulate the void like he did…

No. Not like him.

Different. Older.

He had to find out what they knew.

Turning away from the battlefield, he reached into his cloak, pulling out a small enchanted stone given to him by the Organization. A tool meant to send a signal when needed.

For a long moment, he simply stared at it.

He had planned to work in the shadows for as long as possible. To stay off the radar. But after tonight, he knew the time for secrecy was coming to an end.

With a flick of his wrist, he activated the stone.

The Organization would come. They would ask questions.

And for the first time, he might actually need some answers himself.