When Shadows Rebel

You ever have the feeling that something is slipping through your fingers? Not a weapon, not a person—control. That invisible grip you thought was unshakable, the certainty that your next step is solid.

That's what I'm feeling right now.

Because shadows don't disobey me.

And yet… one just did.

I stand frozen, staring at the empty space where my shadow warrior had just vanished. It wasn't dismissed. It wasn't consumed. It simply ceased to exist, as if something—someone—had severed the connection.

That should be impossible.

The room is silent except for my own breathing, slow and steady. Outside, the distant echoes of soldiers training in the courtyard remind me that I am still here, still in control. But am I? Because for the first time since my Shadowbound powers awakened, I feel something I haven't felt before.

A presence.

Not from the outside. Not an enemy waiting in the dark. Something inside my power.

I grit my teeth and flex my fingers, willing my shadows to respond. Black tendrils rise from the floor, coiling around me like faithful hounds. The rest of them obey. For now.

But I need to be sure.

I step into my training chamber, where the walls are lined with old scars from my battles. This is where I push my limits. Where I sharpen myself into something unstoppable.

Time for a test.

I summon three of my strongest fallen warriors. These are fighters I absorbed personally—ruthless, efficient, broken beneath my power and reforged as my own. They materialize before me, their ghostly forms flickering with the essence of the abyss. Silent. Ready.

I scan them carefully, looking for hesitation, weakness, rebellion.

"Move."

They obey. Precise, perfect movements. My command flows through them as naturally as breathing. Good.

"Attack."

They lash out at unseen enemies, executing flawless strikes.

Still good.

"Return."

Two of them dissolve instantly, reabsorbed into my essence.

The third does not.

A pause. A flicker of hesitation.

There.

It lasts for less than a second, but I feel it. See it. The warrior hesitates before fading.

A slow breath escapes me. My fingers twitch at my sides.

This isn't coincidence.

Something is changing.

Something inside my power is resisting me.

I don't have time to process it before the doors to my chamber burst open. A scout stumbles in, breathing heavily. His face is pale, his forehead slick with sweat.

"We have a problem," he gasps. "A faction leader has been assassinated."

I frown. Assassinations aren't uncommon. Leaders fall. New ones rise. It's how war works.

"Who?"

The scout swallows hard. "Lord Veyrix of the Silver Fang."

That catches my attention. Silver Fang isn't a weak faction. And Veyrix was no ordinary leader. He was ruthless, cautious. Not an easy man to kill.

"How?" I ask, already knowing I won't like the answer.

The scout shifts uncomfortably. "No trace of a killer. No body. Just… gone."

That stops me cold.

Gone?

No body means no proof, no trail to follow. No signs of a fight. Which means this wasn't a normal assassination.

This wasn't a faction rivalry.

This was something else.

And then it clicks. A power strong enough to erase a faction leader completely. A method that leaves no trace. An attack made from the shadows.

My mind races back to that night. The rogue faction's warrior. Their words.

"The abyss stares back, Riven Graves."

This has their mark all over it.

My fingers tighten into a fist. If they're making their move, then so am I. I don't wait for permission. I don't waste time thinking about consequences.

I'm going after them.

And this time, I won't be the one being watched.

The hunt begins at night.

I move alone, slipping into the streets, my presence concealed by the very shadows I command. The city is restless, whispers of Veyrix's death spreading like wildfire. Everyone is tense, uncertain who will be next. That's what the rogue faction wants. Chaos. Fear. A world where no one trusts the ground they stand on.

But I don't fear the dark.

I am the dark.

I follow the patterns, the rumors, the movements of those who work in silence. I search for the places where people disappear and the whispers grow softer. And eventually, I find something.

A house. Small. Unassuming.

And yet, something about it feels… wrong.

The shadows don't move like they should.

I step inside.

The air is thick with the scent of old blood and something deeper, something ancient. Symbols are carved into the walls, crude and jagged. Not magic, not ritual—warnings. Someone wanted to keep something in.

Or keep something out.

I step further, and the moment I do—

the door slams shut behind me.

And the shadows move.

Not mine.

Not summoned.

Something else.

For the first time in a long time, I feel it again.

The abyss is watching me.

And this time, it's reaching back.