Apurv_4942

In a world ruled by warring factions, power is everything. Born powerless, Riven was destined to be forgotten—until his sister, a legendary warrior, was assassinated before his eyes. Rage and grief awakened something ancient within him: Shadowbound Powers, allowing him to raise and command the fallen.

Believed dead, he hides in a low-ranking faction, secretly growing his army of shadows. But when his true strength is revealed, whispers spread, and The Organization—the same force that watched his sister die—calls him in. They’ve been watching all along, waiting for him to break.

But he has his own plans. The war between factions is only the beginning. He won’t just survive. He will rise.

Shadowbound: Rise of the Forgotten

The news spreads like wildfire—a faction leader, erased without a trace. No blood. No body. Just... gone.

Riven doesn't need confirmation to know what this means. This isn't a power struggle between rival factions. This isn't political betrayal. This is something else. This is the rogue faction.

They are sending a message, and they want it to be heard loud and clear.

His faction is in an uproar. Commanders hold emergency meetings. Scouts are dispatched in every direction. And yet, despite the chaos, no one knows anything. No one has seen the assassin, no one has tracked their movements, and no one understands what they're dealing with.

They tell him of movements unseen, of figures slipping through the cracks of existence. They tell him something lingers beyond human perception, something that moves like him but isn't him.

The Organization orders him to stay put, to wait for further intelligence.

Riven moves alone, tracking whispers and following the subtle disturbances in the air. He listens to dying rumors—scattered reports of shadowy figures appearing in dead zones, of abandoned outposts left eerily untouched. The deeper he digs, the more unsettling the pattern becomes.

Each location he visits is the same. Empty. Not destroyed. Not looted. Just… abandoned, as if those who lived there simply ceased to exist.

Even his shadows hesitate as he walks through the last known coordinates of the missing faction leader. It's a ruined temple, overgrown with vines, the air thick with something wrong.

His own voice sounds foreign in the silence.

The shadows flicker in response. Something is here. Something not visible to the eye, but lingering—watching.

The scout is barely alive when Riven finds him. Gaunt, shaking, eyes hollow. As if he's already half-dead. Fear is written into his very bones.

Riven crouches beside him, gripping his collar. "Who did this?"

The scout's breath hitches. His lips move, but at first, no sound comes out.

Then, a single, quivering whisper:

Riven's grip tightens. "What did you see?"

The scout's gaze locks onto his, eyes wild with something beyond fear. His body trembles violently. "It moved like smoke. A shadow... but not like yours."

Riven feels a rare chill crawl up his spine.

His mind races. Is it another necromancer? Another user of forbidden magic? Or… something worse?

The scout suddenly stiffens. A gurgling sound escapes his throat. His entire body locks into place, as if seized by invisible hands.

His shadow—the scout's own shadow—twists unnaturally.

It stretches against the ground in impossible ways, bending at sharp angles, convulsing like a living thing. And then it starts to rise.

Riven reacts instantly. His instincts scream at him. He slashes through the shadow with a blade of pure darkness.

The moment his weapon makes contact, the shadow shrinks back, recoiling. But the damage is already done.

The scout's body collapses. Lifeless.

A slow, eerie silence settles over the area. He is alone.

Yet he feels like something is still watching him.

And then the realization crashes into him like a blade to the chest:

The rogue faction isn't just watching him anymore.

The Assassin’s Trail