Greg_Harris_4507

In the gritty streets of Kallzara, a small wayside town where light barely touches the alleys, Revan Sorna survives by his wits—and by magic long forbidden. With the help of a shadowy tome found in forgotten ruins beneath the city, Revan can summon shadows to deceive and distract, but such power comes with a price: shadows cannot be created from nothing, and his own is lazy and stubborn, testing his patience at every turn.

Revan’s partner in crime, Cassie, is a clever con artist with a talent for ice magic and a convincing lost-girl act. Together, they make a perfect team, surviving by picking pockets, pulling cons, and running from those who would see their kind dead or worse.

Tonight’s target is an easy mark: a drunken sailor leaving The Golden Pig tavern. But when Revan’s swift theft is interrupted by a brutal punch, the simple job spirals into something far more dangerous—and far more personal.

As dark secrets from the ruins threaten to surface and enemies close in, Revan and Cassie must rely on their skills, their magic, and each other to survive. But in a town where shadow magic is heresy and trust is a currency rarer than gold, survival might just mean losing everything.

Where Shadows Walk

Location: Everywhere and nowhere — the liminal echo of the Crown's memoryTime: The moment the leyline faltered

It begins as silence.

A stillness so absolute it severs breath from body.

Then, a low hum — felt first in bone, not ear.

In a single heartbeat, the vision grips them all.

Cassie staggers mid-step through the Sable Mire, frost curling from her fingertips. Her eyes go wide — gone glassy — as the forest around her fades into golden ash. Elara cries out, firelight flaring in her palms, then vanishing. She sees a great wheel of flame and shadow turning through the void. Revan drops to one knee, shadow magic leaking uncontrollably as his mind is torn from the present. Orien, on the mountain path, sees blood rain from a sunless sky. A great throne rises from a battlefield of broken masks.

"No. I won't let it end like this."

The Scholar chokes on air, stumbling as time slips sideways — runes erupting in fire across the journal pages.

Kael steadies them, but he too reels, caught in the vision's pull.

And the Masked Woman…

She stands alone in her war chamber — and stillness bleeds across the floor like ink.Then the voice speaks — not to her, but through her:

"You are not my heir.You are not my end.You are the blade between."

She screams — not in fear, but fury.

"Then I will cut the world open to make you kneel."

The Vision Itself

All of them see it:A tower made of mirrors, each one cracked.Within it: the Hollow Crown — suspended, incomplete, bleeding light like a wound in the world.

A voice echoes in every mind, old and vast as stars forgotten:

"The last bearer lives still.And the final fragment is not hidden…It is buried within the price already paid."

The vision collapses — light exploding, silence returning.

The scholar gasps for breath, heart pounding.Kael grips his blade tighter than before.

Far away, the Masked Woman paces like a caged storm.

Cassie clutches her head. Revan bleeds shadow from his palms. Elara whispers, "That wasn't a vision. It was a warning."

And Orien? She stares at her reflection in the blade's edge.

"If the Crown dreams… we're already inside it."

The Crown Dreams