The silence after the Progenitor vanished was deafening.
Graxion remained kneeling, shadows swirling protectively around him, the residual weight of the vision pressing down like a mountain. He was still gasping for breath when he saw it—floating above the now-empty throne—a crystal shard, pulsing faintly with red and black energy.
The moment he reached for it, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
> "You must not see."
He ignored it.
> [Artifact Detected: Temporal Memory Core]
[Status: Unstable – Contains fragmented future timelines.]
[Warning: Viewing may cause psychological rupture. Proceed?]
"Yes," Graxion whispered.
The moment his fingers brushed the shard, the world around him shattered.
---
He stood in a city of towers and neon.
But this was no place he knew—ships in the sky, weapons pulsing with energy, people moving too fast, too strange. And in the center of it all: a boy.
No—a young man.
Wearing the same ring.
Graxion recognized him from the vision in the Progenitor's mind.
> Quinn Talen.
But it wasn't just his shadow. It was the power behind him—blades of darkness, beasts made of void, wings like broken glass. He stood alone, eyes glowing crimson, as enemies fell before him.
Not humans.
Not vampires.
Something… worse.
A mutated horde of creatures warped by blood and rage.
> "You think you can fight fate with tricks?" one of them hissed, a grotesque fusion of flesh and metal.
Quinn responded without a word—his shadow expanded, swallowing the monster whole. Not just killing it. Erasing it.
But then came something else. A scream. A blinding light.
Graxion turned—and saw a tower falling.
A girl. A woman. Her name blurred in the vision, but her importance was clear.
> She mattered to Quinn.
She was his reason to fight—and his greatest loss.
Quinn screamed, falling to his knees, the shadows around him distorting into chaos. And then the world cracked.
Graxion was thrown back.
---
He awoke on the floor of Nytheris, the crystal shard crumbled in his hand.
His heart raced.
> "He's stronger than me," he whispered.
But that wasn't the frightening part.
> "And still… he breaks."
Graxion finally understood. The ring didn't just choose wielders based on power. It sought pain, loss, emptiness. The Shadow fed on hearts with cracks, turning grief into blades.
Quinn Talen was destined to become something terrifying—not just a warrior of the shadows, but a king forged by tragedy.
> And you, Graxion, the shadows whispered, are the beginning of that legacy…
He clenched his fist. "Then I will prepare the way. He will not fall like I did."
A new objective burned into his mind.
> [Objective Updated: Ensure the Ring Endures]
[Craft a legacy worthy of the Shadow King]
As he left the ruins of Nytheris, the skies trembled.
The future was bleeding backward.
And the shadows were no longer content to remain in the dark.