The wind of the north howled like a wounded beast, dragging needles of frost across a land that had long forgotten warmth. Aaryan stepped from the shadow of the Temple of Dusk and into a white wasteland. The sky above him was colorless, an endless sheet of dying light. Behind him, the temple's last shimmer sank beneath the snow, as if erasing its own existence.
Each breath he drew left a ribbon of mist that twisted into shapes—faces, perhaps, of the souls who had perished when the eighth sun fell. The Sha Essence inside him pulsed softly, black veins tracing beneath his skin like threads of night.
> "You have touched eternity," the whisper murmured within his mind.
"Now eternity will touch you."
He ignored the voice, focusing on the endless horizon. The cold no longer bit his flesh; it merely passed through him, as though his body had already begun to forget what it meant to be human.
---
By the second day, a storm rolled in.
Snow buried the ruins behind him, swallowing the trail of his steps. Aaryan walked without rest, guided only by a faint hum that seemed to echo from the stars. When the blizzard broke, he saw something dark half-buried ahead—a figure collapsed upon the frozen earth.
He approached cautiously. The man's robes were torn, marked with the insignia of the Silver Veil Sect, a minor order that guarded the borders of the north. His chest rose shallowly; blood had frozen around his mouth. When his eyes flickered open, they widened in terror.
"Who… are you?" the scout gasped. "The air—it burns around you…"
Aaryan crouched beside him. "You shouldn't speak."
The man coughed, voice breaking. "We… saw a black light over the mountains. The heavens shook. Elder said… it was a sign of the old shadow… Tell me it's not true."
Aaryan said nothing. The silence was answer enough. The dying scout trembled, then tried to bow. "Forgive us… we awakened what should have remained buried."
The last breath left him like a sigh. His eyes froze open, reflecting Aaryan's face—half-human, half-shadow. Snow began to cover the corpse, and within moments, it looked as though the man had never existed.
---
The whisper inside Aaryan laughed softly.
> "See how fragile they are? Even the name of Sha breaks their hearts."
He stood, letting the storm wash over him. Somewhere beyond the mountains, ancient powers were beginning to move. He could feel their attention like invisible chains across the sky.
"The heavens stir," he murmured. "Let them watch."
With a flick of his hand, the frozen corpse dissolved into black ash that drifted upward, vanishing into the wind. The Sha Essence pulsed brighter, feeding on the life that had just ended.
---
That night, he sought shelter beneath a jagged cliff. The ice glowed faintly blue, the color of imprisoned souls. As he sat cross-legged, meditation came unbidden. The shadow within him unfolded like wings—vast, silent, terrible.
Memories not his own poured into him:
Armies kneeling before a throne of dusk. Suns dying one by one. The laughter of a god who had no name.
Aaryan's breath quickened. His pulse thundered like war drums. For a heartbeat, he saw himself standing above the world, his hands drenched in divine blood. Then the vision shattered. He opened his eyes to find the ground around him scorched black, the ice melted into steam.
The Sha whispered again, almost tender.
> "Power demands nothing but acceptance."
He clenched his fists. "And the price?"
> "Everything you were."
---
Far above, unseen by mortal eyes, the heavens trembled. In distant palaces of light, celestial watchers stirred from their sleep.
"The seal is broken…"
"The eighth line of fate burns again."
"Who dares walk the Sha Path?"
Their voices rippled through creation. Somewhere, a god wept molten tears; somewhere else, an emperor awoke screaming from a nightmare he did not understand.
In the mortal realm, cultivators across continents felt the shiver. Sacred flames flickered. Spiritual beasts howled. The world itself had felt a pulse of shadow.
And at the center of it all, Aaryan lifted his gaze to the stars. He could feel their fear, faint but real. A slow smile curved his lips.
"They called me forbidden," he whispered. "Let them remember why."
He turned north once more. The snow parted before him, melting into mist wherever his shadow fell. Behind him, the wind carried a rumor—a tale that would soon spread through every sect and kingdom.
> A stranger walks the frostlands.
His eyes hold the night.
Even the heavens dare not speak his name.
The world was awakening.
And its first heartbeat… was fear.
---