THE FALL OF LIGHT (Shadow Arise)

(The North King's Plots)

  The snowstorm outside raged with fierce howls, brushing against the towering black spires of Frostgard, the heart of the Northern Realm. Inside the crystal-chilled halls of the palace, silence pressed down like the weight of a curse. Shadows twisted along the high arched ceilings, and the bitter cold coiled itself around every stone.

Kagutsume no Yurei, the North’s most feared and revered magician, stood in the entrance of the war chamber. His eyes—sunken and burning with a ghostly violet light—reflected a rare expression: unease. His dream from the night before still haunted him, echoing in his mind like a chant of doom.

The massive doors groaned open before him, revealing King Zorak, the legendary Dark God of the North. He sat upon a jagged throne carved from obsidian and the bones of conquered beasts, wrapped in a cloak woven from the night itself. His skin shimmered with dark energy—he was no longer fully mortal.

“Kagutsume,” Zorak said, his deep voice booming through the chamber. “You do not enter unannounced without reason.”

“My lord…” Kagutsume bowed low. “I bring a vision… a curse… or perhaps a prophecy.”

Zorak gestured, and the chamber dimmed. The ministers and generals leaned in, while the flickering torches cast long, nervous shadows.

“In my dream,” Kagutsume began, “I stood upon the ashes of our kingdom. The mighty walls of Frostgard lay crumbled beneath fire and storm. The skies were painted red. And before me stood five warriors… glowing. Each one a vessel to a beast of old. One stood in the center… taller, fierce. Behind him… a dragon aura blazed crimson.”

Murmurs swelled.

“I saw the boy clearly. He bears the blood of the South King… Prince Renji Arkus.”

Zorak’s eyes burned with sudden fury.

“And then,” Kagutsume continued darkly, “I saw myself, lying slain beside your throne… and you, my king… lifeless beneath your broken crown.”

Gasps filled the chamber. Fear crept like ice up the council’s spines.

“You speak of madness,” spat one general.

“No,” Zorak snarled. “This is no ordinary dream. Kagutsume’s visions have never failed.”

The king rose. “That whelp… the South Prince dares challenge the rule of Frostgard?” He paced like a panther. “I have waited centuries to rule the entire world. Now fate sends children to stop me?”

Kagutsume stepped forward. “I saw another. A boy with white hair and lightning in his veins… a Wolf User. I’ve seen him before—he was once captured by our scouts… a survivor.”

Zorak clenched his fists, his aura flaring. “Then it is settled. The time for patience is over.”

The King turned to his generals. “Prepare the full Northern Legion. 500,000 soldiers. We will strike before destiny chooses our end.”

The war council broke into stunned movement. Scrolls were fetched. Orders dispatched. Cities alerted.

“But my King,” one advisor warned, “Frostgard is seven months from the southern border.”

Zorak gave a cruel grin. “We will not march.”

He turned to Kagutsume.

The magician raised his staff, carved from cursed bones and etched in spells older than time. His chant echoed through the halls, summoning ancient power.

A rift tore open across the palace floor—swirling with purple lightning and dark fog.

In a flash of magic, the North’s entire army vanished—transported to the nearest fortress within the Wailing Canyons, just miles from Emberlyis, the southern capital.

Zorak turned one last time to look at the throne room. “When I return… it will be as World Lord.”

And with that, he stepped into the rift, followed by the most fearsome army the world had ever seen.

The Shadow had risen. The War had begun.