Blades Entwined

Chapter 2 - Landon

In the stillness of the night, I am tormented by the relentless echoes of my past actions. The darkness presses in around me, a suffocating shroud that threatens to consume me whole.

Once more, I stand amidst the aftermath of chaos, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air. The scene before me is a grim tableau born of my latest assignment - a woman caught in the crosshairs, her crime mere happenstance, her punishment swift and merciless.

Their faces blur into a twisted mosaic of agony and fear, each expression a haunting accusation that sears into my soul. Wide-eyed with terror, their accusing gazes seem to follow my every move, condemning me to an eternity of guilt and remorse.

I attempt to flee, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of my sins, but the shadows coil around me like vengeful serpents, binding me in my own nightmare. No matter how swift my stride, I cannot outpace the memories that plague me, nor the specters of those I have deprived of their lives, their loved ones left to mourn in anguish.

With a gasp, I am wrenched from the clutches of sleep, my body drenched in cold sweat, trembling beneath the weight of my transgressions. Even within the sanctity of my chamber, I find no solace from the darkness that festers within me, a constant reminder of the monster I have become. Though I have grown accustomed to the numbness that often veils my conscience, nights like these strips away the mask I have put on myself leaving me raw and exposed. And in the depths of my soul, there is a burning hatred for the atrocities I commit - a seething anger at the orders that compel me to snuff out the lives of women and children, the innocent casualties of a war they never chose to fight. With a heavy sigh, I resign myself to the inevitable dawn, steeling myself for another day cloaked in shadows and secrets.

As I make my way through the shadowed corridors of the castle, my footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floors, I am enveloped by the eerie stillness of the predawn hour. The castle, a sprawling labyrinth of shadows, looms above me like a silent sentinel, its towering spires reaching towards the heavens with a silent, brooding majesty.

The walls are adorned with ancient tapestries, their colors faded with age, depicting scenes of battles long forgotten and kings long dead. As I pass beneath their watchful gaze, I cannot help but feel a sense of unease, as though the eyes of history are upon me, judging my every move.

The air is heavy with the scent of incense and decay, a strange mixture that hangs like a pall over the castle's hallowed halls. Dust in the dim lights that filters through stained glass windows, casting eerie shadows upon the floor below. It has only gotten worse since the ongoing war with our biggest enemy kingdom Sylvanor; the light and holy kingdom. Who would've thought shadows and light would be at war for nearly over a decade.

I pass by suits of armor, their metal gleaming dully in the dim light, their empty visors staring blankly ahead as though guarding the secrets of the castle's dark past. The silence is broken only by the occasional creak of ancient woodwork and the distant howl of the wind outside.

As I navigate the shadowed corridors of the castle, the faint sound of footsteps echoes in the stillness of the early morning. Guards patrol the perimeter, their eyes sharp and vigilant, scanning the areas for any sign of intrusion. Each nod of their heads as I pass is a silent acknowledgment of the respect they hold for my position - not royalty, but the king's personal assassin and bounty hunter, a role that commands its own form of authority within the castle walls.

They don't like to mess with me; people get hurt when they do. I am the king's right hand, his shadow in the night, tasked with carrying out the darkest deeds that others dare not speak of. They call me 'The Night Reaper.' From a young age, he molded me into a weapon, honing my skills until I became the ruthless killer I am today. It is to him that I owe my allegiance, my loyalty unwavering even as I tread the razor's edge between duty and conscience.