..the tall figure of the warrior was hanging chained from the wet moistured wall of his underground cell. His body already broken from the torture it had undergone but his soul was lingering between life and death like the light from the churned coal brazier burning at his side. He had been tortured beyond a human could stand, but not out of need to speak or yield but out of the mere pleasure of breaking one man’s spirit, the spirit of the man who dared raise his sword. Although pain was not unknown to the warrior he could now feel the bite of fire and cold, the sting of poison rushing in his veins and the awe of death lingering above him with each passing second. His senses were lost in pain and his soul was already battling its way towards the light.
“our little game has come to its end” whispered the mage with no warmth in his voice and the shadow of smile curled in his lips, “there is work to be done”. Airy incantations in a cursed tongue long lost and forgotten made the ground shake and the walls vibrate
with the powers of darkness become stronger while the air got filled with the smelled of rot and decay. “Welcome to the World of Shadows.” said the mage with spite.

Time , space were lost in darkness, while the dark Sorceror finished his incantations and completed his summons. The well of shadows was filled with hate, fear, sorrow, spite and vengeance, it would consume the mind and heart of all who bathed in its spring. Nameless soldiers drugged his dead body to the well and untold demons bathed his body to its dark and unholy water. His baptism of darkness held fast for 7 nights till darkness fully consume his body and soul, till darkness win the light in his veins. Finally the eighth day had come.

In the grey and desolate land the freezing cold winds were capable of tearing both living and dead apart, the pitch black darkness was an ally only to those that could sustain in it, and an enemy to all living and life. But master and servant both stood there, amidst the winds of will and suffering, the black rain was only capable to sooth the hatred in their hearts, hatred for anything breathing, alive, even themselves.

The silent but cruel words of his master echoed in his mind.
“Rise child of Shadows”, “Face your father”. His voice was stern and flat, you could distinguish the commanding tone and the powers that were used to hold fast the hulk of a man he had across him. “What is your goal?”, “Death , havoc, fray” “Who is your enemy?” “The Light” , his voice was harsh and differed from a mans, more of beastly snarl rather than a human voice was left behind, “You will destroy her ?” The thoughts of her image came down his mind like thunder from the sky. Her blond hair and the blue eyes were an oases in the barren waste his soul strived in. “You will destroy her?” repeated the mage with a more stern tone in his voice. “With blood and steel “ he responded, and as he spoke red blooded eyes came to be seen in the pure darkness he was in. “With blood and steel my lord”.

The remnants of the warrior rode on his black iron clad stallion and with fury he lashed its mount to the chaos spreading around him. “Go now my minion, go and bring me that I was shunned.” whispered the exhausted mage while he staggered back to the shadows leaving his assassin to finish his work.