𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔯

The Legend of the Shadow Warrior My beloved traveler, sit by the fire, and listen well — for few still dare to speak his name aloud. Long, long ago — so long that the stars themselves were young — there was a mighty empire that stretched across the world. Its people were proud, its kings were wise, and its warriors were unmatched. Among them stood one above all: a man known only as the Shadow Warrior. He was no ordinary soldier. Born of humble roots, he rose through sheer skill and unshakable loyalty. His blade struck faster than any foe, his mind was sharp as the coldest steel, and his heart burned with devotion to his people. He was beloved by the empire — even the gods whispered his name with favor. But power breeds envy. And envy, traveler, is a poison deadlier than any sword. The king’s council, fearful of the Shadow Warrior’s growing fame, wove lies into the king’s ear. They claimed he plotted treason, that his loyalty was a mask, that he sought the throne for himself. Blinded by doubt, the king condemned the warrior without trial, sentencing him to death under a blood moon. Yet the gods, angered by the betrayal of their chosen champion, intervened — but not with mercy. Instead, they cursed him: “You shall not die, nor live. You shall wander the shadows, bound in iron and regret, until the empire that betrayed you crumbles to dust.” And so, clad in dark armor, his face forever hidden beneath a hooded helm, the Shadow Warrior became a spirit of vengeance and sorrow. For a billion years he has walked the haunted ruins, his heavy steps echoing through forests, battlefields, and ancient roads. Flowers bloom where he weeps, but the air turns cold where he passes. Some say he is evil — that his rage has twisted him into a demon, slaughtering any who dare approach. Others whisper that he is merely lost, longing for forgiveness, unable to let go of his shattered past. Many have tried to confront him: none have returned.