In the Forgotten Mountains, jagged peaks rose into dark skies filled with storm clouds. Deep among them stood the ruins of the Ebon Temple, half buried and silent. Long ago, it had been a place of power. Now, it was little more than broken stone.
Vines wrapped around shattered columns, pulling them apart over time. Wind moved through the broken walls, carrying faint whispers that had long been forgotten.
Far beneath the surface, past collapsed halls and doors carved with worn runes, something moved.
Xander Blackthorn woke.
His eyes opened, dark and empty, swallowing the weak light that slipped through cracks in the ceiling. Shadows pulled away from his body as the spell holding him finally loosened.
Breathing felt heavy, as though the darkness itself resisted his return.
Centuries had passed since he last walked the world. Just as many had passed since he sealed himself away rather than unleash the power growing inside him.
He felt it now.
The presence was restless and hungry, pressing against the barriers he had built within his soul.
The world above was no longer the one he remembered. He sensed it in the air. Smoke. Chaos. War. Empires had fallen, and new conflicts had taken their place. The balance that once held everything together had broken long ago.
Xander's fingers tightened against the cold stone floor.
It was time to rise.
He stood, his form pulling together as shadows moved around him like living things. He was tall and imposing, with pale skin and dark hair. Power clung to him, held tightly under control.
His cloak formed next, shaping itself from shadow and settling over his shoulders. Runes along its surface glowed faintly as energy flowed through them.
As he stretched, the stone beneath his feet groaned. Cracks spread across the chamber as ancient seals failed and broke apart.
"What madness has taken the world in my absence?" he said quietly.
His voice echoed through the empty chamber.
Memories stirred. The Great Betrayal. Allies he once trusted had turned against him. Mortals, gods, and demons had stood together, afraid of what he was becoming.
They had sealed him away to stop his rise, though not before he tore their essences from them. That act bound him to endless life and left a slow strain on his mind.
Now the seal was gone, weakened by time and worn down by the wars meant to protect the world.
Xander stepped out of the chamber and began climbing the temple's broken stairs toward the surface.
Bones covered the halls, remains of those who had come seeking power and found death instead. He did not look at them.
His senses reached outward instead, stretching beyond the ruins and into the world above.
The world was falling apart.
To the north, divine armies fought demonic forces, their battles shaking the land. Mortals hid behind stone walls and desperate prayers, trapped between powers that barely noticed them. Gods ruled through fear and demanded obedience. Demons destroyed for amusement. Humans struggled to survive between them, forming weak alliances that collapsed under pressure.
A faint smirk crossed Xander's face.
"How predictable," he said. "They destroy each other without me."
He stepped from the temple's entrance, hiding his presence beneath layers of illusion. Dawn rose over the mountains, casting light across the damaged land.
Trees stood burned and broken. Stone was torn apart by magic. Somewhere below, steel struck steel in distant fighting.
Xander stopped.
Footsteps approached. Armored and controlled.
Voices followed, sharp with command.
"Search every part of the ruins," someone ordered. "The oracle sensed ancient power here. If we claim it for the Empire, those god worshippers will not stand a chance."
Xander's eyes darkened.
Mortals had dared to enter his domain.
His body faded into shadow, blending into mist and stone. He became still, hidden within the mountainside, waiting as the soldiers moved closer.
The band of invaders crested the ridge. Two dozen soldiers wore imperial armor marked with the eagle of the Solarian Empire.
Their leader, a hardened captain with a long scar across his cheek, studied the ruins with clear interest.
"Spread out," he ordered. "Search everything."
The soldiers moved across the temple grounds, pushing aside rubble and forcing open sealed doors worn smooth by time.
One of them, a young recruit whose hands shook inside his armor, stopped near a patch of burned stone.
"Captain," he called. "There is something here. It is glowing."
The captain walked over, his sword sliding free from its sheath. A faint rune pulsed beneath the dirt, its light uneven.
"Ancient magic," the captain said. "This must be what the oracle sensed. Dig it up."
From the shadows, Xander watched. Amusement stirred behind his eyes. They were like children reaching toward a fire, unaware of what waited beneath the surface.
The presence inside him shifted, restless and hungry after centuries of restraint.
His patience ended.
With a single thought, he released the darkness.
Shadows erupted from the ground, surging upward like living shapes. They wrapped around legs and bodies, tightening with crushing force.
Screams filled the air as soldiers were dragged off their feet and pulled toward the stone.
The captain slashed at the shadows, cutting through one only for more to take its place.
"What kind of sorcery is this?" he shouted. "Hold the line. Do not break."
But the ground itself had turned against them.
Xander stepped into view, his form rising from the darkness. Shadows clung to him as his gaze settled on the soldiers.
"You stand in a place long forgotten," he said. "For that, you will pay."
Fear spread through the ranks before turning into panic. Arrows flew toward him in a scattered volley.
Xander raised one hand.
The arrows broke apart in the air, fading into smoke before reaching him.
He lowered his hand and spread his fingers.
The darkness responded.
Shadows surged forward, slipping through armor with ease and tearing through bodies. Soldiers fell as their strength vanished, their forms collapsing where they stood.
Xander felt each stolen essence flow into him, brief and warm before fading.
A heavy-built warrior charged through the chaos, lifting an axe overhead. He swung with a shout driven by fear.
Xander stepped aside and caught the man by the throat.
"Your essence," he said calmly, "is weak."
The warrior struggled, then slowed as his strength drained away. His body withered in Xander's grasp.
Xander drew the soul free and absorbed it, dark energy flowing through him and sealing the last traces of weakness left by his long rest.
The body fell to the ground.
Only the captain remained.
He stumbled backward, his face pale and his sword shaking in his hands.
"Who are you?" he asked.
Xander tilted his head. Shadows moved behind him as a sharp smile appeared.
"I am Xander Blackthorn," he said. "I bow to no god, no demon, and no mortal."
His gaze locked onto the captain.
"You are nothing more than fuel."
With a small motion, shadows rose and wrapped around the captain, lifting him into the air. The man screamed as his soul was torn free, glowing briefly before Xander crushed it in his hand.
What was left of the captain fell lifeless to the stone.
Silence returned to the mountains, broken only by the wind moving through the ruined stone. Xander flexed his fingers as strength flowed back into him.
Vitality moved through his body, steady and powerful. Along with it came fragments of knowledge taken from the souls he had claimed.
The Solarian Empire was advancing, its borders expanding through conquest and prophecy. The Divine Coalition waged wars in the name of order.
Beneath them both, the Demonic Underrealms stirred with rebellion and conflict.
The world was divided and ready to break.
Perfect.
Xander turned to leave the mountain when a sudden pressure brushed against his senses. Power rose from the east, demonic in nature and filled with fury and need. It was rough and uncontrolled.
It was not a threat.
It was a call.
Something was reaching into the darkness, whether by choice or instinct.
Xander smiled. It was the first true smile he had shown in centuries.
"Perhaps this world can still surprise me."
Shadows gathered at his feet as he moved toward the distant presence, leaving the ruins of the Ebon Temple behind.
He did not yet know that this surge of power marked the beginning of something far greater, nor that it would one day force even a dark lord to rethink what it meant to kneel.