Shadow Slave

Somewhere far away, in the depths of a Nightmare...

A vast city sprawled under a starlit sky, caressed by the murmuring waves of a generous sea. A great river cut across it, its waters deep and full.

The city had been thriving and prosperous once, with tall walls that brimmed with colorful flags. Its streets had been lively and vibrant during the day, with crowds of people from all corners of existence busy pursuing profit and the joys of life.

At night, the streets had been illuminated by countless lanterns, their warm light keeping the darkness at bay. Sounds of music and laughter filled the air as both the inhabitants of the city and its guests enjoyed the gifts of abundance.

Its harbor had teemed with myriad ships, thousands of sailors and dock workers hurrying to load and unload precious cargo. Above the harbor, a beautiful lighthouse carved of white stone shone with radiant light, and at the heart of the city, an ivory palace stood, warm radiance spilling through its arched windows.

That beautiful city was different now.

Its tall walls were cracked and covered in soot, mountains of corpses and charred remains of siege towers piling beneath them. The streets were mostly empty, with only echoing wails and quiet sobs breaking the fearful silence. Countless homes had been crushed or burned to the ground, their black bones shrouded by mournful shadows. The harbor was blocked by a ring of sunken wrecks, dead bodies floating in the water, bloated and rotting. The lighthouse lay broken, its ruins still spouting pillars of smoke. The beautiful palace stood dark, with barely any light burning within it.

The city was swallowed by fear and darkness, its people hiding in their homes and seeking shelter from the nightmarish reality of their lives in the embrace of mundane nightmares. There was only one spot in the city that was brightly illuminated.

On a vast plaza in front of the tightly shut city gates, myriad corpses were piled high, forming a macabre hill. That hill was burning, a towering flame devouring it and spewing a thick pillar of black smoke into the lightless sky.

The stench of burning flesh was unbearable.

In front of the morbid pyre, a tall woman in battered armor stood watching the flames. The lower part of her face was hidden behind a cloth mask, which was meant to block out the stench, and one of her arms hung in a makeshift sling, terribly mangled. Her graceful and athletic figure was covered in dried blood, but still emanated a mesmerizing, irresistible sense of allure. The soldiers unloading fresh corpses into the fire kept stealing glances at her from time to time, their eyes full of reverence and burning with primal desire.

The woman paid them no heed.

Soon, a disheveled man wearing tattered lamellar armor the color of midnight sky approached, his green eyes full of somber exhaustion. He looked at the pyre in silence for a short while, then pulled down the cloth covering the lower part of his face and spoke:

“Our losses this time were minor.”

The woman lingered for a bit, then answered in an even tone:

”Minor... yeah.”

They were Effie and Kai, of course.

More than a year ago, they had entered the Nightmare and found themselves in the vicinity of this city — one of the largest and most prosperous cities of its era, a jewel of the Age of Heroes.

The city was not a part of any Domain, and was instead a Domain in and of itself, ruled by an elderly Supreme and his descendants. That Supreme, known as the Mason, did not possess a lot of combat power — however, what he did possess was a Utility Aspect that had allowed his people to prosper and thrive.

Known for its exquisite craftsmanship and hospitality, his city had become a cultural and commercial hub for many mortal realms. Ships carrying goods from various Domains and civilizations arrived here to trade and enjoy the vibrant culture, and since the Mason was known for his peaceful ways and neutrality, the city had weathered countless conflicts between other Supremes unscathed.

Its value as neutral ground was simply too great to put at risk — and on top of that, even though the Mason did not rule a powerful army, the city itself was under his protection, making its walls all but impregnable.

As for how these ships traveled between realms — the answer was actually quite simple.

Ancient people were not much different from modern humanity in that regard. Mundane people and Awakened had little chance to cross a realm boundary, while Ascended could travel to other realms with some effort. Saints could carry other people with them, and Supremes could open Gates to other realms.

The difference was that the ancient people were far more familiar with traveling across realms, and had developed means of making crossing the boundaries between them far easier.

There were runic enchantments that allowed them to create stable crossing paths, so as long as there was a Transcendent envoy knowledgeable in sorcery and a Supreme willing to provide the precious resources needed to conduct the ritual, artificial Gates could be established between two realms, allowing even mundane people to travel from one to another.

Not all realms were ruled by Supremes, and most of them did not possess artificial Gates. Still, the existence of these Gates dictated the cultural and commercial exchange between mortals.

...And naturally, it dictated the nature of wars between the realms as well.

Ever since the first human kingdom fell, and its ruler — the mad Kanakht — was sealed, no single Supreme had managed to amass that much power and influence. For most of the following Age of Heroes, humans were too preoccupied with fighting against the Corrupted to aim their weapons at each other. But as humanity spread and powerful Supremes emerged, the situation slowly changed.

At the dusk of the Age of Heroes, for a while, Realm Wars became a frequent occasion. Every time a new champion rose to the throne of Supremacy, they would launch a campaign to carve out a Domain for themselves, upsetting the balance of power. Supremes were not born often, though, and even those who emerged once every few centuries settled after conquering a handful of realms.

Things changed when the newest Supreme was born, though.

Because that Supreme — the core of the Nightmare Effie and Kai faced — was not satisfied with conquering only a few realms. He wanted to conquer all of them.

His name was Azarax, the Plague of Steel... And if Effie and Kai wanted to survive the Nightmare, they had to defeat him.