The night grew colder, as if the wind itself had been corrupted by the darkness that had settled over Royce. He could feel the weight of the city pressing against his chest, every breath thick and suffocating, as if the very air was rotting with secrets and blood spilled too long ago.
The cloaked figure stood motionless, its presence now an unshakable weight in the air. Royce's outstretched hand trembled, not from cold, but from the realization that there was no turning back. He had made his choice, and in doing so, he had opened a door that could never be closed.
A rasping voice, older than time itself, slithered through the rain-soaked air. It was the figure's voice, not spoken aloud but felt deep within Royce's bones, as though it reverberated through the very marrow of his existence.
> "You chose this. You are bound, now, to a fate far darker than death itself."
Royce's heart hammered in his chest, his pulse echoing in his ears like a war drum. He forced himself to swallow, his throat raw, his mouth dry with a thirst that felt like poison. He had no idea what he had just signed up for. He only knew that in the vast emptiness of his life, this was the only thing that had ever made him feel alive.
The figure took a single, slow step forward, the sound of its boots crunching against the broken ground sending shivers down Royce's spine. It was no longer human, nor could it ever have been. The figure was an entity, an ancient force wrapped in tattered cloth, a being that existed in the space between what was and what could never be.
> "The city will recognize you now," the figure continued. "Its shadows will follow you. Its hunger will seek you. And you will serve, one way or another. Every debt must be paid."
Royce's mind raced, desperately seeking any trace of hope, but found only the sharp sting of truth cutting through his thoughts. He had already given everything. His family. His future. His love. Now, he was nothing more than a pawn, lost in a game that had no rules, no mercy.
The figure reached out with skeletal fingers, brushing them lightly against Royce's forehead. The touch was cold, colder than death itself, sending a jolt of pure terror through him.
> "But not all who serve are lost," the figure murmured. "Some are reborn, in fire and blood. You, Royce Veldon, have the chance to ascend, to become more than a shadow of what you were."
Royce's eyes widened, confusion clouding his thoughts. "Ascend?" he whispered, barely able to speak. "How?"
The figure's face remained hidden beneath its hood, but Royce felt its eyes — cold, empty, and piercing — drilling into his very soul.
> "You will learn," the figure intoned, "but first, you must prove your worth. The city has long forgotten you, but soon, it will remember. And you will be tested."
Before Royce could respond, the figure's voice grew louder, a chorus of whispers rising from the depths of the earth.
> "The price of shadows is steep, Royce. It will cost you your humanity. It will cost you the very essence of who you were before."
The ground beneath Royce's knees seemed to shift, as though the city itself was alive, writhing in anticipation. The blood that had been spilled here, the lives that had been crushed beneath its unyielding weight, had left their mark on everything. Royce could feel it, the anger, the pain, the regret that lingered in the air.
The figure stepped back, its cloak swirling like smoke in the wind. The rain grew heavier, falling in sheets that blurred the world around him, drowning the streets in a sea of black water.
> "Time moves differently now," the figure said, its voice fading into the storm. "You will return to the city, but it will not be as you remember. The world will change, and you with it. You have been chosen, Royce Veldon. But remember this..."
There was a pause, and Royce's breath caught in his throat. The figure's final words sliced through the air, final and unforgiving.
> "Nothing comes without a cost. And the price... is always more than you can pay."
The figure was gone before Royce could ask another question, swallowed by the endless night, leaving behind only the bitter scent of rain and regret.
Royce stood alone in the ruins, his heart still beating, but his soul already slipping away into the shadows. He had no idea what was coming, no idea what the city — what the world — had in store for him. But one thing was certain: his life would never be the same. He was no longer a boy. He was no longer a prince.
He was a servant of the dark.
And his journey into the abyss had just begun.
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