Curse Of The Shadow Dragon Novels & Stories

Lucien is waiting. A shadow lunges at me, its claws slashing through the air. I dodge, narrowly avoiding the strike, and retaliate with a swift blow. The creature crumples, its form dissipating into nothingness. But there are more. So many more. I feel the pull of the curse deep within me, a dark force clawing at the edges of my mind. It seeks to weaken me, to remind me of my powerlessness, but I won’t let it. I can’t.

The Nightshade Essence may have saved Magnus this time, but it would be useless against the curse Draven was about to unleash. As Draven began to chant the incantation, the cave darkened, and the temperature plummeted. Shadows writhed and twisted around him, drawn to the malevolent energy that pulsed through the air. The very ground seemed to tremble as Draven’s voice grew louder, resonating with ancient power. He could feel the curse taking shape, its tendrils of darkness spreading outward, ready to consume everything in its path. The spell would not just kill—it would destroy the very essence of Magnus and his lineage, ensuring that no one would ever remember their names.

Prologue The wind howled like something dying. It tore down the jagged slopes of the Senkte Mountains, carrying ash and frost in equal measure, rattling the iron torches that lined the narrow path. High above the world below, where the air thinned and the land itself seemed to recoil, the Daywalker Castle loomed. It did not belong in this realm. Black stone walls rose from the mountain’s spine like broken teeth, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly beneath the surface—as if the castle itself breathed. Silver-veined banners snapped violently in the wind, each bearing the same crescent symbol split clean down the middle.

I pointed to a diagram of a man surrounded by a towering, monstrous silhouette. "It’s not a curse, Kaelen. Not exactly. It’s a Symbiotic Anchor. The First Duke of Thorne didn't just conquer the North; he made a pact with the spirits of the frost to protect the border. The shadow is a guardian, but it requires a 'tether' of human emotion to remain stable. If the Duke’s heart becomes hollow through grief, rage, or betrayal, the shadow consumes the man to feed itself." Kaelen’s hand moved to his chest. "My father. He didn't go mad... he became hollow."

Soldiers screamed as they stumbled backward. Another claw appeared. Then another. Slowly, an enormous creature climbed from the darkness below. Its body was covered in black scales. Its eyes burned like molten gold. Massive wings unfolded behind it, filling nearly half the sanctuary. The beast let out a deafening roar that shook the ancient ruins. Even General Varis looked terrified. "I... I didn't summon that." Kael stepped in front of Liana once more. His expression had never been more serious. "The Shadow Dragon..."

“If he gets caught in the fallout… oh well.” They leaned closer to the circle, shadows pooling around them like dark water. Elara whispered an incantation, her voice low, musical, dangerous: “Korrvak nesh taloum… grahnak velmuirch. Os’hallonn. Drevuuk.” The shadow ink twitched, smoke curling against the salt, forming itself slowly into a shape—impossibly detailed, unnervingly alive. Then it solidified, hollow-eyed and grinning: a raven’s skull, the bones black as obsidian, the eye sockets gleaming with unseen fire.

But another part — the part that still remembered who she was before all of this — screamed for her to fight. She took a step back. “You want me to be your queen? Then prove you deserve me.” The shadow blinked, startled. Then it smiled, wicked and sharp. “Very well.” With a snap of its fingers, the night exploded. The ruins shook, stones cracking, the ground splitting as dozens of shadow-creatures erupted from the earth — wolves made of smoke and gold-eyed beasts with claws like sickles. The shadow’s voice rang out like thunder. “Survive until moonset, and we will speak again. Fail—”

“Oh yes. And I also dare to interrupt your evil little tantrum ritual! No more cursing the Shadow Luna. Big no no.” I lunged for her. She flicked her tiny fingers. The ritual snapped. The glyph exploded in blinding white light. The shadows didn’t shoot toward the bowl. They didn’t shoot toward Emara. They shot toward me. “NO!” I screamed, stumbling back, clawing at the air, trying to break the magic as the curse turned inward. “NO NO NO” The shadows hit me like a tidal wave. Cold, endless, and fucking merciless. My scream cracked into something monstrous. Pain tore through every bone.

“They are extinct but during the time of their reign, they shared a sworn enemy. A prehistoric being known as a malevolent curse, or rather, a shadow who wore black.” Complete silence reigned for a short while. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, this was the closest I had gotten to finding out about the shadow. That mad man was actually a genius! “So,” Bach started, “What you’re saying is that, to defeat that thing, we’ll need to find a more than century old specie that was wiped out by our ancestors?” “Not exactly,” I replied, “We just need to find out more about the specie themselves. If we do then we can stand a chance in this fight.”

Murmuring. A shadow emerged from the shattered stones, coalescing like smoke into a corporeal form. It took shape as a figure—tall, cloaked, and devoid of a face. Its voice slithered through the courtyard. "Daughter of the cursed moon." Ember tensed. Kai pushed her behind him, his claws partially formed. "Reveal your identity!" The shadow chuckled. "You seek a name from that which was never intended to exist?" Lysandra lifted her staff. The atmosphere around her crackled with energy. "This power… it predates the Temple."