Curse Of The Shadow Dragon Novels & Stories

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."

Other towers displayed the power of their occupants through equally ostentatious magical signatures: the golden embers of House Holt, where fire was distilled to its purest form; the swirling mists of House Sereth, where air entwined with morning dew to create ever-shifting architectural wonders; the writhing shadows of the notorious House Nox, where darkness became solid enough to support their twisted, impossibly angled fortress. House Nox. Even among the nobility, they were feared. Their shadow magic—specifically the rare dusk affinity, where shadows blended with the essence of twilight—allowed them to slip between realms of light and dark. Rumors claimed their current lord, Elaric Nox, w

Her scream tore from her throat, but it was too late—Joel had already stepped into the maelstrom. The curse erupted, a tidal wave of blackness bursting free of her body. The air shrieked, alive with something not of this world. The shadow—her reflection, her curse given form—towered over them both, its laughter sharp and broken. “You think you can protect her?” it sneered, turning its blazing gaze on Joel. “Fool. She was mine before she ever knew your name.” Joel drew his sword, its blade trembling in the stormlight. He planted his feet in the soaked earth, his voice a growl of defiance.

The same feeling I had when I jumped into the flames that raged around Diana’s body. I froze in those flames like the shadow of the thorns, who could only see their rose burn, but do nothing to put off the fire. By the time the fire was put off, even the shadow of the thorny vines was nothing but a puddle of blood mixed with ashes. Wrecked, but somehow alive. The body was gone, but the shadow still existed with no life, separated from its source. The greatest wizards have said — the worst of the worst could be the shadow being torn apart from its body and the most ominous curse that could ever befall on the world would be when that shadow starts thinking on its own.