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The softening whispers of an ethereal darkness...

They echoed gravely into the depths of my haunted mind. The fabric of sanity that still remained intact only murmured fading undertones of regret. The light I once considered a companion had vanished into the rocky abyss, leaving me to venture out into a miserable world.

What more to seek than what I have already lost?

A question that I have frequently asked myself. Blankets of shadow enshroud my body, swirling in the ever-impenetrable night. They lift me upwards with ease, as I survey the bustling city beneath.

Earth, to me, had always been a curious sight. There were the peddlers that roamed the streets at night for simple profit, the drunks that shuffled away from bars through the dark alleyways, and the gamblers that gathered on the sidewalks to test their boundless luck. I watched with silent fascination.

Never had I been so close to people outside of my comfort zone. I didn't dare to get any closer. Even if I had made attempts at socializing, my appearance would have made a quick end to that. My tail swished back and forth beneath my cloak, a constant reminder of what I was. I would only fit in with my "own kind." The pedestrians below continued their daily activities, never aware of the dangers within their midst.

"Humans," I spat in disdain. Such a corrupted race.

Their time has yet to come. Until then, I shall wait. For them...

And their souls, too.

Claws, as black as the heart I so solemnly carried, shifted in rhythmic fashion, like the undulating tides of a tranquil ocean shore. I gazed emptily into my calloused paws. My hardened sight burned with empty rage, a fiery beast powered by no fuel. Each flame, distorted by the longing that pursued my mind, flickered in light malice. They would never be the same.

I pulled back my sleeve, revealing the chrome pocket watch I always carried around with me. Wherever I went, the tick-tick-tick noise never went away. It was an ominous sound, creepy even. But it was a lighthouse of familiarity in a world so strange to me. At the watch's center, where the hands of the clock twitched around a golden axle, was the imprinted image of a skull, glaring back with blood red eyes.

Only a few more seconds left.

I watched as lights spewed from the earth below, rising gently in the night air until they became twinkling stars in an area of black. Each fragment of luminosity looked somewhat powdery, almost like smoke. Yet, they emanated a shield of their own, a projection of their own life force. Nothing I could ever expect from a simple dust cloud. These spheres of white were alive and ready for harvesting.

Perfect.

The wisps of lost souls floated silently, visible only to me, suspended by a force that only I can provide. They drifted along the air in a mystical pattern, each symbolizing a message in a language that had been long forgotten. They all meant the same irritating plea:

"Help."

What a laugh. I shook my head in disdain. The spirits blazed in eerie movements but not once was I bothered. They couldn't do much if they tried. Not that they would live any longer if they had.

The cloak of darkness brought me lower, to the height of the skyscrapers that those humans so wonderfully craved. My souls gently followed right after me. My eyes shifted towards the window, my curiosity getting the better of me. Gazing onto my image, I frowned. A black-furred lupine was staring back, his verdant-green eyes glistening in the night. My reflection, how I hated it so.

I was filthy, a stereotypical characteristic of my people. My fur stuck out at various angles, unkempt in some areas while flat in others. My muzzle wore a menacing grin, snarling lips pulling back to reveal menacing teeth. Grunting in frustration, I pulled down the hood of my cloak, displaying more of my hated form-- not that it would get any prettier either-- with sharp, triangular ears jutting out from either side of my head. The moonlight danced across my ebony pelt, the coarse hairs being my only defense against the frigid night cold.

My eyes drifted slowly to my right paw, a willowy, fragile item held within its grasp. Clenched tightly within my paw pads was my most prized possession, a matching complement to my chrome pocket watch. Fashioned from the bark of the pomegranate tree, the wood creaked with age, but I paid no mind. A medium for focusing dark energies, it had a long slender base. Implanted at the pinnacle of the wooden staff, a brilliant azure-blue orb gleamed in short bursts of flashes. A mist-like substance, iridescent as the stars that lined the night sky, spun in a clockwise fashion within the tiny sphere. Without it, the staff I held within my hand would be nothing.

I twirled the rod between my fingers with precision and that sense of familiarity. All sorcerers knew that feeling, the bond between person and weapon. The greater that bond, the greater the potential one had in the subject of magic. Common sense told one to keep their medium in constant maintenance. If it snapped, it was probably not worth having becoming a sorcerer in the first place.

I won't have to worry about that.

Settling it between my paws, I caressed the sleek mid-piece, closing my eyes as my paws slid over the ancient runes that were carved deep into the rod. I remembered each exact movement of the knife I used long ago. Upwards, to the left, downwards...

With each symbol against my thick pads, I silently muttered in my tribal language.

"Menthys...Eto...Kenfe..." Darkness in Death.

The words that encompassed my life.

Those exact runes were tattooed with expert precision across my back, along with other phrases that held deep meaning to my people. My father had entrusted me with the staff and the secrets of those of the Lunari. It was the proof of the bond that we shared and the building trust between father and son.

Generation to generation, this staff was passed down as a family tradition. From far away, it gave the impression of a harmless device, barely able to make a dent in the softest of metals. Yet, it is far more significant.

Although centuries old, the wooden rod glinted with a gleam that only the best craft smiths were able to perform. The souls of thousands were trapped within the staff, imprisoned in a forever-motionless state to serve their millennium sentence. How morbid.

My thoughts eventually settled with my life at home. I sighed sadly. With just a flick of my wrist, I can make any of my subjects flinch in fear. Anyone who showed the slightest disrespect could be banished to a dimension worse than Hell itself. Alas, members of my own tribe distanced themselves from me; less they suffer several eternities of pain.

My staff...

It was a symbol of power, the devastation I was capable of but not intending to use, a power that only few could wield. But it was also a curse, to live my life without communicating to those outside of the royal family.

From birth, my purpose had already been decided. It was against my father's wishes, pleading in my stead. Rather, the decision was made by his war tacticians and strategists. He refused of me having any part of it but the Council had already made the vote. My father's status was meaningless. The moment I could walk, I would be forced to undergo rigorously training, in preparation of the role I would serve.

I would be transformed... into the first living Lunari weapon.

An assassin against our dreaded enemies, the Solaris tribe...

The spirits encircling my body spun wildly but not once touching me. They swerved off into arbitrary directions, but a mystical barrier prevented them from escaping any further. I smirked. So they were finally finding out.

I am not a mere human, spending my useless life in the dark utopia below. Nor am I the average Lunarian wolf that frequented my world. Neither am I a Solari, our hated enemies.

No.

I was Arketh Varen, the Prince of Darkness, a wolf of true royal blood, and the only son to King Varen, Death himself.

With a sneer, I extended my paw, reaching out into the distance. They knew. The souls of the departed knew my secret. And for that, they must perish.

I could feel the power coursing through my fingertips, manifesting into reality. At first, it was a slight disturbance, a pulse barely noticeable to most mortals. But I'm not any mere mortal. With each second that passed, the compressed air surged outwards with greater strength. The energy concentrated in the area in front of me, swirling with unprecedented amounts of strength. All spirits that were soaring lifelessly in the air came to a halt, their forbidden dance interrupted.

Their fate was sealed.

My arm shook in slight spasms, still outstretched. A void was opening into the distance, imperceptible to human eyes. One by one, the vacuum enlarged, appearing as a hole in an otherwise black background. It consumed each white ember, the souls moaning with the feeling of abandonment. I didn't feel a single pang of guilt.

The sound resonated in the night air, gaining volume. I sensed the screams of agony behind that door of Hell that I had opened up. That only made my grin grow wider. When the last ember had vanished into Oblivion's hands, the darkness surrounded me once more and the noise subsided. Even the wind that gusted regularly above the metropolis had died down to a barely audible whine. And soon...

All was silent.

This was the power that the Lunari had given me to counteract the light-embedded weapons and magic of the Solari. Sunlight is our weakness as darkness is theirs. Although direct contact does not harm us physically, exposure to the opposite element disables the victim's powers automatically. They return with time, but just a few seconds is all that is needed to slit the throat of an opponent. I was no different. The nightlife of humans was almost second nature to me. But in the daytime, humans were still a mystery in my mind.

It couldn't be that different, could they?

Humans were feared by both tribes and with well enough reason, too. That was why I was created. My childhood was tormented with the low whispers of "monster" and "demon" behind my back. And if I cried, our military leader would punish me for showing signs of weakness. To him, I was no longer a living person--not even a wolf at all--but just a tool, a disposable knife in his army of demons. I may have been the best the Lunari had to offer, but I was not that much better than a pawn in a paradoxical chess game.

I turned around, feeling the urge to go home. Gripping my staff with both hands, I took in a deep breath. Teleportation always required a large amount of energy; this time wouldn't be any less different.

"Evit... Ato... Yeron...Soden."

I chanted the words softly, beginning the ancient incantation. The archaic runes beneath my claw tips began to glow brightly, humming a dim buzz. Before me, the symbols left the wooden base, the energy still radiating as images in the air. Almost by instinct, I recited the next few lines committed to memory.

"Laie... Zevik...Ieso."

The images burned brightly, spinning rapidly around me. The spell was working like it should. I could feel the surrounding matter disperse, breaking apart. My eyes drifted downwards. Dust gathered around my feet, trapping me in a continuously moving pillar of sand. A breeze picked up in the suddenly disturbed night air, the turbulent winds surrounding my body in a whirlwind of nature's power. My eyelids gradually closed shut as I finished stating the final words.

"Eto...Aken...Savin...Kut."

At last, I could feel the shift in my body, a faint sensation of numbness and paralysis. The world became immersed into shadow, a cold, desolate darkness that I was well accustomed to. I waited as it eventually subsided and feeling was restored back into my limbs. When my eyes opened, I had finally arrived in my room. My father would be worried about my random disappearances, becoming more frequent as of late. Yet, I would discuss matters with him later. Already, I had become tired.

In my mind, the slight pang of guilt of leaving my father alienated from my own personal thoughts began to eat away at my own conscience. As much as I despised the Council for ruining my chance of socialization, my father had always been a true friend and confidant in my times of need. The black wolf never judged and never argued but listened to me whenever the need arose. His quickness to accept the fact that I hated my life as a Lunarian warrior and the pride that he showed when I admitted it to him in the first place brought the greatest amount of happiness I had ever experienced in a while.

I would tell him of my troubles when morrow comes, as the desire for rest was becoming a hampering force in my train of thought. Lifting the sheets, I jumped into bed eagerly. My tail curled around my leg for warmth as sleep was slowly arriving.

I fell asleep that night, the sky dotted with the light of thousands of tiny diamonds. When I awake, I knew what I would see, my arms wrapped around my pillow in comfort, my muzzle buried into the soft confines of the compressible cushion, and my tears drying on the linen mattress. I would awake, a cold chill blowing through my nearby window, and reminding me of the familiar feeling that plagued my terrible existence, a nagging emotion that never ceased to bother me each breathing moment.

I felt so alone. And there was nothing I could do about it.