Shadows Over Arcadia

I am Shadow, less than a day old, and I am a shard of Prince Ren Drakemore's soul placed inside of a wooden puppet masquerading as an adventurer.

I set off on my first quest as an E-rank adventurer to kill some wolves that have been killing livestock on Lord Griswald's Lands. It should be a piece of cake, a quick chance to build my reputation with the guild.

Before leaving, I slip into the castle stables and "borrow" a sleek, all-black stallion. According to the sign hanging over his stall, his name is Phantom.

It seems like destiny. Shadow and Phantom, partners in crime.

We ride north at a gallop, the sinking sun casting long shadows across our path. The last embers of light reveal dark, menacing clouds rolling in behind us as if in pursuit. By the time I reach the forest's edge where the attacks have taken place, night has fallen and the storm has caught up. A steady wind sweeps through the trees, with the promise of heavy rain.

The cloak of night drapes over the land, the tree line marking the divide between farmland and the edge of the Erwin Forest. Brooding clouds blot out the moon and stars, deepening the darkness.

Seated atop Phantom, I check the map provided by the guild to confirm I am in the right place. A faint light spell flares to life in my hand, guiding me as I follow the trail toward the forest. Before stepping under the canopy, I tie Phantom to a gnarled old tree at the path's entrance. I pat his neck. "I'll be right back. Stay here."

Shadows stretch long and thin, twisting around me as I cross beneath the trees. The forest feels alive. Every snap of a twig and rustle of leaves echoes louder than it should, as if the night itself is watching me. The darkness presses close, cutting me off from the world beyond the trees, and I press on, scanning the ground for any sign of wolves.

A soft drizzle builds into steady rain, turning the ground beneath my feet into a slick, muddy mess. As I push deeper into the forest, I wonder if all woods at night feel this eerie. The thought barely crosses my mind before a sudden weight slams into me from the side.

The attack comes without warning. Before I can reach for my sword, something large and furred clamps down on my right arm and drags me to the ground with crushing force. Mud sprays as I fall, the rough wood of my puppet body grinding against teeth and claws. The massive wolf thrashes, and in an instant my arm splinters, ripping from my body with a sickening crack.

For a moment, my mind blanks, the giant wolf still biting and clawing at my chest. Then panic floods in as I watch its fearsome jaws rip my armored chest plate away, crushing it. I regain my senses and kick hard with both feet, throwing the wolf off me and crashing into a thick tree trunk. I cast a barrier to fend off a second wolf lunging from the left, but my fractured concentration leaves openings. More wolves rush forward, snarling, eyes gleaming in the dark, ripping at my cloak and clawing deep into the wooden frame of my body.

In desperation, I hurl Fire Lance spells from the ground, each one a blazing streak of destruction. One, two, three wolves are struck, their bodies hurled backward as fiery bolts tear through them, leaving gaping, charred wounds. Their lifeless forms slam into the ground with sickening thuds. I continue casting in rapid succession, each spell roaring into the darkness. Some strike true, while others miss, shattering trees and sending them crashing down around me. The relentless barrage drains me quickly, and I can feel my mana reserves dwindling.

I need to get off the ground!

I summon a wall of fire, the flames roaring to life as they encircle me. The searing heat drives the wolves back, buying me just enough time to rise and seize my sword with my remaining hand. I cannot rely on magic alone. At this rate, my mana is going to run out. If it does, my enchantment will end, leaving this puppet to collapse uselessly.

The wolves circle, their snarls echoing in the dark as the fire around me sputters and fades. With the flames dying, they slip back into the shadows, their bloodthirsty maws just out of sight. I may not be able to see them now, but I can hear them. Low growls rumble from the dark, joined by the scrape of claws against wet earth.

Then, they pounce.

I grip my sword tightly and slash at where I think the nearest wolf is. The blade connects, slicing through fur and bone with a sickening crunch, blood spraying into the rain. The others keep coming, claws tearing into me from every side, jaws snapping at my wooden frame.

I swing wildly, striking true only occasionally, my blade often meeting empty air. The pack is unrelenting, ripping me apart piece by piece. One sinks its teeth into the side of my head, shattering part of my mask and ripping out my right crystal eye. My vision halves. I drive my sword into its neck, a torrent of blood spilling over me as I wrench it free. The beast collapses at my feet, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

I keep fighting, hacking and slashing, each strike more desperate than the last. Panic overtakes precision, my swings turning frantic. In the chaos, another wolf lunges and clamps its jaws around my hand. With a violent shake, it tears the sword free. The blade lands in the mud with a dull thud, far out of reach.

My sword! And I don't have mana for another spell. I'm screwed!

Desperation takes hold. With nothing else to turn to, I seize my severed arm and grip it tight. I swing with all my strength, battering the last wolf again and again until it crumples at my feet.

Finally, silence falls. The forest is still once more, broken only by the faint hiss of dying flames as the rain smothers what remains of the fire. Around me lie the broken bodies of the wolves, their blood mixing with the mud.

I stand, battered and broken, my limbs splintered, and my mask barely holding together. But it's over.

This puppet body doesn't feel pain, yet the sight of my shattered limbs, fractured chest, and ruined faceplate fills me with a grim sense of weariness. I have to get back to the tower. Gathering my severed arm, I stagger through the muck, retracing my steps out of the forest.

When I reach the edge of the trail, my heart sinks. Phantom lies lifeless, his body reduced to a bloody, mangled corpse, still tied to the tree. His guts spill onto the ground, likely torn apart by the same beasts I just fought. I stare for a moment, then force myself to move. There's no time to hesitate. With my ride gone, I limp toward the capital on foot.

Sorry Phantom, you deserved better than that.

The rain pours without mercy, each drop cold and heavy, but it doesn't slow me down. Thanks to my inability to feel pain or tire, I make steady progress without rest. The trip takes all night and into the morning. By some stroke of luck, the storm's fierce rain and wind keep the streets deserted, allowing me to slip unnoticed toward the castle's hidden passage.

At last, I stumble into the sanctuary of the tower basement. The creaking of my shattered body is masked by the steady rumble of thunder outside. I am safe, for now, though I hardly feel victorious. All I want is to end my nightmare by returning to Ren.

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Then it'll be his problem.

I ascend the stairs slowly, the corridor lit in sudden bursts as lightning splits the sky. Each flash throws the walls and ceiling into stark relief before plunging everything back into darkness. I push open the bedroom door and stagger inside. The real Ren lies peacefully on the bed, oblivious to the ordeal his puppet self has endured.

I can barely hold myself up right now, my mana near empty, but with the last dregs of power, I make sure to return to Ren. I stand in the doorway to his room, tattered, missing an arm, cloak shredded, my mask cracked and exposing a single remaining glowing crystal eye. Lightning flares again behind me, casting my broken form as a monstrous silhouette. I almost pity him for what he's about to experience.

Then, with the final spark of energy, I let go and drift into nothing. My consciousness and memories return to Ren.

In an instant, my consciousness fuses with Ren, and I feel the overwhelming flood of memories crash into me. I see myself, no, Shadow's body, crumpled in the doorway to my room, its severed arm lying beside it. The images of the dark forest take over my vision, blotting out the safety of my room, replaced by the shadow's memories, surrounded by snapping jaws and gleaming eyes.

I relive every agonizing second. The wolves tearing into my arm. The beast that ripped out my eye. I can feel the splintering of wood, the violent shakes as I was thrown to the ground. The crushing weight of the bodies pinning me down. My screams echo in the room as I clutch my arm and head, trying to shield wounds that are not there.

The puppet felt nothing. Shadow had no nerves for pain, no surge of adrenaline to answer fear. But once the memories transfer, all of that anguish, the terror, the raw panic, and the trauma, are mine to bear. My mind sears, burning the nightmare into my thoughts. I thrash against the sheets, flailing like I'm still in that forest, still fighting for my life.

Finally, the memory transfer subsides. The forest fades, and I return to my bed, drenched in sweat, gasping for air. My chest heaves as though I've just run for miles instead of lying here. I stare blankly at the ceiling, my hands trembling while fragmented images replay behind my eyes. The snarls. The blood. Phantom's mangled body. The failure. The helplessness.

Morning comes, but I can't bring myself to move. I stay frozen under the covers, wide awake, eyes fixed on Shadow's ruined form across the room. His body lies broken, each splintered limb and deep claw mark a haunting reminder of my failure. How foolish I had been to think Shadow was ready. I had no idea how dangerous even ordinary wolves could be, or how unprepared I truly was.

The door creaks open, and Lady Willow enters. She takes a moment to assess me before gracefully crossing the room to sit at the edge of my bed.

"Rough night, Ren?" she asks softly, holding her arms open for a hug.

I don't respond. I can't. I don't know how to explain the fear gripping me, the shame that weighs me down. Without thinking, I crawl from the sheets into her waiting arms, the tears finally breaking free. I sob quietly against her chest, the pain of failure too heavy to hold alone.

Willow strokes my back gently, whispering soothing words until, somehow, exhaustion drags me into sleep.

When I next wake, the light filtering through my window tells me it's midday. I'm still tucked into bed, the scent of lavender lingering from Willow's presence. She returns moments later, her serene expression calm as ever.

"Master Ren," she says with a gentle smile, "I know last night was hard, but you cannot stay in bed forever. Come have some lunch."

Reluctantly, I force myself to climb out of bed. My legs feel weak, but she is right. I do not have the luxury of wallowing. Shadow is broken. No, I am broken—and I need to fix us both.

With a levitation spell, I carry Shadow's battered body down to my workshop. As I lay his damaged frame across the workbench, the sight fills me with frustration. Wood. I had made him out of wood. Weak, fragile, breakable. Why had I chosen such a poor material? Convenience? Familiarity? I curse my own short-sightedness. I won't make the same mistake again.

Willow appears beside me, placing a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water on the workbench. "Don't forget to eat," she says gently before leaving me to my work.

For days, I throw myself into rebuilding Shadow, channeling every ounce of my magic and focus into reforging him stronger. Steel. This time, I shape steel. Harder, heavier, resilient enough to endure. Each joint, each plate is carefully reinforced, polished, and carved with purpose. No more fragile wood. No more weakness.

But durability alone isn't enough. The wolves taught me several other lessons as well. Awareness had failed me too. I couldn't rely on sight alone in the dark where my enemies thrive. I asked Lady Willow for guidance, and she introduced me to two enchantments—Night Vision and Threat Detection. Night Vision would allow Shadow to see clearly in complete darkness. Threat Detection would keep him alert to hostile presences, even those hidden from view.

Embedding these enchantments is painstaking work, the spellwork complex and demanding. Yet I practice relentlessly, pushing through exhaustion until every rune is etched into the steel body with precision and care.

Three days later, Shadow's reconstruction is complete. His new form, forged from polished steel, gleams beneath the steady glow of crystal lamps. Though only a few inches taller than before, he now weighs over 350 kilograms. If this body were to fall on me, it could crush me flat. But that's the point. This time, Shadow was built to endure. To survive.

I stand before the new body, suspended by a heavy metal frame. Exhaustion drags at me, dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. Despite Willow's protests, I have hardly slept or eaten in my determination to rebuild Shadow. I am so tired that I can barely stand, but there is one last task I must complete.

I place my hand on Shadow's chest and sacrifice the last of my energy, mana and concentration to cast the mind transfer spell. The puppet glows for a moment and I feel mana flow into it.

Suddenly, I find myself looking down at myself, or no, I'm looking at Ren. He sits slumped on the couch, exhaustion carved into his pale face, dark rings under his weary eyes. He looks at me, barely awake, clearly waiting for confirmation.

I look down at my steel hands, flex my fingers. They move smoothly, no resistance, but the weight—the sheer solidity, is unlike anything I've felt before. I ball my fist, testing the strength. When I step out of the frame holding me, the floor groans under my feet, and a deep thud echoes through the workshop.

"Everything feels good. I feel… really strong," I say, my voice steady.

Ren exhales in relief, his body sinking deeper into the couch. "Oh… good," he mutters weakly, his eyes fluttering shut.

I activate the Night Vision enchantment. Instantly the workshop's dark corners come alive, every detail revealed as though bathed in daylight. Next I focus on the Threat Detection spell. A surge of information floods my mind, directions and distances of every living being nearby. For a moment it is overwhelming, but I quickly learn to filter it, narrowing down to only what matters.

"The new enchantments are working perfectly," I report. I glance back at Ren, but he's already fallen asleep, his soft breathing the only sound in the room. "That's all right, brother. Get some rest," I whisper.

Dressed in the new clothes, armor, cloak, and mask Ren prepared, I pull up my hood and head for the castle's hidden exit. With my Enhance Speed enchantment activated, I sprint through the city streets and down the road toward Lord Griswald's domain, my steel frame feeling no hint of fatigue. Each heavy footfall pounds against the ground like the rumble of a charging bull. Passersby glance at me in confusion, and I spook the horses of a passing carriage, but I don't slow down or pay them any mind.

It seems the price of this stronger, more durable body is sacrificing any sense of stealth.

Eventually I reach Phantom's remains, little more than bones picked clean, still tied to the tree. I retrace my steps into the forest. In the daylight, it looks far less menacing, though the damage from my fight remains clear. Blasted trees and mud blackened by old blood mark the place where it all happened, scattered with the burned, mangled bodies of the wolves.

They seem smaller now.

I carefully survey the grotesque, mutilated, and rotting wolf corpses scattered around the area. Before long, I find the one that took my eye. Without hesitation, I draw a dagger from my belt and slice into its bloated belly. The blade cuts effortlessly, and the beast's decomposed insides spill out, pushed by the foul gases of decay.

I am very thankful at this moment that I lack a sense of smell.

I plunge my hand into the gore, digging until I find what I'm looking for, my crystal eye. Pulling it free, I stare at the rare gem, still slick with rotted flesh. "This was hard to make, you bastard," I mutter, wiping it clean before pocketing it.

One by one, I move to the other corpses and rip their fangs from their jaws. My steel hands make the task effortless, though each extraction is accompanied by a sickening crack that echoes through the otherwise silent forest. I collect the fangs in a small bag, securing the proof of my victory to present to the Adventurer's Guild.

I look once more at the battlefield, at the wolves that had nearly ended me. Never again.

With my bag in hand, I turn back toward the road.