He looked over at Islande, watching the sun reflect in her golden eyes. He remembered the regret that had shone in them, the pain in her voice.

Had it been real?

Could he trust her words?

The regret that shone in her eyes seemed real. Her pain was real. The Shadow Magic whispered to him that he couldn't trust her, worming its way into his heart, making him doubt himself, doubt her. He fought it, closing off his heart, not letting it in. He didn't want it to control him.

He wanted to trust her, wanted to have someone he could hold onto in a world that had abandoned him. He tore his gaze away from her as she looked over at him, not wanting to meet her gaze.

Instead he turned his attention to the realization that weighed heavy on his mind. He was going home. He was returning to the place he left behind so long ago.

He wasn't ready to return, he knew that deep inside him. He could never be truly ready to return to a place he thought he would never see again.

This time I am no hero.

Instead, to most, he was the villain. He was the darkness, something unknown, something they couldn't trust.

Viseron slowed as Islande did, noticing more and more people starting to surround them. This was one of the roads that connected Crysinlor to its outer laying towns and villages.

Viseron noticed the space the merchants, farmers and other traders gave him, looking warily at the undead horse he road. Viseron reached up, pulling the hood of his cloak up around his face, retreating within himself.

As they approached the Gilded Gates the Shadow Magic recoiled from the strong presence of Solais, the magic that flowed through Crysinlor's very foundation.

The whispers in his head grew angry, agitated, hissing at him. He felt as though he was being pulled in two directions, his heart longing for the warmth of his home, his mind trying to get away from it.

Viseron silenced the voices in his head, a feat that had become harder and harder as of late.

"Are you okay?" Asked Islande softly.

Her voice pulled him out of his reverie and he looked over at her, locking eyes briefly before looking away, not saying a word.

No, he thought, I am far from okay.

They slowed as they neared the Gilded Gates, six or seven guards intercepting them. Islande went out meet them, talking lowly with them. Several glances were shot his way but after several long moments of intense conversation to they let them pass, eyeing him suspiciously.

Viseron didn't make eye contact, preferring to stay hidden. He kept his eyes on the cobblestone streets as they rode through the Kingdom, the normally bustling streets coming to a standstill as they passed.

Viseron felt fear move through the citizens like ripples in a lake, whispers brushing his ears, fear-filled eyes following him, pinning him down. Viseron shrunk within himself, desperately wishing that he could simply disappear.

He hated the way they looked at him, the way they judged him, treated him differently. In the back of his mind he wondered how many of them remembered who he had been.

Most of them probably didn't remember.

It is better this way.

Viseron was thankful when they emerged into the courtyard, high alabaster walls obscuring them from view.

Viseron dismounted as they neared the stables, telling the Dioket wordlessly to return to the Drenzian. He watched as it disappeared, turning when someone say his name.

He turned, seeing Islande standing behind him, her Knights not far away.

"I will take you to where you will be staying," she said, her voice betraying now emotion.

Viseron nodded, following her without a word.

The strict formality of her words didn't sit well with him, it felt... off. She had never been this distant with him before, he wasn't used to it. He would have to get used to it now, however. Things were very different from the way he had left them.

As they entered the castle Viseron began to recognize the halls. He knew where they were in the castle, knew the way to the Library, The Gardens, the balcony, Throne Room, Ballroom, Dining Hall, Guard Tower, the Advisers' quarters and guest quarters from where they were, even after twenty years. He hadn't forgotten the place he grew up in, he never would.

Viseron knew immediately where they were going when they walked up the third flight of stairs into the Royalty's wing of the palace. She was taking him to his old quarters, where he had lived since he was a boy.

Islande stopped outside the door, the sunlight filtering through the tall windows sparkling off the golden etching of The Oak.

As Viseron laud eyes on the gilded door he stopped, frozen as he stared at it. Memories came back to him, memories of seeing guards at his door, of telling them he had done nothing wrong. He felt a guard's hand encircle his wrist and pulled back, saw the flash of swords being drawn, angry words being exchanged.

Then there were shouting voices, one of the guards laying motionless on the carpeted floor, slain by his hand.

He took a step back, his breath quickening, eyes wide.

Viseron felt cold metal encircle his wrists, heard one of the Knights cast an enchantment to subdue his magic.
Saw Evarian, King of Abhainne, standing above where he had been shoved to his knees, his eyes cold.

"Why are you doing this? I have done nothing wrong." His own voice echoed in his mind.

"I feel the darkness in you, Viseron, even if you can't feel it yourself. You are just like the Shadowalker, corrupted by Dark Magic."

He remembered seeing Islande standing behind him, remembered being unable to read her expression as he asked her if she believed what Evarian said, pleaded with her to not let this happen. Seeing the emptiness in Islande's eyes, not being able to feel her emotions. He never got an answer. He never knew if she truly agreed with what Evarian had made the other rulers believe about him.

He only knew that that day was the last time he saw her before he was exiled. What he was remembering was when they came to take him away, when a misunderstanding on his part had led to the death of two guards, giving Evarian enough evidence to twist the truth.

When his Kingdom turned on him, when his love abandoned him, when he was exiled to the darkness.

"Viseron," said a voice, pulling him out of his reverie.

He felt a hand touch his arm and pulled away, turning his body so she couldn't see it when he closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, walking towards the door.

He turned, briefly meeting Islande's gaze. He knew she knew what had flashed through his mind, the memories of that day when the Kings and Queens of the Kingdoms had decided the fate of their hero. When they had turned his Kingdom on him all in the name of power. They had been afraid of him, of what he might do, so they decided to get rid of him.

Little did they know their plan didn't work like it should have.

Viseron shut the door behind him, letting out a shaky breath as he slid down it, pulling his knees to his chest and putting his head in his hands. It was all too overwhelming, to be back in a place that had disgraced him, a place he missed but hated at the same time.

He felt like he wanted to scream at the sky, ask why he was chosen to suffer like he had. To be turned into something he wasn't, to live with the evil within him.

To lose his love, to be forsaken by his Kingdom, to be a myth, to be a shadow, to be forgotten.

"Why me?"

He looked up at where the sun was finally emerging through the clouds, hoping for an answer to the question he had been asked a million times.

"Why did you choose me to endure this pain?"

Only silence answered his words like it had so many times before. Even Mäthair, the Creator of All Things, the Mother and Protector had abandoned him like everyone else had.

He had no one to turn to, no one left that he could trust, no one left he could even talk to.

He was completely alone.