Where a battle is fought between man and shadow, but who comes out the victor?

***

Five and Twenty Years Ago

Selûne smiled down upon the Sword Coast that night. Not a cloud blocked the white moon shining down on West Harbor, nor the twinkling stars that dotted the midnight sky. If one had looked at the sky, they would picture a perfect night.

On the ground, it was another story. The stench of brimstone filled the air as demons and devils wrestled with living shadows, soldiers with the fearsome eye of Neverwinter struggling to determine who the true threat was.

But no matter if the warriors were human or shadow, devil or demon, all avoided the place on the field where a cloaked man wielding a silver sword that shimmered, almost with life itself, faced off against a towering creature of pure shadow in armor. Every swipe of his sword crashed against the axe-like blades of the shadow creature, neither giving ground to the other.

The shadow creature finally tossed the mage aside like it was nothing, but the mage landed on his feet, eyes narrowed. He narrowed and lifted his hand, chanting in an ominous language; the tattoos inked onto his head scalp and forehead glowed as lightning crackled and hit his hand, forming an orb of energy. As the orb grew in size, another shadow blade materialized around the hand of the shadow creature. It took off at a run, occasionally disappearing in a cloud of shadow and reappearing closer. The mage finally threw the orb with all his might, aiming for the shadow creature's chest.

The orb hit its mark, but the creature barely faltered. The mage adjusted his grip so he held the silver sword with both hands, then ran forward to meet the creature's blade with his own. The blades locked together, and the mage grimaced, trying to hold firm.

Then a sound behind him, from the direction of the village, caused him to take his attention away from the shadow. It sounded like a wail . . . a child's wail, the mage thought. In a panic, he realized that one sound was enough to break his precious concentration.

If the shadow creature could smile, that was what it was doing as it pressed harder upon the silver sword. A cracking noise made him turn back around, and before the mage's eyes, the sword splintered into shards that spiraled away from him. One went through the shadow creature, and to the mage's brief relief, it disappeared from existence.

But as the other shards scattered, he had enough time to grab one of the pieces before the ground rumbled beneath him. His forces screamed in protest around him, and the mage tried to grab other shards before the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

The last thing he heard was the cry of a dying woman, and the wail of the child – no, children – that had led to his doom.

***

We catch up to present day next time.

graphic by marvelity