Chronicles Of The Shadow Sovereign

Levi took a deep breath, his mind racing. He had prepared for this moment in countless dreams, each one a rehearsal for the trial he now facing.

Yet, as he stood there, he couldn't shake the feeling that reality had diverged from his visions.

The events unfolding before him were nothing like the dreams he had experienced.

The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he steeled himself. There was no turning back.

"I should first go through the sovereign trial," Levi murmured to himself, his voice low but firm. "They will mentally prepare for their own trials."

Deep in his mind, he had relived this moment hundreds of times. Yet, as he stood here now, something felt off.

Reality was veering away from the path his dreams had shown him. Events were not unfolding as they should.

"Why is everything different from what I foresaw?" he wondered, his brow furrowed.

He turned to the others behind him. Anderson, Dorian, and Elyra who were watching with bated breath.

They still seemed lost in their thoughts, unable to distinguish whether this was truly happening or if it was all an elaborate illusion.

"Open your eyes and see clearly," Levi commanded, his voice slicing through their daze. "After me, you will also have to undergo the trial. Yours may not be as difficult as mine, but do not mistake that for mercy. You must be ready."

They nodded, though hesitation still lingered in their expressions.

Without another word, Levi stepped forward. The Shattered Veil pulsed before him, its form shifting like fractured glass caught in an eternal state of breaking and mending.

A massive hammer, wreathed in crimson flames, floated above the gate.

As Levi approached, it ignited in a blaze of red light, and a searing crimson aura burst forth, enveloping him in its grasp.

Before he could react, the world around him shattered and he was pulled into a dream.

A luminous circle of light materialized before his head, swirling with ethereal energy. Within its glowing depths, Levi's dream unfolded like a scene captured in time, vivid and hauntingly real.

Levi found himself in a desolate city, its streets lined with crumbling buildings and littered with debris.

The sky above was a dull gray, the sun obscured by thick clouds.

The air was cold, biting at his skin as he took in his surroundings. He looked down at himself and gasped.

"Who am I?" the boy whispered, his voice barely audible. He tried to recall his memories, but his mind was a blank slate.

There was no past, no identity, only the present moment and the harsh reality of his existence. He was blind, alone, and utterly powerless.

Memories flooded the void: A name 'Levi' but no face. Only this frail shell remained, its hollow chest heaving as winter winds gnawed through rags.

"Move, gutter rat!" A boot slammed into his ribs. Levi collapsed, cheek pressed to freezing stone as coins clattered around him. Mocking voices swirled:

"Pathetic."

"Ought to drown the wretch."

"Leave him—the cold'll finish"

Watching this scene unfold, Anderson's face turned pale.

"Young master..." he murmured, his hands clenched into fists. "What kind of cruel trial is this?"

Elyra's expression darkened as she too began to understand.

"This is wrong," she said under her breath. "We all knew this was a trial, but Levi doesn't know. He truly believes this is his reality."

There was a stark difference between experiencing a trial while knowing it's a test and experiencing one believing it to be real.

Levi was suffering through true despair, unaware that it was a mere illusion

In the Temple of Erytheia, every student who underwent the trial knew it was merely a test.

But a sovereign's test, it was different. He was trapped in a reality he believed to be true, unaware that he was being tested.

But Levi, even in his blind, broken state, did not surrender.

Though he was abandoned, he did not succumb to hatred. Though he had nothing, he did not become resentful.

Instead, he adapted.

Yet, instead of succumbing to fear, the boy rose to his feet.

Weak and blind, he refused to be paralyzed by despair. Step by step, he began to move forward.

The dream's logic was flawless, calloused palms, aching joints, the metallic tang of a mouth missing teeth. If this was illusion, it wore reality's skin.

Days blurred. Hunger carved his insides. Yet within the deprivation, Levi noticed patterns:

The baker's daughter hummed the same folk tune each dawn, blacksmith's hammer struck seven times before quenching steel, beggars gathered near the south well at twilight, sharing moldy bread.

He realized. Blindness had sharpened his hearing, his touch, until the city revealed itself in textures and echoes.

A map unfolded in his mind, alleyways as musical notes, market stalls as scent trails.

The sounds of the city echoed around him, footsteps, distant voices, the clatter of carts but they were distorted, as if filtered through a veil.

He could hear the subtle changes in tone and rhythm, the background noises that others might ignore.

His heightened senses were both a blessing and a curse, amplifying the chaos of the world around him.

He stumbled into a marketplace, where the smells of food and spices filled the air.

His stomach growled, a painful reminder of his hunger. He approached a stall, his hands trembling as he reached out for a piece of bread.

The shopkeeper, a gruff man with a booming voice, grabbed his wrist. "What do you think you're doing, boy?" he demanded.

The boy flinched but did not pull away. "Please," he said, his voice trembling. "I have nothing. I can work for you. Just give me something to eat."

The shopkeeper hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. You can sweep the floor. But don't expect any handouts."

The boy nodded, grateful for the opportunity. He worked tirelessly, his hands raw and blistered by the end of the day.

In return, he was given a small loaf of bread and a bowl of soup. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him going.

Over time, the boy began to adapt to his new life. He honed his senses, using them to navigate the world around him.

He learned to read Braille, to detect subtle changes in texture and temperature. He even began to recognize people by their scent, a skill that proved invaluable in his interactions.

But he didn't stop there. He started to form connections with other beggars, creating a network of support among the outcasts of society.

One night, a child's whimper cut through tavern music. Levi crawled toward the sound, fingers brushing a small shivering form.

"P-please..." The girl's wrists bore iron cuffs.

Runaway slave.

Levi tore a strip from his tunic, pressing it to her bleeding forehead. "What's your name?"

"N-Ness."

"Listen well, Ness." He guided her hand to his face, letting her trace the sunken eyes, the jagged scar across his brow. "They'll hunt you. But under the bridge by the tanner's shop—there's a hollow behind the third stone. Tell them 'the Crow' sent you."

Her breath hitched. "Why help me?"

Levi's lips curved."Even crows need flocks"

Levi, now called 'the Crow' by urchins and slaves, stood in a candlelit cellar. Twenty pairs of eyes watched him, their owners ranging from gaunt teenagers to scarred mercenaries.

"The guard captain takes bribes every Firesday," Levi said, tapping a nail against a chalk-drawn map. "We replace his gold with gilded lead. Vasha, you'll need to mimic his mistress's perfume..."

Dorian let out a low whistle. "He's building a syndicate."

The Shattered Veil tests one's ability to wield power from powerlessness

In the vision, Levi's network now spanned the city—informants in brothels, thieves in noble courts, even a disgraced alchemist brewing poisons.

Spring came. Levi's fever broke, but his body was a ruin. His lungs were ravaged by cold, each breath a wet rattle, fingers permanently curled, nails blackened from frost.

His eyes milky and weeping, though he'd long stopped seeing with them.

Ness brought him wild onions, her own wrists now bearing the Crow's mark—a charcoal tally for every soul they'd saved.

"We need a healer," Ness urged after Levi coughed blood into his palm.

"Use the coins for the children."

"You'll die!"

He smiled. "Then I'll die as a man, not a beggar."

The end came on a moonless night.

Levi huddled in their makeshift haven, a crypt beneath the temple, its walls etched with forgotten gods.

Ness slept beside him, her head pillowed on his ruined leg. The others snored in a pile of stolen furs, bellies full for once.

Pain was a constant now, but this… this was different. Fire in his chest. Liquid breathing.

"Ah."

He'd seen enough death to recognize its approach.

Levi groped for Ness's hand. "The ledger… under the magistrate's desk…"

"Don't talk." She trembled.

"Burn it. The slavers' names… protect the flock…"

"Levi—"

"Promise me."

Her tears fell hot on his face. "I promise."

He exhaled. Let go.