Whispers in the Night

Sixty seconds.

Fate won't wait, and neither will he.

Fifty-five seconds.

The breaths came in quick gasps.

Fifty seconds.

The mission was in full swing, and the stakes had never been higher.

Forty seconds.

The foot sent the door flying open as he stormed in just to see an old man shivering in the corner.

Thirty seconds.

"Time's up," he growled, his voice dripping with menace. "No more games!"

Twenty seconds.

The blade flashed in the dim light, finding its mark by blowing off his head with a deadly strike.

Ten seconds.

The room fell into silence as he kicked the lifeless body. "And here they come."

Zero seconds.

"The Lord is dead," someone's voice echoed. In the blink of an eye, the room was filled with knights, their boots thudding against the floor in perfect unison. One of them came forward. "Drop your weapon!" he commanded.

A sinister smile on his lips was engraved. It sent chills down the room, and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cloak. "I've been waiting for you!" he finally announced, slightly giggling.

"You can't run anymore Jinx!" the leader said firmly.

The Knights moved in with silent precision, their shadows stretching across the dimly lit room. Jinx stood in the centre, his cloak billowing like a wraith in the night. As their cold gazes locked onto their elusive target, an eerie hush settled over the scene.

In that charged moment, an inexplicable sensation filled the air, a palpable aura of foreboding that sent shivers down the spines of the knights. It was as if darkness itself had taken form, ready to devour them whole. Yet, they pressed on, their determination masked by feigned courage.

In the blink of an eye, as if the very darkness had embraced him, Jinx melted into the shadows, vanishing like a phantom. The Knights stood frozen, their breaths caught in their throats, as the void he left behind seemed to taunt their senses. A haunting echo of his presence lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of their adversary's malevolence.

Their hands gripped their weapons tighter, their knuckles turning white, but uncertainty paralyzed their actions. The room felt suffocating as if the walls themselves were closing in on them, imprisoning them in a macabre dance of fear.

Fearful glances darted from one shadow to another, their minds playing tricks, imagining every corner concealing their enigmatic foe. The very darkness seemed to shift, alive with ominous energy, as if it were mocking their futile efforts to apprehend him.

"He's still here," one whispered, his voice trembling, as he pointed to darkness.

"No, he's gone," another countered, trying to maintain composure despite the tremor in his voice.

Suddenly, a swift and calculated strike erupted from the shadows, propelling one unsuspecting knight to the ground. His desperate scream was cut short as Jinx's blade arced through the air, leaving behind a grotesque tapestry of crimson upon the once pristine walls. The metallic tang of blood filled the room, macabre artistry of violence.

Another knight lunged forward, driven by a primal rage. But Jinx was the wraith of the night, a master of deception and precision. His movements were a haunting ballet of death, fluid and elusive, as he gracefully sidestepped the attack. Jinx's dark cloak swirled like a vortex, a shroud of malevolence that seemed to swallow light itself. In swift retaliation, his blade found its mark, cleaving through armour and flesh with chilling accuracy.

The knight's eyes widened in disbelief as his lifeblood gushed from the mortal wound. Gasping for breath, he crumpled to his knees, the life force within him seeping away like a leaking vessel. Jinx's grin stretched wider, a sinister expression that revelled in the torment he had inflicted upon his adversaries.

Chaos erupted around them, a cacophony of screams and clashing weapons reverberating through the chamber. Knights stumbled and collided, their minds clouded with fear and disorientation. Jinx moved with lethal precision, a phantom amidst the tumult, leaving devastation in his wake. Each strike of his blade was a symphony of malevolence, a twisted performance that left the room painted in gore.

The once-white walls now bore the gruesome brushstrokes of crimson, a haunting reminder of the grotesque beauty of violence. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, a mosaic of agony and suffering, a testament to Jinx's relentless wrath.

As the last knight fell, a chilling silence engulfed the room, broken only by Jinx's heavy breaths. The Knight whispered his last words, "So, we never stood a chance!" as the curtain of darkness fell.

"In the embrace of shadows, the truth of our nature is revealed, painted in crimson upon the canvas of fate." Usually, he would laugh at this quote whenever she said it, but today. He felt it.

With his heart still pounding from the carnage he had left behind, Jinx plunged into the heart of the unforgiving forest. The trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their branches reaching out like skeletal claws. The shadows danced around him, weaving a macabre tapestry that matched the darkness in his soul.

In the midst of the eerie silence, a lone wolf's howl pierced the night, a mournful cry that echoed through the dense canopy. It was a haunting reminder of the trail of destruction he had wrought, the price paid for venturing into the abyss of vengeance.

As Jinx ran through the undergrowth, his mind was haunted by the faces of those he had encountered on his path to darkness. Their pleading eyes, their final gasps for mercy, were all etched in his memory like scars that refused to fade.

A clearing lay hidden from prying eyes, concealed by an otherworldly mist that clung to the trees like a haunting embrace. As Jinx approached the enigmatic meeting place, he could feel the air crackle with electric anticipation, as if the very essence of night itself held its breath.

Just like a ghostly apparition, she appeared before him—the Mistress of Shadows. Her presence was both mesmerizing and eerie.

"I trust the mission is done," she purred, her voice carrying the weight of secrets untold.

Jinx nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It is done," he replied, his voice tinged with the darkness that had now consumed him.

As the Mistress of Shadows smiled, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, Jinx knew that there was no going back. The die had been cast, and their destinies were forever entwined in the shadows. "Very well Jinx. Oh! Maybe I should say-" she chuckled, "Aricen!"

"Thank you, Milady!" He looked up at her. "I would never let you down."