My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

When Sylvia joked about being an evil stepmother, Damon let out a soft chuckle. He could not even picture it.

The Sylvia he remembered had always been quiet, reserved, and buried in a book. Now the book was gone, and she was studying the world instead.

He had not seen it while he was away for three whole years, but she had truly changed. She did not even seem bothered by Ranar’s unusual presence in his arms.

Damon tilted his head slightly and asked a question he immediately regretted.

“Hey… you have not fallen out of love with me, right?”

Sylvia blinked, caught off guard. Then a small smile curved her lips as she turned to face him.

“As surely as the sun will rise. Why would you think otherwise?”

Damon looked away, suddenly awkward.

“No, no, I just—”

“I will have you know I am no longer a child. I grew up while you were gone,” she said, puffing her cheeks in a pout that only made her look more adorable.

“Right, right. My apologies, princess.” Damon paused mid-sentence as another thought struck him. “Speaking of you being a princess, I did not see any reaction from your father when he saw me. Especially about that dragon.”

Her smile froze.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze, strands of hair falling across her face.

“Erm… sorry about what is to come,” she said quietly. “But I know you will overcome it.”

Damon felt a prick of unease crawl up his spine.

“What is to come?”

She glanced at him, then away.

“Let us just say… one dragon deserves another.”

Before he could press further, she stood abruptly and hurried off.

Damon felt every hair on his body stand on end.

One dragon deserves another.

Did that mean Rexagon was coming for him? Or had the elf king found a way to unleash a dragon on him?

As Sylvia disappeared into the distance, Damon suddenly felt a presence beside him.

There were no footsteps. No sound. Just the faint disturbance of air as someone appeared next to him.

He adjusted Ranar gently in his arms and rocked her instinctively.

“When did you learn to teleport?” Damon asked without looking.

The man beside him chuckled softly.

Xander did not answer immediately. Then he said,

“I picked up a few things. With all the fighting lately, I reached the fifth class.”

Damon glanced down at his daughter, watching her tiny fingers twitch in her sleep, then lifted his eyes to Xander.

“What do you want? Something tells me you are not here for idle chatter.”

“Actually, I am,” Xander muttered.

He flicked his wrist. A bottle of fine wine and two glasses appeared in his hand as if plucked from thin air.

“You really plan to return to your wife’s chambers drunk on the first night, do you?” Damon asked, taking one of the glasses anyway.

“Just a little,” Xander said, staring into the dark red liquid before taking a slow sip. “I never imagined myself getting married. Not within this century. Not this quickly.”

His voice carried a weight Damon had rarely heard before.

“After my brother died, my duties doubled. I had so much more to prove.”

“I did not realize being heir to a great house was this hard. Evangeline never seems to struggle with it,” Damon said, thinking of his own family.

Xander gave a quiet, knowing chuckle.

“That is because she has you. The old grand duke already made you the face of the next generation. He expects great things from you. I doubt Evangeline would even want to compete with you for succession.”

Damon frowned slightly.

“Why though? She is the rightful heir. I am not even interested in leading House Brightwater.”

“Evangeline already gave up. She has not said it aloud, but her actions speak clearly. She is content taking the back seat.”

Damon’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Xander shook his head.

“That prophecy Sylvia gave us long ago… it is coming true for all of us. We never took it seriously, but it has wrapped itself around our lives.”

He paused, eyes distant.

“Some of us have it worse. My brother died, and now I am chasing a faceless shadow I cannot defeat.”

“Evangeline’s position is threatened. Maybe she feels less loved than before. Being compared to you is unfair. She is a great warrior and leader in her own right.”

Damon lowered his head, saying nothing.

“The only one who did not receive a reading that day was Sylvia herself,” Xander added quietly. “I cannot remember any prophecy about her.”

“Neither can I,” Damon said.

Xander looked up at the moon.

“That power of hers is truly insidious.”

Damon shifted Ranar gently in his arms and watched her small hands flex and relax in her sleep.

“You know Evangeline may have already overcome her prophecy. It assured her she was loved.”

He recited from memory.

“The prodigal child returns home showered with love and given all. Do not worry, you are loved as well. The golden sun merely wishes to make up for lost time.”

Xander shook his head in disbelief.

“You really remembered it.”

Damon nodded slowly.

“I remember all of them. They were worth remembering.”

“Evangeline’s sounded more like reassurance than prophecy. It was as if fate itself was on her side.”

Damon finished his drink and held the glass out for a refill.

“Matia’s prophecy was twisted. It sounded beautiful, but it spoke of her death and resurrection.”

Xander muttered the words under his breath. “The wingless fairy will rise again. The one who has been lost will return…”

He paused.

“So Matia really did die. We always suspected it, but Sylvia insisted we never speak of it. We all pretended. These days she is almost the same as before, only colder. That childish fairy who doubted everything is gone. I have not seen her hesitate once.”

Damon sighed.

“It would be strange if she did.”

Then he turned his gaze to Xander and repeated his prophecy.

“Angry shadows descend. The noble knight’s dark deeds become known. He had murdered night and day. He is disgusted by his own reflection. His dark deeds will be embraced by hungry shadows. Death is his final resting place. You will be his silent avenger, forced to forever hunt a faceless enemy. Hope you never see its face.”

Xander froze.

He lowered his head and took a long drink, the wine burning down his throat.

“I still want to know,” he said hoarsely. “I still want to see its face. I still want revenge for my brother.”

Xander did not look up as he spoke.

Damon frowned. Xander’s brother had been the subject of the prophecy. He was the knight at the beginning of it, and night and day had referred to Damon’s parents. Years later, Damon had appeared as the faceless Amon and killed him right in front of Xander.

Thinking about it now, maybe Damon should have let it go. Maybe he should have forgiven him. But when he imagined the man who killed his parents walking free, laughing, drinking, moving on with his life, Damon felt something inside him refuse.

Forgiveness was hard. Forgetting was harder.

“So how is your hunt? You can choose to let go, Xander. Carrying hate is not easy, and killing your enemy will not be easy either.”

“I know that,” Xander said through gritted teeth. “I understand. But I insist.”

“Hope you never see its face. You were given a warning,” Damon said. “When you finally unmask your demons, it will not be pleasant.”

Damon hesitated before speaking again.

“About your first born child.”

“Yes, I know,” Xander cut in. “I will give them to you the moment they say their first word. As part of our contract.”

Anger rose in Damon’s chest.

“You would really give away your child? I am offering you a chance to dissolve this contract. The oath can be broken if we both agree. It is a clause we wrote ourselves.”

“No,” Xander said firmly. “You and you alone can help me kill Amon. That contract guarantees you keep your word.”

“So you would give up your own offspring?”

“Victory demands sacrifices,” Xander replied.

“Victory? You mean revenge.”

Damon looked down at his daughter.

“I was wrong, Xander. I was wrong to try to break the contract. You do not deserve to be a father.”

Xander’s expression darkened. His gaze drifted to the baby in Damon’s arms before returning to him.

“And you have grown weak.”

Damon watched his daughter sleep.

“What you think has made me weaker has actually made me stronger. You just cannot see it from where you stand.”

Xander lifted the bottle and drank straight from it before rising to his feet.

“I hope you have not forgotten your prophecy. Perhaps the most damning of them all.”

Damon was the one who recited it.

“I offer a gentle warning. A caution. Beware. Your peril has only begun. That, I guarantee. The truth is a steel horse. Your lies will be broken. Your truths will be revealed. And when they are, you will be betrayed by one you cherish.”

“I am well aware,” Damon said. “But so be it. When that day comes, you will also learn that some of my lies are gentle compared to the truth. Just like your child will learn your truth, you will learn the truth about your brother.”

Xander turned to leave.

“I do not fear the truth.”

“You should,” Damon whispered.