Clash of Shadows and Fangs

  Raven sat hunched in the dim light of the heater, rubbing his hands together for warmth. The reality of his situation pressed down on him like the cave’s walls—he was trapped, exhausted, and a monster lurked outside.

  "So," he muttered, staring at Shadebinder’s dark steel blade, "you said you’re more than just a weapon. What did you mean?"

  In his mind, the familiar warm voice answered, tinged with an odd mix of pride and dramatic pause.

  I... can grant you shadowy powers.

  Raven raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean exactly?"

  It will be easier to explain once you become my wielder. Say: "Shadebinder, I claim you."

  Raven frowned. "Who came up with that? Sounds kinda... demeaning."

  It was a security measure,

  Shadebinder admitted, her tone dimming.

  The High Archons didn’t want to lose their precious... servants too easily.

  A pause.

  But let’s not dwell on that. We have more pressing matters, don’t we?

  Raven decided not to ask for elaboration—for now.

  "Shadebinder, I claim you."

  The moment the words left his lips, something shifted. A pulse of energy, cold yet invigorating, surged through him. His limbs no longer felt sluggish, his mind no longer clouded by fatigue. It wasn’t healing, not exactly—his body was still battered, his stomach still empty—but a presence now coursed through his being, fueling him with strength that wasn’t his own.

  Good! You should feel a little better now.

  Shadebinder sounded pleased.

  Your body is no longer running on just your strength—you’re drawing from mine as well. But don’t get careless. If you burn through this as well, there will be no more second chances.

  "Alright," he said. "So what now?"

  Now, you learn to use my power.

  Shadebinder’s voice was almost giddy.

  Focus on the sensation you just felt. Try to pull at it—like threads—and shape it into something.

  "Something what?"

  Something useful! A net, a rope, anything! You’ll need it if you want to stop that monster.

  Raven exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. He focused inward, searching for the sensation Shadebinder described. At first, there was nothing. Then—like strands of ink unraveling in water—shadows began to swirl around his fingers.

  Relax.

  Shadebinder’s voice was soothing.

  It’s like weaving. The stronger the image in your mind, the more solid the construct will be.

  Raven steadied himself and tried again. This time, the shadows clung to his hands, stretching outward in thin, wispy lines. He imagined them twisting together, knotting like strands of a web—something he could use to slow the beast down.

  It took effort. Concentration. The more intricate the pattern, the harder it became. But as the threads wove together, a crude net began to form in his hands.

  Yes! That’s it!

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Shadebinder cheered.

  Just remember—the more strands you use, the stronger the construct. But this isn’t unlimited, Raven. Every time you shape the shadows, it costs you. If you push too far, you will collapse.

  Raven began practicing for the coming fight.

  Raven knelt by the mouth of the cave, breath slow, heart pounding. The cold bit into him, but he barely noticed. His fingers curled tightly around Shadebinder’s hilt.

  "Alright," he whispered. "Let’s see if it’s still out there."

  I’ll take a look.

  Shadebinder’s voice hummed in his mind.

  Slowly, he tilted the blade outward, just enough for the weapon to "see." A moment passed. Then—

  Found it.

  Shadebinder’s tone darkened.

  It’s... occupied.

  Raven frowned. "Occupied?"

  Feeding. It’s eating the corpses.

  A pause. Then, confusion crept into her voice.

  Wait... this one’s already dead. There were two?

  Raven exhaled sharply. "Yeah. I saw the other one back when I woke up. It was already dead in front of the carrier."

  And they even eat their own?

  Raven nodded grimly. "Guess it’s desperate."

  Or just a monster.

  Shadebinder’s voice was laced with quiet disgust.

  Even though Raven didn’t remember them, guilt gnawed at him for letting their remains be devoured.

  But he gathered his determination. "Alright, let's do it."

  The plan was simple—taunt the chimera, lure it in, and strike from the cover of the cave. He had to be quick. Precise.

  He stepped out of the cave and exhaled sharply. "Hey, ugly! I'm right here!" His voice echoed through the cold wilderness.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a low, guttural growl rolled through the air. The beast turned its head toward him, bloodied maw twitching, ears perked. Its grotesque, wolf-like form tensed. Then it charged.

  Snow exploded beneath its massive limbs as it lunged forward, a blur of muscle and malice. Raven spun and bolted back into the cave.

  The moment the creature’s clawed hand reached into the cave, Raven swung.

  Shadows burst from the blade, forming a net that wrapped around the chimera’s forearm, stopping it from moving. Raven wasn’t about to waste this chance. He plunged the blade into the beast’s flesh.

  Before he could strike again, the creature roared and thrashed so violently that it broke free from the shadows. It let out an enraged snarl and stumbled back, just outside the cave’s reach.

  Raven’s breath was ragged. The chimera lingered far from the cave entrance, its glowing eyes locked onto him, but it didn’t lunge again. It was just waiting.

  Damn it!

  Shadebinder’s frustration crackled in his mind.

  Why couldn’t it be a little stupider?!

  Raven took a step toward the cave entrance.

  Wait. What are you doing?

  Shadebinder’s voice held a rare hint of uncertainty.

  Raven exhaled. "As far as I see it, I can either sit here and wait to freeze or starve… or I can take a chance and fight." His grip on her hilt tightened. "I choose to fight."

  A pause. Then, Shadebinder let out a slow sigh.

  True enough.

  Her tone shifted, steel replacing doubt.

  You can do this. You will do this. My brave knight.

  Raven took a deep breath and stepped fully out into the open, away from the entrance. Snow crunched beneath his boots. The chimera immediately tensed, muscles coiling.

  Raven raised his blade, taunting. "Come on, then!"

  The beast’s lips curled back, exposing bloodied fangs. And then—it lunged.

  Raven didn’t hesitate. He willed the shadows to move, twisting them into a web as he hurled them forward. The dark strands struck true, smothering the creature’s face.

  The chimera let out a furious, strangled snarl, blinded. Its momentum carried it forward at full speed—too fast to stop.

  Raven threw himself to the side as the beast crashed into the rocky cliff wall with a sickening crack. Snow rained down from the impact.

  Raven hit the ground hard, rolling through the snow. He scrambled to his feet, barely keeping his balance. His vision spun, but he couldn’t waste this chance.

  The chimera thrashed, its claws raking at the shadows covering its eyes.

  Now!

  Raven lunged, driving Shadebinder’s blade deep into its side.

  The chimera howled, the sound shaking his bones. It staggered back, wrenching itself free, blood dripping from the wound. But instead of attacking, it turned.

  Raven could only watch as the beast, still blinded and wounded, fled into the Wilds, disappearing into the snow and darkness.

  Panting, Raven stood there in disbelief. It was over. He was alive.

  YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT!

  Shadebinder’s voice rang with exhilaration.

  Raven let out a shaky breath. His entire body ached, exhaustion creeping in—but for the first time since waking in this frozen wasteland, he felt something else.

  Hope.