ID: 3
Username: [Redacted]
Title: Living Shadow

The wretched spawn of the fallen lord approached the small town, as they had dozens of others. A small force, almost too small to have been capable of the atrocities reports claimed they committed. Less than two dozen men accompanied the twisted prince. For a brief moment, Living-Shadow felt that they may just survive this battle.

Then they saw it. Pillars of ice cracked the permafrost in a lumbering gait. Icicle spears capped its arms. Golden orbs glowed upon the frozen body, flashing in some unknown language.

Like how a snowflake fades against a roaring blaze, so did any hope Living-Shadow had of surviving this day.

The old specter prepared to die for this village they had grown to love. None have ever survived against the Titans the late king had forged.

But Living-Shadow knew they didn't have to win the battle. They only had to prolong it. To buy time for the people of Snowpoint to escape. Spectral claws scraped against the unseen, plucking at the very threads of reality.

Love and rage merged into righteous fury as the self proclaimed “Rightful King of all Earth” demanded their surrender, as if word of his twisted deeds had not spread to all corners of the globe. Villages slaughtered in a desperate quest to reclaim the empire his father forged.

With a guttural snarl, Living-Shadow bared their fangs in clear defiance, crimson crest flickering with hellish flames.Toxic miasma oozed past the boundaries of dimensions, poisoning the battlefield. Frost crackled into existence as the Titan moved, commanded by its unworthy master. A titanic glacier formed, ready to smite its defenseless victims…

…Only to collapse as the gates of hell themselves were cast open.

Corrosive power flooded the world as Living-Shadow opened a rift, unleashing the might of the Banished Son upon this realm. Distortion met Reality, soaking the battlefield in its perversion of aura. Ice shattered into the twisted snow-ash of a great fire, dissipating under the force of . The very body of the construct grew damp under the influence of all that is Not.

In that moment, Living-Shadow saw a Truth. A chance for victory. A fatal flaw, not in the golem's creation, but its very nature. The Titan drew its power from the essence of life. In a way, it was akin to a ghost. All that sustained it was the very aura of the Godking saturating every crystal of ice within it. An inexhaustible well, the perfect fuel for the engine of war.

The perfect food for a being of distortion. And Living-Shadow was famished.

With newfound vigor, the ancient dragon lunged at the icy construct, sinking their essence into the Godking’s masterpiece. Drinking up its life force, the aura powering the great titan flooded the drake, overwhelming them as the Almighty's own divine essence filled their incorporeal body. Godly power began to tear them apart, divine energy clashing against their own corrosive nature, before they finally absorbed its aura, breaking it down into raw distortional might.

Tainted fire blazed to life in the shadow dragon’s maw as stable reality faltered under distortion’s gleeful wrath. Plumes of fouled steam formed as icy reality met its blazing inversion. Mortal onlookers were forced to flee from the clashing titans.

For seven days, the two matched each other. For seven days the people of the small village were safe from pursuit. For seven days distortion fouled the earth as ice sought to smother its influence. The air itself grew dry and heavy as ice and distortion robbed it of warmth. They were relentless in their clash, ceaseless combat not slowing in the slightest. The titans' energy seemed endless, and Living-Shadow repeatedly drank from it, growing stronger as the battle raged.

Missiles of draconic might erupted from their great crest, fracturing the weakened limbs of the Titan. A spectral tail carved through glaciers and icy flesh as ghostly energy froze into solid Not. Lesser ghosts were birthed by the conflict, though few lived long enough to escape the battle, swallowed by the very one that gave them life.

On the morning of the eighth day, all was quiet. The ice golem sat unmoving in the ruined field, its master nothing more than ash and dust.

As for Living-Shadow, none know what became of them. Some say the vile power they wielded had utterly consumed them. Others claim they left once the threat had passed. A few even believe they never left, and continue to watch over the city of Snowpoint. A rather fanciful tale, but no evidence has ever been found to support such a claim.

Historians and mystics agree that any distortional entities that harvest the essence of the golem would be torn apart by the divine energy powering them. There was simply no way for a mere Dragapult to survive.

--------

From the murky depth of a shadow, golden eyes looked on, observing the child playing along the shore of Acuity. Summer had finally graced the north of Sinnoh, relieving the lake of its frozen lid.

Anywhere else, young Candice would be in peril, subject to the whims of any creature who happened upon her. The young Snover with her was no match for the great beasts that called the lake's shore home. It was foolish to come here, without the safety of numbers.

Fortunately for her, Living-Shadow always had a soft spot for fools.

Spying the girl's mother approaching, the ancient dragon glided away, ice blossoming across the placid waters as they returned to their frozen den.