Stories are ultimately what any TTRPG builds. Sometimes, a single concept is enough to inspire a story on its own. This story was based off the Shuyet, which you can find [HERE]

His breath quivered. He swallowed, hard, and knocked on the door twice. He waited for a few heartbeats for a reply that didn't come, then opened the door and went inside.

Upon seeing the candle-lit room, he gritted his teeth. Even this was too bright. His shoulders tensed, and a creeping anxiety demanded he move away.

"Come on... work with me here," he whispered through his teeth, "We won't get anywhere if I act like a damned vampire. They'll kill us both."

As he took a deep breath, the pressure in his mind eased a little bit. He slowly walked closer to the desk. A stack of neatly-organized documents laid on the desk, the one on top bearing a rising sun in its seal - the symbol of Lathander. Though he still grimaced at the candles, the documents were a bigger concern right now.

If the head inquisitor read them, he was dead. Or so he presumed. They were likely the mission report that resulted in his rescue.

Trouble was, they had been too late.

"I... I can't read this," he hissed, his eyes scanning the page. "Hells. No, no, no... damnit. It-it's not in Common." he went through the page two more times, trying to latch onto anything that would give him a clue as the panic began to rise once more. "Help. You can see what I see, right? Then help me."

A few seconds passed. Then, his eyes clouded briefly. He felt what the shadow felt - annoyance towards himself, fear towards the light, but most important, a desire to survive.

"Sylvan script. Elvish. This is the report, but there's too much detail. Stealing a page won't be enough. Get rid of it."

The command made his mind stagger briefly. He cursed under his breath. He couldn't have much time left. What could he do? Steal the documents? If he was caught with them, there was no good excuse. He squinted, still recoiling from the much-too-bright candles. The candles... Burn it. Yes. They were fairly close. It could look like an accident.

The idea of causing an even brighter fire didn't feel good, but that was the best option. He held one of the candles. If he did this, there was no turning back.

He closed his eyes, and let the candle's flame reach the stack. Then, he dropped it, finally listening to the instincts that told him to get away. To run as far as possible.

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His name was Kythos, and he was having the worst week of his life.

It started three days prior. The grey tiefling was visiting his grandmother's tomb - it was the anniversary of her passing, and he never had missed visiting her. As much as he resented his infernal heritage (and the stern looks and snide comments that this brought in such a remote village), he would never hold it against her. Halfway through the visit, however, it all went sideways. The earth began to stir, and otherworldly groans emerged from beneath as the dead tried to claw their way out of their coffins.

Some bloody necromancer had decided to terrorize their otherwise peaceful village, it seemed. Or, more likely, was going through a list of graveyards to ransack for corpses to use. Nonetheless, Kythos hadn't thought twice before cowering his way to the now open crypt. He was no hero. No adventurer either. As he skulked through the hallways, painfully aware of his own breathing and every noise he made, he managed to find a hiding spot. 

A side chamber. The residents had already gotten out, it seemed. He thought it was good enough - he could lay low until the insane mage moved on or was swiftly defeated by the hyper-vigilant inquisitors of the Seventh Zenith. It was ironic, in a way. He had always expected the zealots to string him up and execute him for having horns, disrespecting the Morninglord or sneezing the wrong way, and now they seemed like his most likely salvation. They had to be good for something, after all, right?

For two days, the man remained as still as he could, trying his best to keep himself sane. If he starved to death, then at least they wouldn't need to bury him. Or maybe his corpse would get up and attempt to take vengeance on the useless clerics that took too long.

He knew the undead were still about. He could hear the movement, if he strained his ears. They were oddly consistent - the clattering of bone against stone, moving in patrol in a fixed route. Fifteen paces closer, ten seconds of silence, and fifteen paces farther. He had started to use the sound to measure time, which was when he first thought he'd lose his mind.

But at one point, the clattering stopped mid-pace. What followed was a loud roar of flame, and a burst of light in the distance. Salvation, at last!

As he strained his eyes, however, he noticed something was fleeing from his presumed saviors. A being of pure shadow slithered through the floor, stopped, then resumed with every blast of light that illuminated the end of the corridor. It was like a puddle of ink, except in the vague shape of a humanoid.

The tiefling sat back in the alcove where he had been hiding, and stilled his breath. His body refused to move, even as he felt the room feel colder. Even as he sensed the shadow creep closer. His heartbeat felt loud. Louder. Deafening. And then-

Light.

A sphere of light manifested in the room, illuminating the creature and blinding Kythos. He groaned in pain, and as he opened his mouth... something crawled inside. He coughed and heaved, his eyes still closed. He heard voices, though he struggled to understand. He couldn't breathe. Something was inside him, magnifying his fear. He heard a shout, and then passed out.

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When he came to, he was laying on a bed.

The room was dark. He saw nobody else, but he wasn't alone. He could feel something was off - like a foreign presence was clouding his mind. He went through the last few things he remembered, and panicked. Something had crawled inside him. The thought alone made him deeply uncomfortable. He heaved and coughed, trying to retch it out, to no avail. Help, he needed help. A cleric would know, maybe-

"Stop."

There had been no sound. But he felt the word in his mind. Immediately, he felt his emotions dim - from panic and fear to mild irritation.

"They'll kill you if you tell them," the voice said, "And then they'll kill me."

Kythos clicked his tongue with irritation. Of course he had been possessed by some sentient spirit. And of course it was saying whatever it had to in order to survive. But... the invader wasn't wrong. Lathander was said to be a nice, warm god of sunshine and babies, but the Seventh Zenith was far from that. They were zealots that only care about the purity of light and rooting out all things they considered evil. They barely tolerated tieflings as a whole. He wasn't keen on giving them another excuse to 'purify' him, but what choice did he have? If that thing put himself or others in danger...

He took a deep breath.

"Who are you?" he asked, "And what do you want?"

There was a pause. Then, he felt a tug in his mind, and the presence spoke once more.

"I am what remains. The shadow of a man who lost body and soul. Your kind calls me a shuyet." He felt something else. A sense of pride and indignation as he first spoke. "I want to live. And I want vengeance."

Ah, so it was an evil spirit after all. Or something of the sort.

"...Right. So, are you gonna wear my body to go around and butcher people? It's not a great choice. I've got weak arms," Kythos scoffed. He couldn't believe his luck. Two days of waiting in a tomb, and then he ends up possessed...

"No. I cannot control you. But you will still help."

He waited for some elaboration. When it didn't come, he raised an eyebrow.

"...Or I could drain your life essence and kill you instead."

Ah, there it was.

"Right. Well, as I said, I'd be a rather bad tool of vengeance, so you might as well go ahead and do that already." His voice shook slightly as he spoke. Was that how he was going to go...? What a miserable life.

"You do not mean that. I can feel what you feel. You are scared. You are a coward. That is good. That might keep us alive," it continued. "It won't be as simple as bloody murder. Revenge is more than that. But for now, you are starving, so eat. A man left food in the table there."

Once again, it was correct. He was a coward. He didn't argue any further, and instead looked to the table. He didn't feel hungry, though he was fully aware he needed to eat something. He got up, feeling a little dizzy, and approached the table. 'Food' felt only like a technicality, as it was cold gruel, but he ate nonetheless.

He sensed some satisfaction that wasn't entirely his. Damn shadow thing was glad that he didn't struggle too much, he guessed.

"What's your name?" he muttered as he ate in the dark.

"I have none. The soul kept it. But if you must call me something... call me Nadir."

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After finishing his meal, he got up and headed out of the room. The corridors were dark, so it was most likely nighttime. Nonetheless, his kind could see fine in low light conditions, so it wasn't much of an issue. As he wandered the halls, he finally understood where he was: the upper rooms of the local temple, where the priests slept and allowed the wounded or sick to stay.

In other circumstances, that would be fine. Right now, it felt dangerous, however. If he intended to keep his new 'friend' a secret, he would be better off avoiding anyone that knew much about spirits and the undead. 

As he considered his escape, he saw a light approaching from the hallway. It was dim - a candle, from the looks of it, but something about it unnerved him. More than the prospect of talking to someone. He looked back, considering running away, but that would just appear more suspicious. Therefore, he took a deep breath and remained still, going through what excuses to make.

"Oh! Is that you, Kythos? You're awake!" He recognized the voice. Leander, a large but kind young human who assisted the local cleric. He was relatively young, still in his late 20s. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"I'm... I'm fine," the tiefling lied, recoiling slightly from the candle. It looked so painfully bright this close. "Just a bit shaken. How long was I gone for?"

"About three days? You were brought in at about noon, and you've been unconscious since. It must have been terrifying, being stuck there... you should get some rest, though," he said, looking at him up and down. "You look terrible. No offense."

"I've had a long nap already. I'll be more comfortable at home."

"Mmh... I think you should stay, at least for a day or two. Just to make sure there's no lingering issues, curses or something like that. You never know with these things." The man's smile was warm, but it left no room for argument. "Go back to bed, and I'll check on you in the morning. Besides, someone wants to talk to you. An inquisitor came over to get reports on the incident."

Kythos froze. Being questioned by an inquisitor was the exact kind of thing that would get him killed. He was done for. Unless he ran. No, that would be way too suspicious. And in his state, he wouldn't get very far if they chased him down. Inquisitors had serious spells at their disposal - the kind that could find people, force them to tell the truth, or incinerate the guilty.

If he talked about Nadir, he was dead. If he didn't, he would be discovered. If he ran, he would be found.

"I... would rather not talk to an inquisitor," he said after a few seconds. "No offense, but your order hates me just for having horns. You're the only one that doesn't treat me like a fiend. So I'd be very, very uncomfortable talking to someone who actively hunts for demons."

Leander gave him an apologetic look, and sighed softly.

"Yeah... that's fair. Sorry. Alright, how about I do the questions instead, tomorrow morning? It won't be an interrogation, of course. Just getting your side of things, to make a report. Would that be alright?"

For a brief moment, Kythos felt hope. As if the gentle giant of a man he was talking to had restored beauty and warmth into a cold, uncaring world.

"I suppose," he said. "...Thank you."

"No problem. Now, get some rest. You're safe now." He looked like he meant it.

Kythos turned away, heading back to his room. He didn't dare feel safe, not yet. Not while the shadow in his mind prodded him to avoid the light at all costs.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When morning came, the tiefling woke up with a start. Though the window in his room was mostly closed, a small gap allowed for sunlight to shine through. Almost by instinct, he shut it close, and sat on his bed gasping for air.

"Hells is wrong with me?" he asked. It felt like any sort of light would expose him. Like it'd reveal his condition, and ring the alarm. There was no doubt that it was thanks to his uninvited guest. "What are you doing to me? This isn't helping."

"I'm a mere shadow. I cannot exist in the light for long." Nadir hissed in his mind. "Would you put your hand in the fire, even if a living, fleshy coat protected you?"

Kythos blinked twice at the comparison. That's what he was now, a living fleshy coat against... light.

"Either way, don't give me your phobia. How suspicious is it gonna look if I recoil from the light all the time? And how would we even go outside?" he asked. "Why do I feel what YOU feel anyway?"

"It's in my nature. I am the negative space. That which one hides, and what is left unsaid. All the feelings one is ashamed of. Fear. Wrath. Pride. My presence will make you feel what the person I used to be did, and reinforce that which you hide." 

"Fantastic. So you didn't get therapy when you were alive and bitter and now I have to pay for it." Kythos huffed.

"As if you'd ever open up to anyone."

The tiefling exhaled in disbelief, then laughed.

"Well, damn. My shadow parasite is sassing me now. That's a new low." He shook his head and got up from his bed. "...Guess I'll just keep digging."

It took an hour until he heard a knock on the door. Leander came in, carrying another bowl of gruel which he placed on the table. The tiefling did his best not to recoil at the light coming from the hallway.

"Good morning! My, it is dark in here. Were you sleeping?" The man gave him a sheepish smile.

"I... have been struggling with bright lights a bit. After spending a long time in the dark, it all feels a bit blinding." He had been considering that excuse for a while. It wasn't ideal, but seemed reasonable enough.

"Right, that's fair. I'll keep lights dim, then, though I do need to write things down." He took a few writing supplies down from a satchel, as well as a candle that he lit up before closing the door. "I'm used to doing this at late night, so it's no issue really. Rather enjoy the ambience."

Kythos nodded and grabbed the bowl of gruel. As there was only one chair, he sat on the bed as he ate. Though he had been a bit nervous at first, Leandre's demeanor put him somewhat at ease. It felt less like an interrogation that might get him killed when he was sitting on a bed eating gruel.

"Right, then. How did you end up in the crypt?" the cleric asked.

Kythos gave the man a somewhat embellished version of the story - making himself seem more cunning and less like he was running and hiding for his life. For a moment, he was tempted to reveal the truth. To say that he had been possessed by a shuyet. The man was kind, surely he'd keep it off the record and help.

Right?

"...I'm afraid I don't remember anything else. I panicked, thinking that whatever brought the lights and explosions was going to kill me too, and blacked out."

"Ah, I see. That's alright. The adventurers that rescued you gave me their version of the events earlier," Leandre said with a nod.

"...Adventurers? It wasn't the Zenith?" The tiefling frowned. What good were those zealots if they didn't even take care of these things themselves?

"As it was an urgent matter, the order decided to hire a group that was nearby rather than wait for inquisitors to arrive." The man seemed very uncomfortable out of a sudden. He sighed. "...The Seventh Zenith will cover half of the costs, of course, but I'm afraid that you must provide the other half. About one thousand pieces of gold."

Kythos stared at the man in stunned silence.

"You... you're serious." He felt something bitter in his mouth. "What... no. How do they even expect me to pay for that? I couldn't afford that much silver, let alone gold!"

"I... sympathize. They, of course, are aware of this. In these cases, the fee can sometimes be paid by offering a service or land for an amount of time. Like allowing your home to be used as quarters for members of the order, or serving the local chapter." Leandros' smile had vanished. He knew how bad either option was. "...I'm sorry."

The tiefling remained quiet.

"I... should let you rest. I'll finish the report and send it over tomorrow." he said, rushing to gather his things. "Um, I've been pretty busy on my own, but let me know if you need me."

He didn't respond, even as the cleric left the room. He had nothing to say. And soon, nothing to his name either. Nadir was the one who broke the silence.

"...That report might be trouble for us. The rescue party saw me before I found you. They might have mentioned it," the shade said. "They took everything from me, as well."

The tiefling chuckled.

"You want revenge, right, Nadir?" he asked. "Then let's make a pact."

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Kythos stood on a hill, watching his old home be engulfed by flames.

The fire had spread more than he anticipated. He hadn't intended to cause more damage than he needed to, but to take any responsibility would be to lay down his life. He had regrets, of course. Leandros deserved better than this. And not all of his neighbors were that bad. But he had to move on.

Perhaps it was better this way. To not have anything to make him look back.

He turned around and began to walk. The weather was mercifully overcast, but he would likely travel at night from that point onwards. The path would be long. One couldn't dismantle a religious order in a day, after all.

Strangely, he felt something warm in his chest. Despite the weight of his actions, despite having nothing but his life and a shadow, despite facing an impossible goal ahead... he felt hope. Purpose.

Despite himself, he smiled.

"Soon the sun will set."