Legacy of the Dark

Nathaniel "Nate" Archer breathed in the crisp morning air on the porch of his wooden house, a simple dwelling situated on the outskirts of a small, tranquil town, far from the chaos and noise of the world he once knew. This morning was like every other morning of the past two years—quiet, peaceful, and filled with a simplicity that soothed his soul. After twenty years of living in the shadows, Nate had found solace in this routine, a life far removed from the death and mayhem that once defined him.

He sipped his steaming black coffee while gazing at the trees whose leaves were beginning to yellow, a sign that autumn had arrived. Warm sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, creating patterns of light on the ground. In the distance, birds chirped, singing their morning songs. Nate exhaled deeply, savoring a moment of peace that felt almost foreign to him. This peace was the reward of his hard work—and of the many lives he had taken to reach this point.

But Nate had always known that this peace was fragile, as thin as paper that could tear at any moment. He just didn’t know when that moment would come. Until that day.

Night fell quickly, bringing with it a silence only broken by the sound of insects in the surrounding woods. Nate had grown accustomed to this silence, even come to appreciate it. After a simple dinner, he sat in the living room, reading an old book he had found in a second-hand bookstore in town. But his mind kept drifting back to the world he had left behind, the shadows of his past that occasionally disturbed his tranquility.

When a soft knock came at the front door, Nate put his book down, momentarily frozen. Who would come at this hour? He rarely received visitors, and no one knew his address besides a few people from his past—people who had also disappeared into the shadows like him. The knock came again, this time louder.

Nate stood up, cautiously making his way to the door. His instincts as a former hitman kicked in, even though another part of him tried to stay calm. Maybe it was just a neighbor in need of help, he thought. But something inside him whispered otherwise.

When he opened the door, there was no one there. Only the cold night air greeted him. But his eyes quickly fell on a small package left on the doorstep. There was no sender's name, no address, just a simple brown wrapping. Nate crouched down and picked up the package, feeling its unusual weight, as if there was something inside it more than just ordinary items.

Gently closing the door, Nate brought the package to the coffee table in the living room. He unwrapped it cautiously, every movement imbued with the wariness of a man who knew too well that the world was full of traps. As the last layer of wrapping came off, Nate found a thick envelope and a photograph inside.

The photograph made him freeze. There, in sharp black-and-white, was an image of him—Nathaniel Archer, dressed in all black with a cold expression, holding a pistol over the body of a lifeless man. It was him from years ago, on his last mission before he decided to disappear. This photo was never supposed to exist. There were no witnesses, no cameras. It was a mission carried out in total darkness, under everyone's radar.

Nate felt a chill run down his spine. He opened the envelope and found several more photos. All were records of different missions, each showing Nate in action, as the Shadow, a moniker he had earned for never leaving a trace. But this? This was a very clear trace, as if someone had been following him for years, documenting his every move.

With trembling hands, Nate reached for the final piece of paper in the envelope—a small note with neat, cold handwriting: *"Welcome back, Shadow. We’ll meet again soon."*

Nate stared at the words, the growing unease in him transforming into real fear. He stood up from his chair, his eyes quickly scanning the room, looking for signs of a hidden threat. His house suddenly felt smaller, more confined, and the peace he had enjoyed for so long turned into a trap that ensnared him.

The sudden ring of the phone shattered the silence, making Nate jump. He stared at his phone lying on the table, the screen displaying an unknown number. His instincts told him not to answer, but curiosity overpowered caution. With a deep breath, Nate swiped the screen to accept the call.

“Who is this?” he demanded, his voice harsher than he intended.

“Someone you know well, Nate,” replied the voice on the other end, cold and laced with an undercurrent of threat. “I know where you are. And I know what you want: peace. But that peace is over. You know that, don’t you?”

Nate remained silent, his mind racing to identify the voice. There was nothing familiar, but the threat was clear.

“I don’t know who you are, but you’ll regret if—”

“Oh, I think not,” the voice cut in calmly. “This is a game that started long ago, Nate. And now, it’s your move.”

Before Nate could respond, the call disconnected, leaving him in an oppressive silence. He stared at the now-dark screen, then back at the photos scattered on the table.

Slowly, Nate felt something he hadn’t in a long time—the urge to fight, to hunt, to return to the shadows he had tried so hard to leave behind. But this time, he didn’t know who his enemy was. And that was more terrifying than anything he had faced before.

With a sudden decision, Nate grabbed his black coat, secured a gun at his waist, and opened the back door of his house. He decided not to wait for the threat to come knocking again. If someone was hunting him, he would be the one to start the hunt.

The cold night air greeted him as he stepped outside, his shadow stretching long under the moonlight. For the first time in two years, Nate felt like himself again—a man born from darkness, now returning to it to find out who dared to disturb the peace he had fought for with blood and lives.

And this time, Nate swore, he would leave no trace.

***