Before the darkness carved his name into fear, Senzuur was a child of the high canopies—born of wind and melody, like all Caelyran. His laughter once chased through the silver branches of Lundoon, where the Elders taught him the disciplines of Sight and Balance. Even as a youth, he saw more than others wished to see. He discerned truth too sharply, felt pain too deeply. The Elders said he would one day be a Keeper of Harmony.
But harmony never came.
On the Night of Shadows, when the rift tore open between worlds, Senzuur was among those taken. A boyfey of twelve summers, spirited from light into the depths of Uunglarda. The Integration stripped his body first, then his mind, flaying all tenderness from him until only instinct and endurance remained. Yet within the core of his being, beneath the scars and silence, something glimmered still. The memory of Light.
He grew into a weapon. His captors taught him to obey, to strike, to sever without question. But they could not erase what was woven into him by birth: compassion. He hid it carefully, a forbidden flame, fanning it only in secret, when no one could see. Others broke beside him, friends, brothers-in-arms, the soft-hearted who could not bear the screams, but Senzuur endured. He learned to bend without breaking.
In time, his strength drew attention. He was elevated to the rank of Demonfey, one of the enforcers tasked with keeping order among the Shadowbound legions. To those beneath him, he appeared ruthless, precise, unfeeling. Yet in the secrecy of his own mind, he bore every name of those he had lost, and whispered them like prayers before sleep.
Among the Shadowbound, whispers persist that Senzuur’s eyes burn red not from corruption, but from the reflection of the Light he still guards within. His loyalty to Uxvagchtr is an act of survival, not devotion. His true allegiance lies with those who still dream of dawn but dare not speak of it.
They call him the Last Light of the Watchers.
He calls himself nothing at all. But when the dark corridors fall silent, and the torches gutter low, some swear they hear his voice; a soft vow drifting like smoke:
“You will not take the last of us. Not while I breathe.”
From the depths of shadow, a spark still remembers the Light.
The Shadowbound — Book One of The Riftborn Trilogy — is a darkly poetic fantasy of redemption, empathy, and forbidden connection. When the boundaries between light and shadow blur, mercy becomes rebellion, and even the fallen may yet find their way home.
Coming Spring 2026.
~ Morgan C. Morgan
Writer of light, shadow, and the stories between.
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BooknVolume 
It is difficult to erase the Light from one who has seen it.
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YES! This is the entire message behind The Shadowbound 😀
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