AN: I decided to go ahead and post the first chapter of this story, because this is a story that I am legitimately excited about it. I hope you all appreciate it :)

Chapter 1 The Shadowlings

It was dark. The moon refused to shed its light on this evil night, and the wind was screeching in terror. It's coldness only served as a reminder of the chilling fear that had decided to haunt it. The wind rammed its head against a building on the edge of Thwompville. In its desperation, it managed to open one of the windows and send a gust through the candlelit interior of the building.

Unfortunately, just as soon as it got in, the window was slammed shut in its face. The cultist who shut the wind out turned back toward his brethren. All of them were wearing robes as black as an unkindness. Their faces were concealed by the unnatural shadows created by their hoods. The leader held a candle in his hands as he stood directly in front of the rest of the cult. Directly behind him laid a pentagram.

"My friends," said the cult leader with a whispery voice. "My brothers and sisters. Her great majesty, the Shadow Queen, would be exuberant to know that you have all joined me in this great endeavor."

The cult members, with their arms crossed, all said in a low, monotone whisper:

"Long live the Shadow Queen."

The cult leader smiled and raised his candle. The smoke and scent carried throughout the room, filling the nostrils of the cultists. They each grinned in delight. The leader lowered his candle and placed it in a holder on the floor. He then picked up a book with a blood red cover.

"Her majesty has seen the works that you have done," said the leader. He opened the book and sent dust spraying everywhere as he flipped through the pages. Despite this, the cultists did not sneeze. "And she is greatly pleased. Her gratitude towards you as her followers knows no bounds."

The leader placed his hand right in the middle of the book and chanted in an old, forgotten language. When he was done, the encryptions on the paper began to glow with an eerie purple light. The cultists were enveloped by the same aura. They laughed, despite the fact that each of their bodies had been overtaken by shuddering.

"But now, my brethren," said the leader as he closed the book, "it is time. Her majesty has sent me a message through the stars." A somber, saddened look appeared in his eyes. "With both her and her dark prince sealed away in the deepest of dimensions, they cannot practice their will upon this world." He sighed. "Woe to the queen."

"And woe to the prince," the cultists chanted back. The sad look in the eyes of the cult leader only increased.

"How we long to revive the dark Prince. How we long to know his name. How we long to see our majesty face to face!"

"Indeed. Woe to us, the empty vessels," the cultists chanted back. The leader's rose-pink lips began to curve upwards into a smile.

"No need for such woe. We have wallowed in our woes for long enough, my brethren. For now, it is time. Her majesty has set aside new minions for us to serve as vessels for." The leader turned and faced the silvery blue pentagram. He picked up the book and candle. Placing the book right in the center of the star, he threw the candle on top of it. The book started to burn with a yellow orange flame. The leader cast a grin toward his cult.

"Join me, brethren!" The cultists obeyed and formed a circle around the pentagram. They joined hands with one another and faced the flickering fire. They started to chant in unison, their voices rising in volume the further along they went.

"As vessels we come, as vessels we serve, until we see that day. How sad is the world who had the nerve to lock our Queen away."

With that, the fire grew to fill the pentagram. The cultists watched in awe as the light shifted from orange to green, from purple to red. The crackling produced by the flames also shifted in tone. It sounded like a baby crying, an orchestral chant, a woman screaming. Some of the cultists gripped each other's hands even tighter. The leader, however, managed to keep the grin from falling off his face.

"Come forth, Shadowlings! We wish to serve as vessels for you!"

The fire shifted one last time. Right in the center of it appeared to be a pair of milky white eyes. Then two pairs, then four. Hundreds of eyes peeked out from the fire, evaluating the cult members. Before any of them knew what was going on, meteor like cinders started to shoot out of the flames. These cinders landed on the faces of the cultists, causing some of them to scream and writhe in agony at the burning hot touch. The leader, however, just smiled. When his time came to be touched by the flame, he accepted it with open arms.

Finally, the fire died down. The room was dead silent, illuminated by candlelight once again. The cultists exchanged looks with one another. Each one of them now had glowing white eyes. They gave each other smiles in the most chilling of ways.

"Her majesty has truly blessed us," said one. The leader chuckled.

"That she has." While it still sounded like the cult leader's voice, it also sounded much more sinister than before. It sounded conniving, cunning, and dark. "Such beautiful bodies she has selected for us."

The other Shadowlings nodded in agreement. Some even went so far as to laugh like lunatics. The one occupying the body of the cult leader hugged himself, rubbing his arms like they were special.

"Now," he said. "We have a job to do." He looked toward the door. "Her majesty wants us to bring despair to the Mushroom World. And now...now is finally our time to do so."

The Shadowlings nodded. They started to make their way out the door and into the night.