The salt spray stung Prometheus's face as he awoke on the unfamiliar shore. His body screamed in protest—a tapestry of raw burns marred his skin, a stark reminder of the inferno that had consumed his life. He remembered nothing, only the searing image of a black dragon's eyes, the crushing weight of its claws, and the terrifying plummet from the cliff edge of Penthos. His village, once a vibrant jewel on the island, now existed only as ashes in his memory.

Driven by a primal instinct, a burning ember of vengeance, Prometheus began to rebuild. He discovered his heritage—a long line of Penthos royalty, blessed and cursed by the island's unique promethium ore. This ore, mined for generations, had imbued his ancestors with extraordinary abilities: the power to manipulate shadows, to become one with the darkness itself. He found he possessed this power too, a flickering flame of hope in the darkness of his amnesia.

He gathered others who shared his thirst for justice, warriors and assassins scarred by the dragons' tyranny. From these broken souls, he forged The Shadows, a league dedicated to eradicating the dragons that plagued their world. Their armor, painstakingly crafted from promethium, was nearly indestructible, a testament to their unwavering resolve.

Under Prometheus's leadership, The Shadows became a force to be reckoned with. Their skills were honed to deadly perfection, their movements as silent and swift as the shadows they commanded. Occasionally, they accepted mercenary work, their silver earnings funding their true mission: the hunt for dragons. Prometheus, a master of shadow manipulation, shared his abilities with select members of his guild, transforming them into fearsome weapons of the night.

One moonless night, as Prometheus led his Shadows through the whispering forests, he felt a familiar pang of something akin to memory. A fleeting image—a burning village, a dragon's roar, a woman's face. His amnesia was slowly lifting, and with each recovered fragment of his past, his resolve strengthened. The dragons would pay for their crimes, and The Shadows would be the instruments of their retribution. Their legend was only beginning.