Lucas, my shadow

This world was inherently unfair. Power belonged not to those who were right, but to those who had status. In the Middle Ages, a person without a title was considered dust beneath the boots of the nobility. Even magic couldn't save them—only a few of the common people could rise, and only if they possessed SS rank, the power to crush a dragon. Dragons, however, were revered as sacred creatures. Almost everyone. Except me.
I am a quiet elf beneath a dark cloak. I don't seek conversation, don't look people in the eye, and always keep to the shadows. People call me wizened, cold, strange. But no one knows that I am never alone.
He's always by my side—my reflection and my opposite. Evil, harsh, hating the world and even me. We constantly quarrel, like enemies forced to walk the same path. But we can't separate. We're bound by blood, souls, and ancient magic. As soon as one moves away, the other's strength begins to fade. The further we go, the weaker we become.
Our touch is both a curse and a salvation. When we hold hands, magic awakens with terrifying power. Only thus can we fight, only thus can we survive.
We were bound by the altars of the Elven Valley. He was born on the first, I on the second. On that day, he died... and was immediately reborn. Then our souls were intertwined forever.
We both hide under cloaks. Two elves. Two enemies. One force.
And in a world where we can't even protect ourselves from each other, this is the most brutal connection of all.