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As I sat across from Kael, I tried not to let my nerves show. He had allowed me out of his 'special lab' to acquire knowledge from people who needed a nudge of sorts to make them spill. His gaze was fixed on me, sharp as a blade. In Kaeloria, the smell of blood and sweat seemed to permeate everything. It felt as if the entire place reeked of desperation, from the crumbling bricks of this ancient hall to the faded tapestries that still bore battle stains. My fingers tightened around my cup, but I kept my face a careful mask.
"So," Kael finally said, his voice low and edged with disdain, "are you going to tell me who you really are, or will you continue this... charade?"
I shrugged, leaning back, crossing my arms as if the accusation were some joke. He seemed convinced of the validity of his thoughts about me and I was unsure how to play it. "I'm just a blood mage looking for work, like I said. Besides, have you forgotten that you brought me here? I know your men did but that was with your blessing. I am who I am. Maybe you should consider that you are trying to make me someone I am not. Did you lose a son or brother or something like that?"
Kael let out a mirthless laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Mistaken?" He leaned forward, closer, and I could almost feel the heat of his breath. "Don't insult me, 'Ash'. I've known you long enough to recognize you… and yet, I don't. So maybe," he continued, his tone sharpening, "you'll give me a reason not to throw you in the dungeons for trespassing on my good graces."
So I guess this is confirmation that he did not just randomly get me to serve under him. He knew the man I was supposed to be. Or he could just be trying to control the flow of my thoughts the old-fashioned way --without the use of magic. I gritted my teeth, keeping the act. "Throw me back into your dungeons, then. If you think I'm lying, do it. You know that wont change a thing. I don't have any way of deceiving you and also no reason to do so." My voice stayed calm, mocking even, though inside I felt like a bomb waiting to detonate. I needed time, time to learn what I could about the magic here, time to get a real grasp on who—or what—I'd become. If Kael saw through me now, I'd be dead before I could figure any of it out.
He was watching me carefully, his fingers tapping an uneven beat on the table, his eyes calculating. "It's strange, 'Ash'," he said slowly, "you're colder than I remember, and yet… somehow more afraid. You are you and yet you are very different."
The jab was too close for comfort. I bristled but held back. Instead, I played my hand, letting a sly smile creep onto my face. "Perhaps you're losing your touch, Kael. Could it be you're just getting paranoid?"
Kael's face darkened. He took a deliberate sip of his wine, then slammed the cup down, hard. "Enough games." He spat. "You may think you're clever, but I see right through you. You're nothing but a weak imitation of the Ash I once knew."
"You want me to be some shadow of the past?" I scoffed. "Maybe it's you who needs to let go of memories."
He leaned in, and the menace in his voice was unmistakable. "Ash Blackwood would never have talked like that. He was fierce, fearless, and a nightmare on the battlefield. You sit there like a pampered merchant, playing it safe and slick."
I felt the fire rising in my chest, and I fought to tamp it down. But suddenly, memories—vivid, violent—flooded me. Images of battles I'd never seen, blood splattering in slow motion as enemies fell under my hands. I remembered the crushing heat of those moments, felt the blood-slicked dirt beneath my feet, the way Ash—no, *I*—had killed without a second thought.
I snapped back to the present with a jolt, my chest tight, heart pounding like a drum. My voice came out ragged, catching me off guard. "You don't know me, Kael. Maybe you did once, but not now."
Kael's eyes narrowed at my tone, his posture shifting. "You think I can't recognize the stench of cowardice? Don't play me, *Adrian*."
At the sound of that name, something in me froze. Adrian. Not Ash. For a fleeting second, I saw myself, my real self—game designer, CEO, a guy who'd just wanted to beat a set of odds, not massacre a room of strangers. I needed to figure out how to keep Kael from ripping me to pieces, but I needed the truth even more.
Kael hadn't missed my reaction. A cold smirk settled on his face. "Who are you, then?" he pressed, voice low. "A ghost? Or something more pathetic, a lost lamb in wolf's clothing?"
I stayed silent, measuring my words. "I am Ash Blackwood," I replied, trying to sound as certain as I could. "Whatever you think you know, maybe I've changed. You think you know the nature of power, Kael, but maybe you don't know the first thing about me now."
He glared at me, his expression unreadable, then barked a harsh laugh. "Do you take me for a fool? You expect me to believe you've simply changed? That the man who once stood by my side, a terror in his own right, would become *this*?"
The cold venom in his words didn't go unnoticed, but I knew I had to keep control. "Change is part of power, Kael. Or are you too busy playing lord to remember what it's like to adapt?"
Kael's eyes flashed, and he slammed his fist down on the table, making my wine cup rattle. "Is that how you talk to me now?" he spat. "Mockery? Insolence?" He stood up, leaning over the table. "Tell me something, Ash, if you are indeed him. What is the Blood Price?"
My mind raced. The Blood Price… I'd heard fragments about it in conversations, something sinister and high-stakes, but I hadn't pieced it together yet. "You're asking a stupid question, Kael," I said, buying time. "If you think I'm a fraud, prove it."
He stared at me for a long, tense moment, his gaze turning calculating. "Perhaps I will. Perhaps, Ash, it's time you show me you can still wield that *legendary* blood magic of yours."
"Blood magic? You want a demonstration?" I laughed, covering the pulse of dread gnawing at me. "Fine. Give me a task, and I'll make it look like child's play."
A grin spread across Kael's face, slow and cruel. "Oh, I have just the thing in mind. I want you to summon your former *gift*. Call on the shadows and blood as you used to—reanimate a corpse from nothing. No thralls, no tricks."
My mind raced, hiding my immediate panic under a layer of contempt. "You'd waste a corpse just to satisfy some itch of yours?"
Kael's smile was thin as a knife. "Oh, I can assure you, I have plenty of corpses to spare. So why don't you show me this 'changed' power of yours?" He paused, eyes drilling into mine. "Or… perhaps you'll admit that you're a fraud."
I forced a smile, ignoring the drop in my stomach. "Get your corpse. I'll give you a show you won't forget."
Kael's smirk remained fixed as he motioned to one of the guards. "Bring one of the traitors," he ordered, and the guard vanished from the room.
I clenched my fists under the table, every second stretching thin as I tried to keep my breathing steady. I wasn't sure I had the skill to pull off a full reanimation, but I couldn't show weakness. Not now.
Finally, the guard returned, dragging in a lifeless body with all the elegance of a sack of grain. The man was freshly dead, his eyes still half-open in a last expression of horror.
"There's your subject," Kael said, waving his hand dismissively. "Unless, of course, the great Ash Blackwood has forgotten how to resurrect his prey."
I approached the body, my mind swirling. I had to focus, to remember what little I'd gleaned about blood magic, to give Kael a taste of something close enough to what he remembered. I knelt down, placing my hands over the body's chest, pretending confidence I barely felt.
As I closed my eyes, another rush of memories struck, a brutal flood of violence and control. I saw Ash in battle again, watched his hands twist in the air, his voice low and commanding, and suddenly I was chanting words I didn't recognize, didn't understand. The words tasted like metal on my tongue, bitter and unfamiliar, yet they felt right.
Heat prickled along my fingertips, sinking into the corpse below me. Its eyes flickered open, and a shudder went through the body, a ripple of animation. Kael stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
"Yes," he hissed, voice barely above a whisper. "There it is. There's the Ash I knew."
I pressed harder, pouring every last ounce of energy into the corpse. Slowly, it moved, struggling to sit up, limbs twitching as if waking from a nightmare. I felt a sharp, searing pain in my chest, like something was being wrenched from me. My breath hitched, and I nearly broke concentration, but I kept going, forcing the dead man's body into a crude, awkward life.
"That enough proof for you?" I managed, fighting the growing strain.
Kael laughed, a deep, satisfied rumble. "A little weak," he said, tilting his head. "But yes, I'll grant you this much—you haven't lost all your talent."
The corpse sagged forward, motionless again. I released my hold, barely managing to keep my face neutral as I felt the last traces of energy slip away. Kael's gaze lingered on me, his eyes calculating, ruthless.
"One final
question, Ash," he said, voice low. "Are you loyal?"
I didn't blink. "To those who earn it."
He laughed softly. "Good answer." His gaze turned deadly serious. "Then I suggest you earn your loyalty with something more impressive next time."
And with that, he strode out of the room, leaving me with a dead corpse at my feet and the cold weight of his ultimatum echoing in my ears.