Kalyndraxis paced the clearing, his golden eyes glinting with frustration. The pendant shimmered faintly in his clawed hand, its chaotic energy barely restrained by his magic. The air was heavy with the stench of blood and charred earth, a silent witness to the dragon's struggle.
"Still quiet?" Kalyndraxis muttered, his voice sharp with irritation.
"Not surprising. Sepulcher always sends me to deal with his messes."
He stared at the pendant, its swirling energies pulsating faintly against his claws. Every pulse felt like a heartbeat, erratic, alive, mocking him.
"Why does he care so much about this trinket?" Kalyndraxis growled.
"What's in it that makes him hover like a scavenger over my shoulder?"
As if on cue, the disembodied voice of Sepulcher filled the air, smooth and calculated.
"I heard that, Kalyndraxis."
The dragon flinched, his claws tightening around the pendant instinctively. He hissed, turning toward the sound.
"Stop skulking like a ghost, Sepulcher!" Kalyndraxis snarled.
"If you want something done, then do it yourself."
Sepulcher materialized with a low hum, his form phasing into existence from the shadows. His pale face was illuminated by the pendant's faint glow, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"Ah, Kalyndraxis," Sepulcher drawled, ignoring the dragon's obvious disdain.
"You misunderstand. I'm here to oversee, not intervene. Delegation is key, after all."
The dragon let out a low, rumbling growl. His claws dug into the dirt as he struggled to contain his fury.
"You speak of delegation," Kalyndraxis spat, his voice dripping with venom.
"But all you do is manipulate. You send me to retrieve your baubles, fight your battles, and clean your messes."
Sepulcher's thin smile widened. "I would call it 'partnership.'"
"Partnership?" Kalyndraxis laughed bitterly, his teeth bared in a mocking grin.
"Chains disguised as favors. And yet, you think me blind to your games."
The dragon's tail lashed violently, and for a brief moment, his aura flared, a golden blaze of wrath.
Sepulcher raised a single brow, unimpressed. "If you have complaints, I suggest you file them with the void. It listens better than I do."
Kalyndraxis' patience snapped. In a blur of movement, the dragon lunged at Sepulcher, his claws slicing through the air with lethal intent. The ground trembled beneath his weight as he aimed to strike the man who had shackled him for centuries.
Sepulcher didn't move.
The dragon's claw stopped inches from Sepulcher's face, frozen in place by an invisible force. Sepulcher tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
"Really, Kalyndraxis?" Sepulcher said, his tone laced with mockery.
"How many times must I remind you of your place?"
The dragon snarled, struggling against the unseen barrier. His muscles strained, but the force holding him back was absolute.
"Let me go!" Kalyndraxis roared, his voice shaking the trees.
Sepulcher's cold laugh echoed in the clearing. "Temper tantrums don't suit you, my dear dragon."
The pressure increased, forcing Kalyndraxis to step back. The dragon seethed, his chest heaving with unspent fury.
"One day," Kalyndraxis growled, his voice low and dangerous.
"One day, I will end you."
Sepulcher smirked, stepping closer. "And until that day, you'll keep obeying, won't you?"
Kalyndraxis glared at him, his golden eyes burning with hatred. But he didn't respond.
As Kalyndraxis returned to his task, Sepulcher lingered, watching the dragon with a faint sense of amusement.
Such raw power, he thought, his gaze following the golden glow of Kalyndraxis' aura. And yet, so bound by emotion. A shame, really.
He studied the pendant in Kalyndraxis' hand, his expression darkening.
The pendant is awakening faster than anticipated, Sepulcher mused. Its chaos will spiral out of control soon. If even Kalyndraxis struggles to contain it, then I may have underestimated the risk.
For a moment, doubt flickered in his mind, a rare and unwelcome visitor.
And what if it rejects me? No. It won't. It can't.
He pushed the thought aside, his lips curling into a thin smile.
"Do hurry, Kalyndraxis," Sepulcher said aloud, his voice cutting through the silence.
"We wouldn't want the boy's sacrifice to be in vain."
Kalyndraxis ignored Sepulcher's jab, focusing on the pendant in his grasp. He closed his eyes, drawing on ancient dragon magic. Golden runes began to form in the air around him, their light shimmering with power.
The casting was delicate, complex layers of symbols interwoven with precision. Each rune pulsed as Kalyndraxis infused it with his magic, binding the pendant's chaotic energy. Sweat beaded on his brow as he worked, his breath coming in steady, measured intervals.
Control it, he thought, his mind a steel trap. Contain it. You are a dragon. You are above chaos.
The pendant fought back, its energy lashing out like a living thing. Sparks of raw magic crackled in the air, but Kalyndraxis held firm.
"I will not be undone by a trinket," he growled through gritted teeth.
Finally, the last rune snapped into place, encasing the pendant in a cocoon of golden light. The chaotic energy within seemed to settle, its once-erratic pulses slowing to a steady rhythm.
"It's done," Kalyndraxis muttered, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He held the pendant up, studying it with wary eyes.
But as he lowered his hand, the pendant flared again, its chaotic energy surging against the seal. Kalyndraxis cursed, tightening his grip.
"Still fighting, are you?" he growled.
"You'll break before I do."
Two hours later, Celm's consciousness stirred.
Pain was the first thing he noticed a dull, throbbing ache that pulsed through his entire being.
His thoughts were fragmented, disjointed. Where am I? What happened?
Memories trickled back like water through cracked stone. The dragon. The fight. The pendant.
His eyes fluttered open, but his body refused to move. He lay in the sea of blood, his broken form slowly knitting itself back together.
Why am I still alive? Celm thought, his mind swirling with confusion and dread. I should be dead. I was... torn apart.
As the minutes dragged on, sensation returned to his limbs. He flexed his fingers experimentally, wincing as sharp pain shot through his hand.
"What is happening to me?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.
He forced himself to sit up, his movements slow and deliberate. The sea of blood stretched out before him, its crimson waves lapping at the edges of his vision.
"This place," he muttered.
"It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from."
He looked down at his hands, studying the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin. They were reminders of his struggle, both physical and mental.
What am I fighting for? Celm wondered. Is it survival? Or something more?
The pendant flickered in his mind's eye, its chaotic energy still fresh in his memory. He touched his chest instinctively, but there was no trace of the artifact.
"Where is it?" he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.
"What did I do with it?"
His gaze shifted to the sea of blood, the rippling waves reflecting the stormy sky above.
I have to keep moving, Celm thought, forcing himself to his feet. Whatever this is, I won't find answers by standing still.
As he walked, the landscape began to change. Rusted swords and broken shields emerged from the crimson depths, their jagged edges glinting faintly in the dim light.
Celm paused beside a sword, its hilt worn and battered from countless battles. He reached out, gripping it firmly.
The blade didn't budge.
He gritted his teeth, pulling harder. Still, the sword remained rooted in place.
"Figures," he muttered, stepping back.
As he continued forward, the sea of blood seemed to grow darker, its depths shrouded in shadow. Celm glanced over his shoulder, his unease growing.
This place feels... wrong, he thought. Like it's alive. Watching me.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, his thoughts racing.
"What is happening to me?" he said aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the oppressive silence.
Everything has changed since... since that day.
Celm's mind drifted back to the battle, to the moment the pendant had burned into his consciousness. The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before, searing pain mingled with an overwhelming sense of being pulled apart and remade.
Why can't I remember what happened afterward?
Fragments of memory teased at the edges of his thoughts: the dragon's roar, a voice he couldn't place, the cold, mocking laughter of someone who wasn't there.
"Am I losing myself?" Celm muttered, his voice trembling. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as if the pain could anchor him.
Meanwhile, Kalyndraxis stood at the edge of the sea of blood, watching Celm from afar.
The pendant's energy pulsed faintly in his claws, contained but restless.
"Still alive, is he?" Sepulcher's voice cut through the air, dripping with amusement.
Kalyndraxis didn't turn. "Barely. He's weaker than I expected."
"And yet, he survived," Sepulcher said, appearing beside the dragon in a swirl of shadows. His pale face was alight with intrigue as he gazed at Celm's struggling form.
"That makes him interesting, don't you think?"
"Interesting?" Kalyndraxis scoffed.
"He's pathetic. A mortal who doesn't know his place."
Sepulcher's lips curled into a sly smile.
"Ah, but isn't that what makes mortals so delightful? Their stubbornness, their delusions of grandeur, it's almost endearing."
Kalyndraxis growled low in his throat.
"You find amusement in the weakest of creatures. You'd make a poor dragon."
Sepulcher laughed softly. "And you'd make a poor tactician. You underestimate him, Kalyndraxis. That boy has the potential to upset the balance of everything."
The dragon turned to glare at him.
"You speak as if he's a threat. He's barely holding himself together."
Sepulcher's gaze remained fixed on Celm.
"Threats often come from the unlikeliest of places. The pendant chose him, after all."
Kalyndraxis clenched his jaw, his claws digging into the ground.
"The pendant is chaos incarnate. It doesn't choose. It consumes."
"Perhaps," Sepulcher said with a shrug.
"But it consumed him, and yet he stands. Doesn't that pique your curiosity?"
"It's a mistake," Kalyndraxis said firmly.
"And I'll rectify it."
He stepped forward, his aura flaring as he prepared to strike. But Sepulcher raised a hand, stopping him.
"Not yet," Sepulcher said, his tone sharp.
Kalyndraxis snarled, his golden eyes blazing. "You dare order me again?"
Sepulcher's smile widened, his voice soft but commanding.
"I dare because I can. Remember your chains, dragon."
The air crackled with tension as the two locked eyes. For a moment, it seemed as if Kalyndraxis would attack again, but he relented with a bitter growl, turning away.
"You're insufferable," Kalyndraxis muttered.
Sepulcher chuckled.
"And you're predictable. Now, let's watch and see what our little pawn will do next."
As Sepulcher spoke, Kalyndraxis' thoughts churned with resentment.
Chains. Always the chains.
He glanced down at his clawed hands, the faint scars from long-forgotten battles etched into his scales.
How long have I been bound to him? How long have I endured his games, his taunts?
The pendant pulsed faintly in his grasp, a reminder of the power he could never fully control.
If only I could wield this myself. If only I could break free.
But deep down, Kalyndraxis knew the truth. The chains were unbreakable. And Sepulcher's grasp was as relentless as the tides.
Celm stumbled forward, his steps unsteady but determined. The sea of blood seemed endless, the horizon a blur of crimson and shadow.
Keep moving, he told himself. Don't stop. Don't think.
But the thoughts came anyway, unbidden and relentless.
What am I becoming?
He pressed a hand to his chest, expecting to feel the engraved symbol. Instead, he felt... nothing.
No. Not nothing. Something deeper.
The sensation wasn't physical—it was a weight in his mind, a presence in his consciousness that he couldn't escape. It pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat.
"What did you do to me?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
The pendant's energy flared in his thoughts, a chaotic storm of emotions and images he couldn't comprehend. It was as if the artifact was alive, whispering secrets he wasn't ready to hear.
"Answer me!" Celm shouted, his voice echoing in the empty expanse.
But the only response was the distant roar of the blood-red waves.
Celm dropped to his knees, his strength finally failing him. His reflection stared back at him from the rippling surface of the sea, distorted and unfamiliar.
Who am I now? he thought, his mind heavy with doubt.
Unseen by Celm, the pendant's faint glow pulsed within his consciousness, its chaotic energy growing stronger with each beat.
From the shadows, Kalyndraxis and Sepulcher watched in silence.
"He doesn't even know," Sepulcher murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.
"Know what?" Kalyndraxis asked, his tone guarded.
Sepulcher's smile widened.
"That the symbol isn't in his heart. It's in his mind. And soon, it will consume him entirely."
Celm's reflection shimmered, the distorted image briefly replaced by the faint outline of the engraved symbol, a mark of chaos etched deep within his psyche.
The boy closed his eyes, his body trembling as he whispered, "What am I becoming?"
And in the silence that followed, the pendant pulsed again.