The candlelight flickered as Seraphina poured over the pages of the Grimoire of Shadows, her fingers tracing the intricate runes etched into the aged parchment. The words seemed alive, shifting and pulsing with an energy that both fascinated and unsettled her. Every page revealed more of the power she had bound herself to, but it also raised new questions—about the nature of the pact, the price it demanded, and the figure who had confronted her in the village.
The mysterious stranger's words echoed in her mind. "You're not the first to walk this path."
If that was true, then she needed to know more—about those who had come before her and what had become of them. The Grimoire seemed to sense her thoughts, the faint runes on its cover glowing as though urging her deeper into its secrets.
Seraphina took a steadying breath and flipped to a page she hadn't dared to read before. The text was dense, written in an ancient language that she could barely decipher, but fragments of it stood out.
"The Pactbearers… shadows entwined… trials of the soul… the final price."
The words sent a chill down her spine. Whoever had written this had known the truth of what she was facing, and they had left a warning. But the meaning was unclear, the text fragmented as if parts of it had been deliberately obscured.
She leaned closer, her eyes scanning the faint, almost invisible markings in the margins of the page. They formed a pattern, a sigil she didn't recognize, but its shape felt familiar, like something she had seen in a dream. The sight of it made her pulse quicken, the darkness within her stirring in response.
Before she could process the feeling, a sharp knock at the door startled her. Seraphina's heart leapt as she snapped the Grimoire shut, its glow fading instantly. She rose from her chair, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the sword Bernard had given her.
"Who is it?" she called, her voice steady despite the unease tightening in her chest.
"Open the door, Seraphina." The voice was low and commanding, carrying an air of authority that sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't someone she recognized, and that made it all the more unsettling.
She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the sword's hilt. "State your name."
There was a pause, followed by a faint chuckle. "Names are of little consequence. But if you must call me something, you may call me Elias."
The name meant nothing to her, but the way he said it—calm, assured, and slightly mocking—made her blood run cold. She debated ignoring him, but something about the tone of his voice suggested he wouldn't leave until she let him in.
Reluctantly, she opened the door.
Standing on her doorstep was a tall, lean man clad in a long, dark coat. His face was sharp, with high cheekbones and piercing silver eyes that seemed to glint in the dim light. His hair was dark and slightly tousled, and a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. He exuded an aura of power and danger, and Seraphina's instincts screamed at her to be cautious.
"Elias," she said, her voice cool and guarded. "What do you want?"
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his movements smooth and deliberate. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on the closed Grimoire before returning to her.
"You've made the pact," he said, as though it were a simple observation. "And now you're trying to make sense of it."
Seraphina's fingers tightened on the sword's hilt. "How do you know that?"
Elias smirked, his silver eyes glinting with amusement. "Because I've been where you are. I made the same pact, long ago."
Her breath caught at his words. "You're a Pactbearer?"
"I was," he corrected, his tone turning colder. "But my time as one ended long ago. And now, I've come to warn you."
Seraphina's mind raced. If Elias had truly walked the same path, then he might hold the answers she sought. But his presence felt dangerous, his motives unclear.
"Warn me about what?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
Elias stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "The pact isn't just about power, Seraphina. It's a test—a series of trials designed to push you to your limits. If you succeed, you'll gain control over the shadows and the power they offer. But if you fail…"
He trailed off, his expression darkening. Seraphina didn't need him to finish the sentence.
"What kind of trials?" she pressed.
Elias's smirk returned, though it was devoid of humor. "Each Pactbearer's trials are different, tailored to their greatest fears and weaknesses. The shadows know you better than you know yourself, and they'll use that knowledge against you. Your strength, your resolve, your very soul—they'll test it all."
Seraphina's stomach churned at his words, but she refused to let him see her fear. "And what happens if I pass?"
Elias's expression softened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "Then you'll become something more—something stronger. But passing comes at a cost, and the shadows will never truly let you go."
His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Seraphina's mind swirled with questions, but one burned brighter than the rest. "Why are you telling me this? What do you gain from warning me?"
Elias's smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet intensity. "Because I've seen what happens to those who aren't prepared. I've seen them fall, consumed by the darkness they thought they could control. I don't want that to happen to you."
The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise, but she remained wary. "Why do you care?"
Elias hesitated, his silver eyes narrowing slightly. "Let's just say I owe someone a debt. Someone who once tried to save me from the same fate."
Before she could question him further, he turned and moved toward the door. "I've said what I came to say. The rest is up to you."
He paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. "One more thing, Seraphina. The shadows will begin their trials soon. Be ready."
And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the night like a wisp of smoke.
Seraphina stood frozen for a long moment, her mind racing with everything Elias had said. Trials tailored to her fears and weaknesses? A cost for success? The shadows never letting her go?
The weight of his warning pressed down on her, but it also steeled her resolve. If the shadows wanted to test her, she would face them. She had made her choice, and she wouldn't back down now.
She returned to the table, her gaze falling on the Grimoire. The runes on its cover glowed faintly, as if urging her to open it once more. Taking a deep breath, she flipped to the next page.
The text described the first trial—a test of fear. The shadows would bring her deepest, most paralyzing fears to life, forcing her to confront them head-on. If she faltered, they would consume her. If she overcame them, she would gain their respect—and the first piece of the power she sought.
Seraphina's hands trembled as she read, but she refused to look away. She had come too far to turn back now. The trials were inevitable, and she needed to be ready.
As the candle burned low, the shadows in the room seemed to close in around her, their whispers growing louder. The first trial was coming, and Seraphina knew she had no choice but to face it.
She was bound by the pact, and there was no escaping the darkness now.