As the needle approached, Aerovind's world narrowed to a pinprick of terror. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for fresh agony.
"No!" Sylvia lunged forward, her hand closing around Moira's wrist. "I won't let you-"
The syringe clattered to the floor, its contents spilling across the floor. For a moment, silence reigned.
Then, from beyond the observation window, a voice like silk over steel: "Is there a problem?"
The laboratory door creaked open, and a hush fell over the room. Seath entered, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.
"My, my," he purred, ember eyes sweeping over the scene. "What a delightful mess we've made."
Sylvia, still gripping Moira's wrist, tensed. "Lord Seath, I—"
A flicker of annoyance crossed Seath's face, he raised a hand. The air tensed as an invisible force slammed into Sylvia. She flew across the room, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch. As she slid to the floor, a barrier of energy materialized around her, containing the spray of blood.
Seath tsked, brushing a speck of dust from his green cloak. "Clumsy. Now, where were we?"
He glided to Aerovind's side, ignoring the trembling researchers. Leaning close, he gave a small kiss on the kid's forehead.
"You've been quite troublesome, haven't you?" Seath murmured, tracing a finger along Aerovind's jaw. "But oh, the potential you hold. It's... beautiful."
Aerovind tried to recoil, but the restraints held firm. Seath chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth.
"Darnell," he called, not taking his eyes off Aerovind. "Fetch the Marzanna's blood. All of it."
The pockmarked cleric blanched. "My lord, the full dose could—"
"Did I stutter?" Seath's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
Darnell scurried away, returning moments later with a vial of viscous, crimson liquid. Seath took it, holding it up to the light. The substance seemed to writhe within the glass.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Seath mused. "The distilled essence of a goddess of death. Imagine the power it holds." His gaze locked with Aerovind's. "Imagine the power you could hold."
Seath gripped Aerovind's jaw, forcing his mouth open. He poured the contents of the vial down the boy's throat, not stopping until every last drop was gone.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then Aerovind's body convulsed violently.
A scream tore from his throat, raw and primal. His back arched off the table, muscles straining against the restraints. Veins bulged beneath his skin, pulsing with an eerie blue light.
Seath watched, enraptured. "Fascinating. The compatibility is remarkable."
Aerovind's skin began to ripple, as if something was moving beneath its surface. Patches darkened to a deep, bruise-like purple. His fingers elongated, nails sharpening into claws that dug into the metal table.
"More," Seath breathed. "Show me more."
As if in response, Aerovind's eyes snapped open. The sclera had turned pitch black, his irises a swirling vortex of yellow and blue. He opened his mouth in another soundless scream, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth.
The air grew heavy with energy. Small objects began to levitate around the room. The lights flickered and died, plunging the laboratory into darkness broken only by the pulsing glow of Aerovind's veins.
Through it all, Seath stood unmoved, a small smile playing on his lips. "Magnificent," he whispered.
"nora…"
Aerovind went rigid. The light faded from his body and the levitating objects clattered to the floor.
Darnell rushed forward, pressing fingers to Aerovind's neck. His eyes widened. "My lord, his heart... it's stopped."
Seath's smile didn't waver. He leaned in close, lips brushing Aerovind's ear. "Yellow suited you," he murmured.
Straightening, Seath turned to the assembled clerics. "Clean this up. toss the body, and i want a full autopsy."
As he strode towards the door, Seath paused, glancing back at Aerovind's still form. "Oh, toss the witch's body to the dogs" His eyes glittered with dark amusement. "And for the kid bury him, he served me right."
The clerics moved with the practiced efficiency of carrion birds, their robes whispering against the cold stone floor as they prepared Aerovind's body.
"Wrap him tight,"Darnell growled, eyes never leaving the pale form on the slab. "Lord Seath wants no trace left behind."
As they worked, Moira's lilting voice drifted through the chamber. "Such a waste," she mused, trailing a finger along the edge of a bloodstained scalpel. "He had such... potential."
Darnell's lip curled in disgust. "Your perversions sicken me, witch. Get on with it."
Outside, beyond the laboratory's sterile confines, a shallow grave gaped like a hungry maw. The earth was soft, still damp from recent rains that had turned the courtyards of Latvinia into treacherous quagmires.
As the wrapped body thudded into the pit, Darnell found himself wondering, not for the first time, how he had come to this. Once, I served the true gods, he thought bitterly. Now I bury children for a madman who fancies himself divine.
"May the Stranger guide you, boy," he muttered, almost to himself. Then, louder: "Fill it in. And make sure it's deep."
Shovelfuls of mud rained down, obscuring the pale wrappings until nothing remained but a mound of freshly turned soil. As the last clod fell, a chill wind swept through the courtyard, carrying with it the faint scent of winter roses.
Nearby, a more gruesome task unfolded. Sylvia's broken body laying limp as a discarded doll.
"Toss her beyond the walls," Darnell commanded,"Let the dogs have her. It's more than she deserves."
Days stretched into weeks, the changing seasons marked by the gradual browning of leaves and the increasingly desperate cawing of crows. The grave remained undisturbed.
A month passed, and the skies opened once more. Rain lashed the earth, turning the ground to a sucking mire. As thunder rolled overhead, something stirred beneath the sodden soil.
A hand, pale as milk and streaked with grave-filth, erupted from the earth. Fingers clawed desperately at the air, seeking purchase in a world long denied. A scream, raw and primal, tore through the storm's cacophony.
Slowly, agonizingly, a figure emerged. Aerovind, reborn, fought his way free of his earthen prison. He collapsed onto the grass, chest heaving as he gulped down air.
The rain washed over him, sluicing away layers of mud to reveal skin mottled with bruise-like patches. His body twitched and jerked, muscles spasming as if trying to remember their purpose.
Aerovind's mind reeled, fragmented memories assaulting him in disjointed flashes. Pain. Laughter. A kiss on his forehead that burned like ice. He curled into himself.
I died, he realized, the thought crystalizing with horrifying clarity. I died, and yet...
With trembling limbs, he began to crawl. Each movement was a heavy task and a punishment to his battered frame,yet primal instinct drove him onward. He needed shelter, needed to escape the horrors.
The forest loomed before him, a wall of shadows and whispers. Aerovind dragged himself past the first line of trees, the earthy scent of decaying leaves filling his nostrils. His stomach clenched, a hunger unlike anything he had ever known gnawing at his insides.
An ancient oak stood long in a small clearing, its gnarled branches reaching towards the storm-wracked sky like grasping fingers. Aerovind collapsed at its base, his own fingers digging into the moss-covered roots.
"Please," he croaked, though to whom or what, he couldn't say. "Please..."
With desperate, animal-like movements, he tore leaves from low-hanging branches, cramming them into his mouth. The bitter taste barely registered as he chewed and swallowed, driven by a need that transcended reason.
When the edge of his hunger finally dulled, Aerovind gazed up at the oak's sprawling canopy. Rain filtered through the leaves.
What am I? he wondered, staring at hands that seemed both familiar and alien. What have they made me?
With the last reserves of his strength, he hauled himself up into the tree's embrace. Wedged in the crook of two massive branches.
He cried for the life stolen from him, for the innocence shattered by cruel hands and colder hearts. He cried for his mother, wasted by illness, and for his sister, left alone in a world that cared nothing for orphaned girls. He cried for his father, whose lessons in swordsmanship had proved useless against the true monsters of the world.
As night fell, Aerovind's tears mingled with the rain.
"I want to be the strongest."
(back to the present)
Silence fell like a shroud over the chamber. Only Aerovind's ragged breaths pierced the stillness, each exhales a ghost of pain long buried. He lay on the cold stone, tears cutting through his face.
The visions faded, leaving behind an ache as vast as the sea. Aerovind's fingers clawed at the floor, seeking an anchor in a chaotic world.
"seath," he whispered, the word both prayer and curse.
Zellrid stepped forward, his face a mask of concern rarely seen. "Aerovind," he began, voice rough yet gentler than usual.
The words died in his throat. His gaze locked on a figure in the doorway a lone, red eye gleaming in the shadows. Zellrid felt his blood turn to ice.
"Fuck this," he growled, the words torn from him by an unseen force. "I'm killing myself."
Without another sound, he turned and strode away. His footsteps echoed like thunder in the quiet chamber.
Ordeon watched Zellrid go, confusion etched on his weathered face. An uneasy feeling crawled under his skin. Still, curiosity pulled him forward.
As he neared the doorway, the stranger came into focus. Pale as death, with tangled hair framing a gaunt face. But it was the eye that drew Ordeon's gaze a blood-red gem set in a scarred socket.
"What devilry is this?" Ordeon asked, his voice steadier than he felt. "What have you done?"