Xander's heart thundered in his chest as he gripped the sword tighter, the cold metal unfamiliar but comforting in his hands. He stood still for a moment, listening intently to the echoing footsteps in the stone corridor outside. His body was no longer that of a weak prisoner; he felt the guard's strength flowing through his veins, enhancing his senses.
He knew there wasn't much time. They would come looking for him soon.
With a deep breath, Xander crept toward the open door, slipping out of his cell for the first time in what felt like months. The corridor was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows on the walls. He moved silently, his muscles tensed, ready to strike if needed. A part of him feared what he had become, but a stronger part—the part that tasted power for the first time—craved more.
The hallway forked ahead. To the left, the sound of metal boots grew louder—two guards, maybe three, making their rounds. To the right, silence. Xander had no idea where he was, but silence seemed the safer option. He turned right, pressing his back against the cold stone walls as he moved swiftly down the corridor.
His mind raced. What was this place? A fortress? A hidden stronghold? The cabal's lair, where they performed their experiments in secret. He remembered their twisted faces, the way they'd observed him, poked and prodded like he was some kind of animal. He clenched his teeth, his anger rising. He couldn't stay here. He had to escape.
But then… what comes next? A small voice whispered in his mind. He didn't know. He had no plan, no idea where to go or who to trust. What was he now? A monster that fed on others? The very thought made his stomach churn. The guard's blood was still fresh on his lips.
Suddenly, a door creaked open ahead. Xander froze, pressing himself into a dark alcove, his breathing shallow. A hooded figure stepped out from the room, holding a lantern. It was a robed man—one of the mages. His robes bore the same black serpent insignia that marked the guard's armor. Xander's grip on his sword tightened as the man turned and began walking in his direction.
Instinctively, Xander raised the sword, ready to strike, but as the mage drew closer, something stopped him. His hunger—the dark craving that now lived inside him—flared to life. The guard's strength had been intoxicating, but what kind of power did the mages possess? Could he take it too?
The mage paused, looking down the hall, his lantern casting a dim glow. Xander's pulse quickened. The hunger was gnawing at him again, demanding more.
He stepped out of the shadows, quick as a predator, and the mage barely had time to gasp before Xander's sword was at his throat.
"Don't scream," Xander whispered harshly. The mage's eyes widened in terror, but he made no sound, staring at Xander with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
"Where am I?" Xander demanded, his voice low but filled with a cold intensity. "Where is this place?"
The mage trembled, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. "Th-this is… the Citadel of Atrax," he stammered. "You're a prisoner of the High Cabal. Please, don't kill me—"
The Citadel of Atrax. Xander had heard of it in passing, a fortress whispered about in the darkest corners of Eldoria. A place where dark magic thrived, where the most dangerous sorceries were practiced without mercy or restraint.
"I won't kill you," Xander said softly, feeling the hunger grow stronger. His eyes locked on the mage's pale face, his mind racing with a twisted thought. "But I need something from you."
The mage's eyes widened further as he realized Xander's intent. "No! Please!" he begged, trying to pull away, but Xander was faster. With one swift motion, he grabbed the mage's arm and bit down hard on his wrist.
The taste of blood filled his mouth once more, but this time it was different—stronger, sharper, laced with raw magic. A surge of energy tore through Xander's body, more powerful than anything he'd felt before. His vision blurred for a moment, and then, like a dam breaking, the mage's abilities flooded into him.
Fire.
Xander could feel the elemental magic of the mage igniting within him, sparking at his fingertips. He released the mage, who fell to the ground with a gurgled cry, clutching his arm as blood dripped from the wound. The man was still alive, but Xander had taken a piece of him—a piece of his power.
Xander stepped back, staring at his hands as a flicker of flame danced across his fingers. He had barely taken a sip of the mage's power, yet even this small piece felt overwhelming. He wondered, for a fleeting moment, what would happen if he consumed the entire mage. What kind of power would that bring?
The thought made his stomach twist. He wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
But the flames at his fingertips were proof of what he could do. He was more than just a thief of strength. He could take their magic, their abilities, and make them his own.
Xander glanced down at the mage, who was now crawling away, too weak to stand. He didn't care about him anymore. His power was all Xander needed.
Turning back toward the dark corridor, Xander allowed the flames to extinguish in his hand. The Citadel of Atrax had been his prison, but it wouldn't be for much longer.
With the fire of his stolen magic still burning inside him, Xander began his hunt for freedom.
And this time, no one would stop him.