Elias knelt on the cold stone floor of the old library's forgotten corner, his fingers tracing the jagged lines of a rune drawn in chalk and tinged with fresh blood. The air was heavy, the scent of iron and ash lingering as he whispered the words of an incantation under his breath. His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, but each syllable seemed to hang in the stillness, as if the very walls were listening.
His heart raced, and his hands trembled slightly. He had been performing rituals like this in secret for months now, each one a bit bolder, each one pushing a little further into forbidden realms. It had become something of a twisted routine, his only way to seize a power he'd always been denied. The Von Schwarzenwald family had built itself on magic, yet his own potential had always felt muted, stifled by an unseen weight.
And now Seraphina wants me to help her strengthen the estate's defenses, he thought, his lips curling into a bitter smile. What a joke.
But as he sat there, drawing lines in the chalk circle and chanting with the faintest hope that the ritual might yield something useful, doubt crept in. Seraphina's offer had taken him by surprise. It was the first time anyone in his family had offered him anything but scorn or indifference. Yet, part of him couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of trap, a way to test his obedience, or to lure him into abandoning the forbidden arts he'd come to rely on. It was too much of a risk.
"Focus," he muttered, shaking off the distracting thoughts as he placed a small vial of blood at the center of the rune circle. He wasn't entirely sure this ritual would work—it was based on fragments of texts he'd found scattered across the library's dust-covered volumes, translations of a language few scholars dared to read. But he had to try. If he was going to protect himself, he needed power of his own, something that could make him more than just a pawn in his father's grand game.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he began the incantation again, letting the words roll off his tongue. The power that stirred within him was dark, volatile, and unlike anything he'd felt before. Each time he performed these rituals, he could feel it growing stronger, like a shadow stretching beneath his skin. He was beginning to suspect that this dark magic wasn't something he could control—not fully. But he didn't have the luxury of stopping now.
He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Seraphina the day before, her icy gaze meeting his as she offered him a place in her plan. The doubt lingered, gnawing at him. Why now? Why offer to include me in anything? For as long as he could remember, he'd been a ghost to his siblings, a barely-there presence they could ignore or dismiss as they pleased. He'd tried to earn their respect once, had hoped for even a shred of approval, but their father had made it clear that weakness had no place in their family.
Now, he was no longer certain if he wanted their respect. The magic he practiced was his—dark, twisted, and dangerous though it was. It was the only thing that made him feel like he had some control over his life. If he accepted Seraphina's offer, he'd be giving up that independence, submitting himself to the same expectations he'd spent so long trying to escape.
But isn't that what I've wanted all along? To prove myself? The question lodged itself in his mind, festering like a thorn. Proving himself, gaining their respect—it was the kind of thing he'd clung to in his weaker moments, the faint hope that he could somehow earn a place in his family's world. But now, after so many years of being overlooked, he wasn't sure it mattered anymore.
He closed his eyes, letting the chanting fall silent as he focused on the energy coursing through him. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths as he felt the magic within him pulse, a dark, insistent rhythm. This was power—raw and unrefined, but it was his. No one had given it to him, and no one could take it away. And yet… it wasn't enough.
His fingers brushed the edge of the rune circle, smudging the chalk slightly. He couldn't deny the fear that lingered just beneath the surface. For all the strength he'd gained through these rituals, he was still vulnerable. Still alone. If he accepted Seraphina's offer, he would have the protection of the estate's defenses, a place within his family's plans—however small. But that meant risking everything he'd worked for, abandoning the path he'd chosen for himself.
The silence in the library was oppressive, the darkness pressing in on him as he struggled with his decision. He'd always seen his siblings as cold, unfeeling extensions of their father's will, but Seraphina's offer had shaken that perception. It was possible that she saw more in him than he'd realized—or maybe she simply saw him as a useful tool. Either way, he wasn't sure he could trust her, not after so many years of disdain.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see his reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall. The face that stared back at him was pale, shadows etched beneath his eyes. There was a weariness there, a resignation that he hadn't noticed before. He was exhausted, worn thin by the constant struggle to prove himself, to carve out a space in a world that seemed determined to reject him.
Maybe I'm just tired of fighting.
The thought slipped into his mind, unbidden, and for a moment, he considered what it would be like to simply give in—to accept Seraphina's offer, to let go of his quest for power and submit to the family's rules. It would be easy, wouldn't it? To fall back into the role they'd cast him in, to become the quiet, obedient son who followed orders and kept his head down.
But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a surge of anger flared within him, hot and fierce. He clenched his fists, the ritual circle forgotten as he glared at his reflection. He'd spent too long fighting to give up now. He wasn't going to let them win, wasn't going to let them define his worth. He had his own path, his own power—even if it was dark and dangerous, even if it set him apart from the rest of his family.
Taking a deep breath, he returned his attention to the circle, murmuring the words of the incantation once more. The darkness stirred, coiling around him like a living thing, filling him with a strange, twisted sense of satisfaction. This was his power, and he would make it stronger, no matter the cost.
But as the energy pulsed through him, a nagging doubt remained, a quiet voice in the back of his mind that wondered if he was making a mistake. Seraphina's offer lingered, a tantalizing possibility, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was walking a path that would lead to his ruin.
With a sigh, he let the ritual fall silent, his gaze fixed on the flickering shadows that danced along the walls. He was trapped, caught between the lure of power and the weight of his family's expectations. In that moment, he realized he had a choice to make—a choice that would define the rest of his life.
Would he remain in the shadows, clinging to the power he'd found in the darkness, or would he risk everything to find a place within his family's world? The decision hung heavy in the air, a crossroads he could neither avoid nor escape.
But for now, he could only wait, watching the shadows twist and writhe as he grappled with the uncertainty that consumed him.