The drive back from the Carpathian Mountains was eerily quiet, and the landscape outside the car was a blur of gray skies and shadowy forests. The air between Elias, Marie, and Jonas was thick with unease. They had two of the three ritual components in hand, but the last—the Heart of the Devoted—loomed over them like a storm cloud. None dared speak about it aloud, though they all understood its implications.
Elias stared out the window, his mind far from the winding roads. The vial of crimson liquid—the Blood of the Earth—sat in his bag, its weight feeling far heavier than it should. He couldn't shake the whispers they'd heard in the desert or the sensation of cold fingers brushing against his thoughts. Malakarath's presence had grown stronger with every step of their journey, and now, it felt as though the Sleeper was watching him more closely than ever.
The first vision came without warning. As the car rounded a bend, Elias blinked, and in that instant, the world shifted.
He was no longer in the car. Instead, he stood in a vast city carved from black stone, its towers reaching toward a crimson sky streaked with ash and fire. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and burning wood, and the streets below were filled with people—robed figures moving in perfect unison, their faces hidden behind masks of gold.
Elias stumbled, his heart pounding. He looked down at himself and realized he was dressed in the same crimson and gold robes he had seen in his dreams, the intricate patterns glowing faintly against the dark fabric. Around him, the crowd chanted in unison, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic, hypnotic cadence.
"Elias."
The voice cut through the cacophony like a blade. He turned and saw Malakarath standing at the edge of a massive onyx dais, its presence commanding and serene. The Sleeper's humanlike form was draped in robes of black and gold, its pale skin luminescent in the dim light. Its dark, fathomless eyes locked onto his, and the world seemed to tilt for a moment.
"This is what was," Malakarath said, its voice soft yet resonant. "A world perfected under my guidance. Do you see how they thrived?"
Elias turned back to the crowd, watching as the people prostrated themselves before the dais. Their movements were mechanical, their devotion absolute. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only a single-minded focus on the Sleeper.
"They gave themselves willingly," Malakarath continued, stepping closer to him. "They understood the truth: that to build something great, one must first surrender what holds them back."
Elias's chest tightened as he watched the scene unfold. The people were chanting his name now, their voices blending with the rhythmic pounding of drums that seemed to come from the earth itself.
"This isn't real," he whispered, his voice trembling. "This isn't me."
Malakarath's faint smile deepened, its eyes gleaming. "Not yet."
Elias gasped, jolting upright in the car. His hands gripped the seat as his chest heaved, the vision fading like smoke. Marie turned sharply, her concern etched into every line of her face.
"Elias! Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with panic.
Jonas glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his expression grim. "What happened?"
Elias shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. "It was nothing. Just—just a moment."
Marie wasn't convinced. She reached over, placing a hand on his arm. "Elias, you were gone for a minute. You weren't responding. What did you see?"
He hesitated, the weight of the vision pressing down on him. "The city," he said finally. "The civilization that worshiped Malakarath. I saw them… chanting, offering themselves to it. It was like they were… empty. Like their lives didn't belong to them anymore."
Marie's hand tightened on his arm. "That's the influence. Malakarath takes more than just devotion—it consumes. It's trying to show you what it wants."
Elias nodded, his gaze distant. "And it's not stopping."
The visions didn't stop. Over the next few days, they came more frequently, slipping into the edges of Elias's reality like cracks spreading through glass. He would be walking through the market square of a small town, and suddenly, he would be standing in the middle of a sacrificial ceremony, the air thick with the sound of screams and chanting. He would wake drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, and the image of Malakarath's serene face burned into his mind.
Each vision revealed more of the civilization's downfall. He saw their temples, towering structures of obsidian and gold, crumble under the weight of their devotion. He saw the people turn on one another as Malakarath's influence grew, their minds fractured by the whispers that refused to stop. And he saw the final days—the priests performing the desperate purification ritual, their voices trembling as they offered the Heart of the Devoted to seal the Sleeper.
But even that wasn't enough. Malakarath's power seeped through the cracks, lingering like a stain on the earth. The civilization fell, consumed by the very thing they had worshiped.
The toll of the visions began to show. Elias grew quieter and more withdrawn, shifting focus from the translations to the fragmented memories Malakarath was feeding him. He spent hours staring at their gathered components as if willing them to reveal their secrets.
Marie watched him with growing concern, but he brushed her off every time she tried to reach out. "I'm fine," he would say, though his pale face and trembling hands told a different story.
Jonas, meanwhile, grew increasingly agitated. "This isn't sustainable," he said one evening, slamming his fist on the table. "You're not eating, barely sleeping, and now you're seeing things? This is exactly what those warnings were about, Elias!"
Elias looked up, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something else—something colder, harder. "I'm not stopping, Jonas. These visions—they're not just random. They're showing me something. Pieces of the puzzle."
Jonas threw up his hands in frustration. "What happens when you can't tell the difference between the puzzle and reality?"
That night, Elias sat alone in the dim study room, the vial of the Blood of the Earth and the shard of the Essence of Starlight laid out before him. His hands trembled as he traced the faint glow of the crystal, his mind swirling with the images Malakarath had shown him.
The Sleeper's voice echoed softly in his thoughts, a whisper that felt like a caress. "You see now, don't you? They faltered because they feared. But you… you are stronger. You understand."
Elias closed his eyes, the weight of the visions pressing down on him. He could feel the Sleeper's influence growing, its presence sinking deeper into his mind. The question wasn't whether he could stop it—but whether he wanted to.
The Sleeper had shown him the truth of the past. But it also showed him something else: the possibility of a future where he wasn't just a bystander. A future where he could lead.
And for the first time, Elias wasn't sure if he wanted to resist.