The rain had been falling for hours, a constant, drumming rhythm that matched the beat of Alistair's pulse. He lay awake in the dim room, staring up at the wooden beams above him, the weight of the curse pressing down on him like a physical force. The darkness inside him had always been there, but now it felt closer than ever. He had thought time would dull the pain, but it hadn't. The longer he stayed with Kaelen, the stronger the curse seemed to grow, feeding off his doubt, his fear.
Alistair swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool air biting at his skin. The cabin was silent, save for the distant crackling of the fire in the next room. Every nerve in his body was taut with anticipation. What was Kaelen doing? Why hadn't the rogue mage shared his plan yet? What was taking so long?
As if summoned by his thoughts, Kaelen appeared in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the fire. He was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied Alistair. There was something unreadable in that gaze, something that made the prince uneasy.
"You're awake," Kaelen said, his voice as calm and cutting as ever.
Alistair nodded, forcing himself to stand. "I'm ready. Let's get this over with."
Kaelen's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile—an expression that both comforted and unsettled Alistair all at once. "It's not something you can just rush through, Prince. Not if you truly want to be free."
The rogue mage stepped aside, motioning for Alistair to follow him. "Come. There's something I need to show you."
Alistair followed, his heart beating faster as he crossed the threshold into the main room. The fire in the hearth blazed, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward him, alive with an energy he couldn't explain.
Kaelen stood by the fire, his hands moving through the air, the flames reacting to his touch as if they were his own personal servants. Magic hummed in the air, thick and palpable, and Alistair felt the weight of it, the sheer power that was being wielded.
"Sit," Kaelen commanded, his voice sharp. "This is where it begins."
Alistair lowered himself to the rug in front of the fire, his heart in his throat. The flames flickered, dancing with shadows that seemed to reach for him, pulling at the edges of his mind.
Kaelen moved to kneel beside him, his hand resting lightly on Alistair's shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding, but there was something else—a pressure, a weight that made Alistair's chest tighten.
"Close your eyes," Kaelen instructed, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You need to see the truth before we can break the curse."
Alistair hesitated but obeyed, his breath catching in his throat as the darkness behind his eyelids deepened. The air grew colder, and the distant sound of the rain outside seemed to fade. All that was left was the weight of Kaelen's presence, his voice drawing Alistair deeper into himself.
"Focus on what's inside you," Kaelen said softly. "The curse doesn't just live in your blood—it lives in your soul. It feeds on your fears, your guilt... your pain."
The words echoed through Alistair's mind like a drumbeat, the curse stirring in response. He felt it then—the pull, the suffocating weight of the past. The memories that had haunted him for years came rushing back. His mother's death. The cold, indifferent gaze of his father. His own fear of failing, of never being enough. The curse was built on these things, feeding off his every weakness, every fear.
His chest tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't escape.
Kaelen's voice was steady, a calm anchor in the storm of Alistair's mind. "You have to face it. Let go of the control. Let the curse show you what it's made of."
Alistair shook, unable to control the panic rising in his chest. He wanted to pull away, to run, but Kaelen's hand was on him, warm and steady, holding him in place.
"Let it take you," Kaelen urged. "You're stronger than it. I'm here."
Alistair squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to hold onto the sliver of hope that had been growing inside him. The darkness threatened to swallow him whole, but he refused to give in. Not yet.
For a long moment, the curse wracked him, twisting his insides like a poisoned vine. But then, something unexpected happened. Instead of retreating, Alistair felt a flicker of power deep within him—a spark of something he had never acknowledged before. His own magic. His own strength.
Kaelen's voice was barely a whisper now. "Yes... feel it. Let it rise."
The air around them thickened, the temperature dropping as if the very cabin were holding its breath. Alistair's heart pounded as his power surged, the curse recoiling in response.
Kaelen's hand tightened on his shoulder, grounding him, even as the pressure inside Alistair grew. He could feel the magic coursing through him, raw and untamed, as it fought against the curse that had held him captive for so long.
"Don't fight it, Alistair," Kaelen warned, his voice low. "Embrace it. Embrace yourself."
But it was too much. The pain, the rage, the guilt—it all came crashing down at once, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to drown him.
"Alistair!" Kaelen's voice was a sharp command, cutting through the chaos. "You need to let go!"
But before Alistair could respond, before he could fight the wave of darkness threatening to overwhelm him, a sharp pain shot through his chest. A searing, burning pain that made him gasp for air.
He opened his eyes—just in time to see Kaelen's face twist with surprise, his hand jerking away from Alistair's shoulder. The fire flared violently, casting eerie shadows around the room.
"What the hell..." Kaelen muttered, stepping back.
And then, everything went black.