Namory's hands shook as she clutched the edges of her blanket, her voice a broken whisper. "What… what does that mean? What cost?"
Lucian's gaze darkened, his eyes gleaming like cold, distant stars. He stepped closer, his shadow stretching over her like a shroud. "Every time you sing, Namory, every time your voice reaches the ears of your adoring fans, a little more of your soul slips away."
Her heart pounded, the realization slamming into her like a wave crashing against rocks. "But… you said it was just a small piece. Just a little."
"I said it was a small price," Lucian corrected, his tone sharp, almost mocking. "But that price renews every time you bask in the adoration you so desperately craved."
Namory's blood ran cold. "So… so you're saying…"
"Think of it as a siphon," he murmured, gliding around the room, his figure melding with the shadows. "A bit of your essence, bit by bit, given willingly each time you sing for them. And, in return, I bestow upon you their love, their obsession, their undivided devotion. A fair trade, don't you think?"
The weight of his words settled in, suffocating. Her fame, her voice, the inexplicable magnetism that had launched her to stardom—all of it came from the darkness she'd invited in. Her fans' worship wasn't just admiration; it was a feverish, unsettling obsession that bordered on madness. And she was the one feeding it, tying them to her through the threads of her soul.
Namory swallowed hard, fighting the nausea that churned in her stomach. "You tricked me."
Lucian laughed, a hollow, chilling sound. "Oh, Namory, I didn't trick you. I simply gave you exactly what you asked for. Fame, adoration, success beyond your wildest dreams. If you're unhappy with the terms…" His smile turned razor-sharp. "Well, you should have read the fine print."
Desperation clawed at her chest. "I didn't know… I didn't realize…"
"You didn't care," Lucian interrupted smoothly. "You were so blinded by your desire to be someone that you didn't stop to consider the price. All you saw was the end result."
Tears stung Namory's eyes, the glamour of her new life fading, twisting into something dark and ugly. She'd fought so hard to escape her anonymity, to make the world hear her voice, and now it was slipping through her fingers. Her very soul was slipping away, bit by bit, with every performance, every recording, every time a fan pressed 'play.'
"Please," she whispered, a tremor in her voice. "Take it back. I… I don't want this anymore."
Lucian's expression softened, a trace of pity flickering in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, unyielding stare. "There is no 'taking it back,' Namory. You made a pact. And pacts, my dear, are binding."
"But… there must be something I can do. Some way to…" Her voice trailed off, her mind racing. She couldn't bear the thought of living like this, watching her fans' adoration twist into something dark and twisted, knowing that her very presence was dragging them into shadows she couldn't control.
Lucian watched her with an almost amused glint in his eye. "Well," he said slowly, "there may be… a way. But it won't be easy. And the cost…" He chuckled darkly. "Let's just say it's not one most are willing to pay."
Namory clenched her fists, steeling herself. "What is it? I'll do anything."
He leaned in close, his breath cold against her skin. "You have to give back what you've taken, Namory. All of it. Every ounce of obsession, every thread of influence, every whisper of power you've gained. You must relinquish it all, severing the ties between you and the ones who adore you."
Her heart twisted. "You mean… I'd have to give up my fans?"
"Precisely," Lucian murmured, his gaze gleaming with a terrible, dark light. "You would become nothing. Forgotten. Your music, your voice, erased from their memories as if you never existed. Fame is a flame, Namory. And if you wish to be free, you must let it die."
A lump formed in her throat. She'd spent so long dreaming of this life, fighting for a way out of obscurity. To lose it all, to go back to being nameless and invisible, was almost unthinkable.
"Consider it carefully," Lucian said, his voice dripping with malice. "After all, you've come so far. You're adored, worshipped. Isn't this what you wanted?"
She looked away, her mind a swirling storm. Part of her recoiled at the thought of losing everything she'd gained, of slipping back into the shadows. But the other part, the part that had begun to dread the shadows that lingered at her shows, that felt the weight of her fans' desperate obsession pressing in on her, knew that she couldn't keep living like this. Not if it meant losing herself.
"I… I need time," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze.
Lucian's smile was a slash of white in the darkness. "Of course. But remember, Namory…" His voice lowered to a hiss. "Time is running out."
And then, with a flicker of shadow, he was gone, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence of her hotel room.
The days that followed were a blur of anguish and confusion. She went through the motions, attending interviews, rehearsals, and fan events, but her heart wasn't in it. Every song she sang felt like a chain tightening around her neck, every adoring gaze a reminder of the darkness that bound her.
Her fans only grew more fervent, more unhinged. She noticed bruises on her arms after a signing, where a fan had gripped her too hard. At concerts, fans seemed to move in strange, disjointed rhythms, swaying and twisting as if under some hypnotic spell. The whispers grew louder, rumors that those who got too close to her were… changed, somehow. Damaged. Their minds altered in subtle but unsettling ways.
One night, after yet another performance where the fans' cheers had felt like screams echoing in her skull, she locked herself in her dressing room and sank to the floor, tears slipping down her cheeks. This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't the dream she'd imagined.
A knock sounded at the door. She stiffened, her heart leaping to her throat.
"Namory?" It was Sarah, her manager, a woman who had once been bright and optimistic, now worn thin by the strain of handling her high-maintenance, obsessive fanbase. She opened the door slowly, peeking in with a worried look. "Are you… are you okay?"
Namory nodded, though she knew it was a lie. Her hands trembled, the shadows in her mind thick and cloying. She could barely look Sarah in the eyes anymore. The guilt weighed heavily on her, knowing that everyone around her—her team, her fans, even strangers she passed on the street—was somehow affected by her, drawn into her web of influence, all because of the dark magic that pulsed through her songs.
"Is something wrong?" Sarah asked gently, stepping inside.
Namory opened her mouth to speak, to confess everything, but the words lodged in her throat. How could she explain? How could she make anyone understand the bargain she'd made, the price she was paying? They'd think she was crazy, or worse—they might become even more obsessed, drawn deeper into the darkness.
"No, I'm… I'm fine," she managed, forcing a weak smile. "Just… tired."
Sarah's eyes lingered on her, concern flickering in her gaze. But she nodded and left, closing the door softly behind her.
Alone once more, Namory slumped back against the wall, a hollow ache spreading through her chest. She couldn't go on like this. She couldn't keep dragging innocent people into her nightmare, watching as they fell under her influence, twisted by the dark forces she'd unleashed.
That night, she made her decision.
The final concert was announced a week later, billed as a "farewell show." The news sent shockwaves through her fanbase, her sudden departure met with disbelief, anger, and desperation. Some fans flooded her social media with messages, begging her to stay, promising they'd follow her anywhere. Others grew aggressive, accusing her of betrayal, of abandoning them. But Namory remained silent, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what she had to do.
The night of the show arrived, and the stadium was packed, thousands of fans filling the seats, their voices rising in a deafening roar. Namory stood backstage, her heart pounding as she looked out at the sea of faces, at the people she was about to leave behind.
She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Lucian's words pressing on her. She had to sever the ties, let it all go. She had to sing, one last time, without the darkness, without the power he'd given her.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd fell silent, a collective breath held in anticipation. Namory stepped onto the stage, her heart