The return to Marcus's lair was a journey through silence. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as though it had witnessed Kael's transformation and recoiled in awe—or fear. Lyra led the group, her movements efficient and detached. Zephyr followed, his usual smirk subdued, though his eyes occasionally flicked to Kael, assessing.
Kael trailed behind, his blade still stained with the officer's blood. He had wiped it clean several times, but the crimson seemed to linger, a ghostly reminder of what he'd done.
I did what had to be done, he told himself. The mantra was hollow, the words Marcus had drilled into him echoing in his mind.
The lair loomed ahead, its dark silhouette a menacing contrast against the early dawn. The stone entrance yawned open, swallowing them whole as they entered.
Marcus was waiting.
He stood at the center of the grand hall, his presence commanding as always. The dim light cast sharp shadows across his angular features, his eyes glinting with approval—or something more calculating.
"You've returned," Marcus said, his voice smooth yet carrying an undertone of authority that demanded obedience.
Lyra stepped forward, her report concise. "The mission was a success. The target is dead, and no trace of us remains."
Marcus's gaze shifted to Kael, piercing through him. "And you?"
Kael stiffened. He wanted to speak, to say the right thing, but his mind was a whirlwind. The officer's face, the fear in his eyes, flashed before him. His hesitation had been brief, but it had been there.
"I completed the task," Kael said finally, his voice steady but void of conviction.
Marcus studied him, his silence stretching uncomfortably. Then he nodded. "Good."
The single word carried weight, but there was a flicker of something in Marcus's expression—something that told Kael his hesitation hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Lyra," Marcus said, turning his attention to her. "You may go. Zephyr, ensure the perimeter is secure."
The two left without a word, though Zephyr shot Kael a parting glance, a mixture of curiosity and amusement in his eyes.
Now, it was just Marcus and Kael.
Marcus stepped closer, his movements deliberate. He circled Kael like a predator assessing its prey, his gaze dissecting every inch of him.
"You hesitate," Marcus said, his tone low, almost conversational.
Kael opened his mouth to protest, but Marcus silenced him with a raised hand.
"It's not a flaw," Marcus continued. "Not yet. Hesitation is the mind's way of questioning the heart. And in this world, questions are dangerous."
Kael frowned, his hands clenching at his sides. "I didn't fail."
"No," Marcus agreed. "But you faltered. And faltering leads to cracks. Cracks lead to weakness. Do you know what happens to weapons with weaknesses?"
Kael shook his head.
Marcus's smile was cold. "They break."
The words hung in the air like a guillotine.
"But," Marcus added, his tone softening, "I see potential in you, Kael. You have a fire—a rage—that can be honed. It's why I chose you."
Kael's gaze met Marcus's, the man's intensity almost overwhelming. "I want to be strong," Kael said, his voice raw. "I want to never feel powerless again."
Marcus's smile widened, though it never reached his eyes. "Then you must embrace the darkness. It's not your enemy—it's your ally. Let it consume your doubt. Let it guide you."
He placed a hand on Kael's shoulder, the gesture both comforting and commanding. "You've taken your first step. But there's more to learn, more to become. Trust me, Kael, and I will make you unstoppable."
For a moment, Kael felt a flicker of something—hope, perhaps, or something darker. He nodded, the weight of Marcus's hand grounding him.
"I trust you," Kael said, and he meant it.
Marcus's grin was predatory. "Good. Then your real training begins tomorrow."
As Marcus turned and walked away, Kael felt the enormity of his words settle over him. The officer's blood might have been washed away, but the scars of that night were etched deeper than flesh.
And somewhere, in the deepest part of him, Kael wondered if Marcus was right.