The narrow passage stretched endlessly before me, the faint glow of the runes on the walls barely illuminating the way forward. The air was heavy and cold, each breath scraping against my throat like frost. The shadows inside the orb twisted restlessly, their movements sharp and agitated, as if they sensed something waiting ahead.
I tightened my grip on the orb, my fingers brushing against its smooth, unnaturally cold surface. The black veins on my arms pulsed faintly beneath my skin, a constant reminder of the power coursing through me—a power I didn't fully understand or trust.
The silence of the dungeon felt alive, pressing against my ears and filling the space with a tension that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I forced myself to keep moving.
The passage opened into a wide, circular chamber, its walls lined with jagged symbols glowing faintly red. At the center of the room stood an altar, cracked and weathered, its surface covered in ancient carvings that seemed to shift and writhe as I approached.
The orb in my hand pulsed sharply, its shadows thrashing violently against its confines.
"What now?" I muttered under my breath, though I already knew the answer. This was another trial.
The air in the chamber grew colder as I stepped closer to the altar. The runes on the walls pulsed in time with the orb, their crimson glow spilling across the floor like blood.
And then, a voice.
Low and guttural, it reverberated through the chamber, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Bearer of shadows," it said, its tone calm but heavy with authority. "You stand before the altar of binding. Here, your path diverges. Will you claim the power you wield, or will it claim you?"
The words sent a chill through me, colder than the air around me. My grip on the orb tightened as its shadows writhed more violently, lashing against my arm. The pain in my chest flared again, sharper this time, as though the shadows themselves were reacting to the voice.
I stepped toward the altar, my boots scraping against the cracked stone floor. The symbols carved into its surface glowed faintly, shifting and twisting as if alive.
"What do you mean, claim or be claimed?" I said aloud, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady. "What is this?"
The voice didn't respond immediately. The runes on the walls flared brighter, the light pulsing in time with the shadows inside the orb.
"The power you bear is not your own," the voice finally said. "It is chaos. It is hunger. It is the Abyss itself. And it demands a pact."
I froze, staring at the altar. The word "pact" echoed in my mind, heavy with meaning.
"What kind of pact?" I asked, though I already had an idea.
The shadows inside the orb coiled tightly, pressing against its surface like they were trying to escape. The black veins beneath my skin flared brighter, spreading further across my arms and into my chest.
"A binding," the voice said. "A union. You and the shadows must become one. Without it, your power will devour you. With it… you may yet survive the Abyss."
The words felt like a knife twisting in my gut. I had already felt the shadows creeping into my mind, pushing against the edges of my control. They were powerful, yes, but they were also dangerous—chaotic, unpredictable.
And now, the dungeon was telling me to let them in? To become one with them?
I shook my head, taking a step back from the altar.
"There has to be another way," I said, my voice firmer now. "I don't trust them. I don't even understand them."
The runes on the walls dimmed slightly, and for a moment, the chamber fell silent. Then the voice returned, louder, sharper.
"You misunderstand, bearer. There is no other way. Without the pact, the shadows will consume you. They will strip you of your will, your soul, your very existence. You will become their puppet—a vessel for chaos."
The shadows inside the orb surged violently, their movements frantic. My chest tightened as the pain spread, burning like fire beneath my skin.
I stumbled forward, clutching at the orb as the black veins crept up my neck and into my jaw. My vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into darkness as the shadows pressed against my mind.
"No," I muttered, shaking my head. "I can't… I won't…"
"Choose, bearer," the voice demanded. "Submit, or be consumed."
The pain in my chest flared to an unbearable level, and I collapsed to my knees in front of the altar. My breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps as the shadows inside the orb lashed out, wrapping around my arms and legs.
Images flashed in my mind—brief and fragmented, like shards of broken glass.
A figure shrouded in shadows, standing atop a ruined city.
An army of creatures like the Warden, bowing before an unseen force.
A pair of glowing eyes, staring at me from the depths of the Abyss.
The images vanished as quickly as they came, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest.
The voice spoke again, softer this time.
"The Abyss does not forgive hesitation. To wield its power, you must surrender to it. It is not a choice, bearer—it is inevitability."
I knelt before the altar, gasping for air as the pain in my chest intensified. My body trembled, every nerve alight with the chaos surging through me. The black veins beneath my skin throbbed with an unbearable heat, spreading further up my arms, across my chest, and down my legs.
The shadows inside the orb twisted violently, lashing out in jagged tendrils that coiled around the altar and the walls of the chamber, as if trying to force me forward.
"Shut up," I whispered through gritted teeth, my voice trembling with both fear and defiance. "I won't… I won't give in."
The runes on the walls flared brighter, and the voice grew louder, more insistent.
"Defiance is meaningless, bearer. The shadows are already a part of you. You cannot deny them without denying yourself."
The weight of the voice pressed harder against my thoughts, and I clenched my fists, my knuckles whitening as I fought to hold on.
"Get out of my head!" I shouted, the sound echoing through the chamber.
The voice returned, softer this time, almost gentle.
"You misunderstand, bearer. I am not your enemy. I am your truth. The shadows have chosen you. All you must do is accept them."
The shadows coiled tighter around me, their movements less chaotic now, more deliberate. I felt them pressing against my chest, wrapping around my heart like a cold, suffocating weight.
And yet, beneath the fear, there was something else—a strange, twisted comfort.
The voice wasn't wrong. I had felt the power of the shadows, the strength they gave me. Without them, I never would have survived the Warden. Without them, I wouldn't have made it this far.
But at what cost?
I stared at the altar, my mind racing. If I accepted this pact—if I bound myself to the shadows—what would it mean? Would I lose myself completely? Would I become nothing more than a puppet, a vessel for chaos?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but another thought quickly followed.
If I didn't accept, I would die.
The dungeon had made that clear from the beginning. The Abyss didn't forgive hesitation, and it didn't offer second chances.
The shadows stirred again, their movements almost… patient, as though they were waiting for my decision.
I took a deep breath, my hands trembling as I raised the orb. The pain in my chest flared again, and I gasped, the black veins spreading further across my skin.
"Fine," I muttered, my voice shaking. "You want a pact? You'll get one."
The runes on the altar flared brighter, and the voice spoke again, its tone triumphant.
"Then kneel, bearer. Accept the chaos. Become one with the Abyss."
I dropped to my knees in front of the altar, the orb pulsing violently in my hands. The shadows inside it erupted outward, coiling around the altar and the walls of the chamber. The light from the runes grew blinding, and the hum of the dungeon rose into a deafening roar.
The pain in my chest reached its peak, and I screamed as the black veins spread across my entire body, their glow burning like fire beneath my skin.
The shadows surged, pressing into my mind, my soul.
For a moment, everything went dark.
And then, I heard it.
A whisper.
"It is done."
I collapsed onto the stone floor, gasping for air. The chamber was silent now, the oppressive weight of the dungeon replaced by an eerie stillness.
The orb in my hand no longer pulsed. Its light was steady, cold, and calm.
The shadows inside me had settled, their chaotic movements replaced by a quiet, deliberate rhythm.
I pushed myself to my feet, my body trembling but… stronger.
The silence of the chamber was almost suffocating now, broken only by the faint crackling of the dying runes along the altar. My breathing was ragged, and the pain in my chest had dulled to a deep, constant ache.
I looked down at my arms. The black veins were still there, faintly glowing beneath my skin, but they didn't feel like they were fighting me anymore. They were still, calm, as though waiting for my command.
The orb in my hand felt different too. Its weight hadn't changed, but it no longer felt like something separate from me. It was no longer a tool or a weapon. It was a part of me.
The voice returned, softer this time, almost reverent.
"You are bound now, bearer. The pact is sealed. You and the shadows are one."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My mind was racing, trying to process everything that had just happened.
I had survived. The dungeon hadn't killed me—yet. But I wasn't the same anymore. The shadows were no longer something I carried. They were inside me, a part of me in a way that was both terrifying and intoxicating.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.