The altar before him flickered, its sickly glow casting long shadows across the void. The air seemed to pulse with each breath he took, thick with tension and dread. He had thought the worst was behind him—he had fought, run, and survived—but now, in this place where the rules of reality bent and twisted, he felt the weight of something far darker pressing in.
The voice returned, low and smooth, as if it had been waiting for him all along, its presence curling through the dark like smoke.
"You've made it this far, mortal," it said, its tone laced with a twisted amusement. "But do you think your struggle will end here? You've taken what I offered—power, escape, the false promise of control—but every gift has its price."
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath. His hands shook, the absence of the dagger—a once comforting weight in his grip—now a heavy reminder of how much he had lost. The power it had granted him seemed to be fading, the strength of his hand a mere echo of what it had been before.
"What do you want?" His voice was barely a whisper, his throat dry, his heart pounding as he searched the darkness for some sign of the source of the voice. But there was nothing—only the oppressive weight of the unknown.
"You understand the cost, don't you?" The voice was almost mocking. "I've given you a chance, a fleeting moment of power. You've survived, and yet you remain here. But there is still something you lack—a final sacrifice."
He flinched, his stomach twisting. "A sacrifice?" he repeated, almost breathless. "I've already—"
"Not yet," the voice interrupted, a dark edge creeping into its tone. "The power you once wielded, that dagger, it is but a symbol. It is your ticket out of my domain, the price for your escape."
He glanced down at his empty hands, the cold air brushing over his fingers where the dagger had once been. His mind spun. He had lost it—the very thing that had given him hope, that had made him believe he could control his fate. And now, it seemed, he had nothing.
"You have your escape," the voice said. "But there's a cost. I want more than your power—I want your bloodline."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. "My bloodline?" he breathed. "What do you mean?"
The voice hummed with dark satisfaction, its tone richer now, as if savoring the moment. "Your descendants. All who would come after you. Your children, your grandchildren, all of them. They will belong to me, their fates entwined with mine. The very blood you carry will be mine to command."
The weight of those words sank deep into his chest. He wanted to scream, to deny it, but his mouth went dry. His future, his legacy—would it all be sacrificed for his own survival?
He staggered back, the full weight of the choice crushing him. How could he make such a sacrifice? How could he condemn future generations to such a fate?
"You don't have to choose now," the voice continued, as if sensing his hesitation. "But know this: the door to your freedom is here. You only need to decide if it's worth it. If your escape is worth the price of your descendants."
He looked around, the world around him still swirling with shadows and uncertainty. The altar's glow seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, as if urging him to make the choice. But there was no turning back once it was made. Once he agreed, his bloodline would be lost to the entity. There was no undoing it.
A cold sweat covered his skin. He could feel the darkness pressing in, could feel the suffocating weight of this impossible decision bearing down on him. But in the end, there was only one question that mattered.
Would he sacrifice everything for his own escape?
He closed his eyes, his mind a whirlwind of panic and fear. Then, with a whispered breath, he said the only thing he could.
"I'll do it. I'll give you my bloodline. Just... just let me out."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, the voice spoke again, its tone filled with a cold finality.
"Very well, mortal. You have chosen. Your descendants will belong to me. And you will be free."
A sharp, almost metallic sound echoed in the distance as the altar's glow intensified. And for the first time since he had arrived in this place, the darkness seemed to part, a narrow path emerging through the shadows, leading to a single door.
The door to his escape.
But as he stepped forward, he could feel the weight of his decision—the cost of his freedom—settling in his chest. He would walk free, but his future would be forever lost.
And there would be no return.
End of Chapter.