The night air was thick with the scent of rain, the distant rumble of thunder rolling across the city. Darian moved through the streets with practiced ease, his steps soundless against the cobblestones. He had left Armand Vayne's estate behind, but his mind remained there. Behind that locked door. Behind the merchant's carefully placed smile.
A secret.
And Darian despised secrets that were not his own. The hunger still stirred in him- not for blood, but for knowledge. He needed to know what was hidden in that chamber, needed to know why the scent of salt and sorrow clung to the very walls of Vayne's home.
The wind shifted.
Darian's steps slowed.
A whisper of movement. The kind only he could hear. He turned a corner and found himself in an alleyway, the darkness stretching long and deep between the buildings. His breath fogged in the cold, but the night itself had gone unnaturally still.
Something watched him.
A lesser creature would have fled.
Darian welcomed it.
A low growl rippled through the silence, too deep, too guttural for anything human. Shadows pooled unnaturally at the edges of the ally, shifting, writhing like something alive. Darian exhaled, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed the veneer of a man to slip. His pupils stretched, devouring his irises in black voids. His fangs ached, lengthening, sharp enough to tear through flesh like paper. The veins beneath his skin darkened, pulsing with unnatural energy, a reminder of the ancient thing coiled within his bones.
The shadows thickened.
Then, they lunged.
Darian didn't move-he didn't need to. The moment they reached him, the darkness itself froze, locked in place mid-air. Tendrils of black twisted and buckled, writhing as if in pain, caught in his unseen grip. His lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of something old. Something terrible. "Reveal yourself."
The shadow convulsed, folding inward- then dissipated. A figure remained in their wake.
A man.
Or something that had once been a man.
His form was hunched, his skin ashen, veins bulging unnaturally along his arms. His eyes were void-black, his breath coming in ragged gasps. A thrall. A creature of the abyss, its soul long since devoured. Darian tilted his head, watching. "Sent by Vayne?" The thrall didn't answer. It couldn't.
Instead, it lunged again. This time, Darian moved. Not the movement of a man. It was faster. One moment, he stood still- next, his hand was wrapped around the creature's throat, lifting it effortlessly from the ground. The thrall clawed at him, gurgling, its body twisting unnaturally as if to reshape itself. Darian squeezed. The creature's form flickered, shifting between flesh and shadow, its body breaking apart like smoke. But Darian's grip held firm.
A slow smile curved his lip. "Abyssal magic," he mused. "Now that is interesting. "The thrall choked out a final, strangled cry before its body collapsed into nothingness, vanishing into the night. Darian released his grip, letting the last wisp of shadow curl away into the wind. Then he turned his gaze upward.
Armand Vayne was no ordinary merchant. He was playing with something far older, far darker than gold and trade. Darian smiled, his fang still bare. How delicious.