Ethan's breath was heavy, his lungs burning with the frigid air, but he couldn't move.
Before him, surrounded by snow stained with splinters of wood and the silence that followed the fall of the wolf, lay the book.
Its black leather cover was rough and worn, marked by time and use. Dark metal chains, ancient and heavy, bound its structure, with clasps sealing it as if it were a forbidden lock. And yet, something inside that book… was breathing.
Ethan swallowed hard.
Every instinct screamed at him not to look. But he did.
And that's when he felt it.
An intention.
It wasn't a sound, not a voice. It was something he just knew. An overwhelming presence emerging from the book, as if something had been watching from within, waiting far too long to be awakened.
Ethan took a step back, the hairs on his neck standing on end.
Something was calling to him.
The urge to open the chained book was irresistible. He knew he shouldn't, that it was madness even to consider it. But his mind felt pulled, his thoughts scrambled by a force he couldn't comprehend.
He clenched his fists.
"Shit…"
What do protagonists usually do in situations like this to receive a blessing from something unknown?
They give their own blood.
The idea appeared in his mind as if it wasn't his own.
But that was the problem.
Because Ethan wasn't stupid.
If this book was sealed by the Sorcerer himself, it wasn't something good.
But… what if it had been imprisoned for the wrong reasons?
After all, the book had just saved him.
The wolf fell the instant the book appeared.
It wasn't a coincidence.
A weight settled on his chest.
He had to decide.
With a calculated move, Ethan pulled out his slingshot and aimed at the book.
If it was a mistake, better to eliminate it now.
He held his breath, preparing to fire.
But then—
The wolf's wooden tail, which had been lying dead and motionless, moved.
Fast. Precise.
And struck Ethan's hand with a sharp blow.
The impact wasn't strong enough to break his bones, but it was enough to make his shot miss—and, more importantly, it opened a cut on his skin.
Ethan's eyes widened.
He saw, in slow motion, the blood dripping from the wound.
And then—
The crimson drop fell onto the book's cover.
Time stopped.
The chains snapped like they'd been struck by lightning.
A scarlet glow spread through the sealed pages, sparking through the cracks in the chains. A sound resonated in the air, something Ethan had never heard before—like a thousand voices whispering at once, like a choir singing underwater, like something ancient and forgotten that should never have been remembered.
And then—
The chains shattered.
The book opened on its own, its pages flipping at an impossible speed, as if searching for something specific within.
Unknown symbols rose into the air, lifting from the pages as if alive. They danced, glowed, twisted. Until they finally formed words.
Words Ethan could understand.
"You freed me."
"Your debt will be paid."
"Blood for blood."
Ethan's heart raced.
The pages kept turning, as if the book itself had a purpose. And then… they stopped.
The book opened to two pages completely filled with runes and indecipherable writings. But amidst the words, right in the center, something shimmered.
A drop of blood.
It wasn't a stain, nor a mark. It was real liquid, floating, spinning above the book as if it had a will of its own.
The book didn't need to say anything.
Ethan understood what it was.
"The drop of an ancient god's blood."
"Dormant within my pages, meant to be forgotten."
"Now you will have the chance to possess it."
"May you receive this curse."
Ethan's chest tightened.
Every fiber of his being screamed that he didn't want this.
Nothing good ever comes from having an ancient god parasitize your body.
He tried to step back, but it was too late.
The drop left the pages.
It floated.
And then, before he could react—
It pierced straight into his chest.
Ethan's world exploded with pain.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping, clutching his chest. His heart raced uncontrollably, as if it were trying to escape his ribcage.
Then the pain spread.
His blood burned. Every vein, every artery, every drop inside him was consumed by a sensation that wasn't just heat but something deeper, older.
His entire body began to purge his mortal blood.
He felt the liquid seeping from his pores, pouring from his eyes, mouth, nose, ears. Every cell in him screamed in agony.
He couldn't think.
He couldn't breathe.
He passed out.
The book watched.
Its pages curled in a way that seemed… satisfied.
Symbols reorganized themselves among the texts.
And then, slowly, a smile formed within the words.
It had succeeded.
And, fulfilling its own curse, the book began to float.
It rose into the sky, spinning, ready to disappear forever.
But then—
Something intercepted it.
A white crow.
The book floated in the air, shrouded in a dark, pulsating aura. The chains that once sealed it now lay shattered around it, scattered in the snow like fragments of a forgotten past.
Ethan, collapsed on the ground, gasped weakly. His body trembled, still feeling the remnants of the searing pain that had ravaged every cell in his being. His blood, once ordinary, now carried something beyond comprehension—something that should never exist within a mortal.
He couldn't move.
And then the book began to rise, slowly, as if bidding farewell to its ancient prison.
But it didn't get far.
Something intercepted it.
The air exploded with a sharp sound, like reality itself tearing, and a figure cut through the sky in a blur of white.
A white crow.
The collision between the two was colossal. The air around them trembled, as if reality was being ripped apart by their clash. The crow was small compared to the book, but it moved with relentless precision, its wings glowing with pure light—a white so intense it seemed like a fragment of the very firmament.
The book reacted.
The words filling its pages lifted from the paper. They twisted in the air, merging into grotesque forms—spectral claws made of an unknown alphabet. Symbols flashed and dissolved in the next instant, forming unpredictable attacks.
The crow spun in the air, dodging with supernatural agility. With a single flap of its wings, it released a burst of white light, shooting beams like tiny spears that pierced through the symbols, turning them to dust.
The book roared.
Yes, roared.
Not a physical sound, but something that vibrated directly in the mind—a chorus of ancient, dark voices reciting words in a forbidden tongue.
The aura around it changed.
The pages began to twist and curl, becoming monstrous, like claws and fangs ready to tear apart anything in their path. Then the book attacked.
From the center of its open pages, a cyclone of dark words erupted, spinning like a devouring storm. The words weren't just symbols—they were living curses. Wherever they touched, even the snow disintegrated, leaving dark voids in the air as if the fabric of reality itself was being consumed.
The crow dove, weaving through the voids formed by the curses.
It flapped its wings once—and space around it bent.
Time seemed to slow down.
Moving between the curses with surreal grace, it appeared behind the book in an instant. Its body shone like the sun, and suddenly, it began to divide.
Two. Three. Five.
A dozen white crows appeared in the sky, identical, flying in circles around the book like a celestial swarm.
The book twisted, sensing the danger. Larger symbols emerged from its pages, forming chains of words as sharp as blades. They lashed through the air, trying to strike the crows.
But they were too fast.
Far too fast.
The crows began to sing.
Ethan, even while collapsed, heard the sound.
It was something that shouldn't exist.
A pure song, something that sounded like an ancient melody—a forgotten prayer from time immemorial. The vibration touched the book, and immediately, its symbols began to tremble, its structure distorting as if being forced to remember its own fragility.
The book reacted violently.
From its center, a new attack emerged.
This time, the pages spat out shadows.
They took grotesque forms, resembling eyeless, faceless creatures, yet filled with malevolent presence. The specters lunged at the crows, their toothless mouths open in silent screams.
But the crows didn't retreat.
They burned.
Each of them shone with an incandescent white fire—a heat that didn't consume but purified.
They hurled themselves at the shadows, and wherever they touched, the darkness evaporated, cleansed by the intense light.
The book trembled.
It knew it was losing.
Then, at the climax of the battle, one crow stood out.
It didn't attack.
It simply dropped two feathers.
They fell like lances, heading straight for the book.
The book tried to close, but it was too late.
The white feathers pierced its cover.
The impact was devastating.
An impossible sound echoed, something Ethan felt vibrating in his soul. It was a noise so profound it seemed to swallow every other sound in the world—as if the cosmos itself had held its breath.
The feathers exploded in a blinding flash.
The book plummeted from the sky.
That's when the Sorcerer appeared.
He caught one of the still-floating feathers.
With a crooked smile, he used it to write something on the book's cover.
And then, reality shattered.
Not physically.
But as if an impossible weight had been imposed on that very moment.
Time seemed to freeze.
The pressure from what had been written on the book was so immense that space itself warped around it. Ancient symbols gleamed, folding like the gears of a universal mechanism.
And then—
Chains appeared from nowhere.
Golden. Black. Shimmering. Infinite.
They coiled around the book like ravenous serpents, binding it once more, sealing what should never have been freed.
The Sorcerer took a step back, admiring his work.
Then he looked at Ethan.
The second white feather still floated, slowly descending until it touched Ethan's fallen form.
And when it brushed his skin—
All his wounds closed.
The blood dripping from his mouth and nose dried.
His heart slowed.
He breathed.
Still weak. Still confused. But alive.
The Sorcerer chuckled.
"You're always so kind, White."
The crow spun in the air, glaring at him with disdain before flying back toward the cauldron.
Ethan remained on the ground, his chest rising and falling slowly.
But he was no longer the same.
And within him, something had awakened.