The torches burned low in the obsidian hall, casting flickering shadows against the ancient stone. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, meant to ward off the creeping corruption that coiled in the corners of the chamber.
Malrik sat upon his throne of black iron, his fingers resting on the armrests, his expression impassive. Before him, robed figures knelt, whispering the old incantations, their voices barely above a murmur.
And yet—he heard nothing.
His mind was elsewhere.
Something had shifted.
A disturbance in the currents of the Void. A pulse. A flicker of power where there should have been only decay.
His jaw tightened.
Kiran.
The boy had survived the Night Reapers. Had resisted the Hollow Mark's corruption. And now…
Now, he was doing something even more dangerous.
He was embracing it.
A Disruption in the Void
Malrik rose, his heavy cloak trailing behind him as he stepped toward the great stone altar at the center of the chamber.
With a flick of his fingers, he waved the sorcerers away. The robed figures retreated into the shadows, their whispers fading.
The air grew cold.
Malrik stretched out a hand over the altar.
Beneath his touch, the black stone rippled as if it were liquid.
A vision formed—the Void Plains, twisting and endless.
And at its heart, a single figure stood amid the ruins of a recent battle.
Kiran.
His blade pulsed with silver fire. His veins burned with something old, something forbidden.
Malrik's lips curled into a sneer.
The fool.
He was walking a path far more treacherous than he understood.
A mortal could not wield such power without consequences.
Malrik knew that better than anyone.
A Dangerous Development
He clenched his fist, and the vision shattered. The stone beneath his hand cracked, its surface turning black and brittle.
He turned sharply as Lyssara stepped from the shadows.
"You felt it too," she said, her voice smooth but laced with tension.
Malrik exhaled slowly, his gaze dark. "He's awakening."
Lyssara folded her arms. "We expected resistance. This isn't unexpected."
Malrik's eyes flickered with something cold. "You don't understand."
Lyssara raised an eyebrow. "Then enlighten me."
Malrik strode past her, his patience thinning. "He is no longer resisting the Mark. He is learning to use it."
A pause.
For the first time, Lyssara hesitated.
She was intelligent enough to understand what that meant.
The Mark's True Purpose
Malrik stopped at the edge of the chamber, gazing out over the blackened landscape beyond the fortress walls.
The Hollow Mark was not simply a curse.
It was a key.
One that could either break a man or make him into something far worse.
Kiran was standing at the precipice.
If he fell, he would become Malrik's greatest weapon.
If he learned to control it…
Then he would become Malrik's greatest threat.
The war was shifting.
Malrik had planned to destroy Kiran.
Now, he might have to break him another way.
He turned back to Lyssara, his voice like steel.
"Find him. Do whatever it takes. But Kiran must not reach the Void Shard."
Lyssara nodded once before vanishing into the shadows.
Malrik remained still for a moment longer, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger.
This was not the first time he had seen power like Kiran's.
And the last man who wielded it had burned the world to ashes.
To Be Continued…