Eryndor's breath came in ragged gasps as the darkness slithered into his skin. It wasn't just cold—it was alive, threading itself through his veins like roots searching for purchase. He felt it coil around his thoughts, an overwhelming presence pressing against his mind.
"You are bound to me now," the voice murmured. It was no longer a whisper but a second heartbeat within his soul.
He tried to move, but his body felt like stone. His vision swam, flickering between the vault's shattered reality and something… deeper. A place of endless void, where unseen things stirred.
Then—light.
A searing silver arc cut through the blackness. The force of it sent Eryndor reeling back, the hold on his body loosening just enough for him to suck in a sharp breath.
Selene stood over him, her sword wreathed in glowing runes. Her golden eyes blazed with the clarity of a Weaver Knight in battle.
"Get up," she ordered. "Now."
Eryndor forced himself onto his hands and knees. His head throbbed, his vision shifting between the real world and something… else. The vault was no longer silent. The shadows writhed at the edges, shifting and stretching like grasping fingers.
"They cannot stop what has begun," the voice whispered. "Not even her."
Selene reached down and yanked him to his feet. "Tell me what's happening to you, Vale. No more lies."
Eryndor swallowed hard. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that something had crawled into his soul, that his body was no longer entirely his own. But the words wouldn't come.
Because deep down, some part of him understood.
The voice wasn't just inside him—it was him. A fragment of something ancient, something that had been sealed away for centuries. And now that the seal was broken, it wasn't going to let him go.
Not without a price.
Selene's gaze flickered toward his arm. "Show me."
He hesitated.
"Now, Vale."
Slowly, he pulled back his sleeve. The sigil on his wrist had changed. What had once been a simple black mark now pulsed faintly, as though something beneath his skin was stirring.
Selene's expression darkened. "That's not a curse mark."
Eryndor forced the words out. "Then what is it?"
She looked up at him, her grip tightening on her sword.
"A tether," she said grimly. "Something is bound to you. And if we don't sever it soon… you won't be Eryndor Vale much longer."
A chill crawled down his spine.
Because deep inside, in the place where his thoughts no longer felt entirely his own, the voice laughed.