Nathan gained himself to the feeling of ice against his skin.
He started breathing fast,unable to get his balance, his heart racing. The curse was penetrating again, restless, persistently at the middleof his mind.
His body, soakedin sweat, lay helplessly on the stone floor. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here.
The ancient sigil flowing-in into his skin, the mark that had bound him to this cruel and suffering fate, beats him heavily beneath his palm as he reached out to touch it.
It was as though the very symbol of his torment had become alive. A spinning pattern, dark and rotating, was carved along his forearm, wrapping its way up to his elbow. The lines goes and pause, responding accordingly to his emotions like a living thing.
Nathan bit his teeth as the symbol of the magic began to flow in response to his emotional disturbance.
At first, the lines had been a undesirable, dark black tattoo, a permanent reminder of the formal agreement his ancestors had made with the demonic forces millions years ago.
But as time passed, the mark had grown more complex. It shifrd, expanded, moved, and change space nearly in tune with the chaos of his own thoughts and emotions.
When he was calm, the mark was just a faint shadow under his skin. But now, as the curse sudden come back to life, the sigil move unconsciously, moving up his arm in a spiral form of black veins, glowing incredibly in a fiery dark bloody form.
He closed his eyes, trying to focus. "Calm down…. You need to calm down" Nathan self-talked.
But the memories of the day's events flooded back. He had failed again.
The search for the cure is fruitless.The insight of a way to break the curse lies at there hand.
"There was no way to escape this." The thought come in again.
His heartbeat quickened.
The sigil on his arm showcases immediately. It began to expand, movingviolently like a serpent coiling around his skin. The lines shifted in rough angles, the glowing bloody color widening until his entire forearm seemed to be alive with another part of light.
The room grew colder. He started having blur vission, and the walls seemed to close, like coming nearer to him,darkening as if the very air were being drawn or covered with a magical mark. His breath caught in his throat, a strange fear shooting through him.
"No. Not again," Nathan whispered, his voice hoarse as he fought to push the pain away.
His fingers dug into the stone floor, nails scraping as he tried to anchor himself in order for him not to move due to the magical power.
The magical power burned hotter, darker, more intensifying.
The power of the curse trying to break free from the inner part of his body.
He started having a sudden contraction on his muscle, and the veins in his neck swelled up with the force of it.
The pain was highly unbearable, but it is more than that, it was the loss of control that terrified him.
Probably,he was at its mercy
He was its prioner to the fulllest.
Nathan lifted his arm and looked down at the magical pattern on his hand, now a swirling mass of black energy, a mark that glowed like the heart of a storm.
It's tendrils winding and shifting with his life.
It moved as it is trying to escape,the curse wanting the whole of him from within.
The curse,the demonic pact that had been made by his bloodline centuries ago was far more than just a mark.
It was a living force inside him. One that fed increasingly on his emotions, his anger, his sorrow, his deepest fears.
It grew stronger with each passing day, and Lucian feared that one day it would consume him entirely.
Suddenly, the pain intensified, and the sigil shifted violently, the dark lines expanding across his chest, his ribs, his shoulders.
He could feel the heat surging through his skin, and his heart beeping like an electricity emergency alert, as though the mark itself had taken a deep root inside him.
"No !!! No more !!" He gritted his teeth.
Nathan's breathing grew harder as he struggled to remain conscious.
He could feel that he's approaching the state of his mental instability, as well as he's losing the ability to think and behave normally, as the sigil continued to pulse.
His hand shot out in desperation, looking for anything, anything to anchor him.
The world was as if it was sloping, spinning.
The walls of his room seemed to fade into shadow as though the sigil had opened some unseen door into another world, one of darkness and ancient power.
Just as he thought he might be lost to the curse entirely, a cold gentle light touched his skin. It was not his own magic. He knew that instantly.
A voice soft and vibrant, whispered through the storm in his mind. "Nathan… You're not alone."
His vision cleared for a moment, and in looking into the shadows, he thought he saw a figure of a woman, her face bathed in pale light.
The sigil on his arm reacted immediately, shifting, shrinking, pulling back into the skin.
The darkness comes back illuminating heavily,The vision faded, and the pain come back in hundred folds again, leaving Nathan searching for breath.
His arm was still marked with the sigil, but now it was faint again, a mere form of its former power.
He collapsed back onto the floor, exhausted, his body trembling with the aftershock.
What had just happened?
Had he imagined it? Or was it something more?
He didn't know, but there was one thing he was sure of now the curse was growing stronger, and the mark on his skin wasn't just a prison; it was a very big signal.
A signal that that indicates that something or someone bigger is coming.
......…
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