I didn't leave my room after the duel.
Not the next day. Not the day after that. Not the week after or the month after.
I couldn't face them. Couldn't face the servants who'd seen me lose. Couldn't face the nobles who'd witnessed my humiliation. Couldn't face my father's cold disappointment. Couldn't face Cedric's "I told you so" that he was too professional to say aloud.
Most of all, I couldn't face the memory of Sera's cold eyes.
Clara brought my meals three times a day, left them outside my door with two knocks. Sometimes I ate them. Most times I didn't.
"Young master," she'd say gently through the door. "You need to eat. You need to keep your strength up."
I didn't respond.
What was the point of strength? I'd been strong. Trained for years. And it hadn't mattered. I'd still lost. Still hurt someone I cared about. Still become a monster.
The days blurred together. Sleep, wake, stare at the ceiling. Sometimes eat. Mostly just exist in the grey numbness that had become my default state.
It was like being back in that room in my grandmother's house. Except this time, I had working legs. This time, I'd chosen this prison.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Letters came. I could hear Clara leaving them outside my door. I never opened them.
If they were from Sera, and some probably were, I couldn't bear to read her words. Couldn't bear to see her politeness, her pity, or worse, her justified anger.
If they were from others, I didn't care what they had to say.
Cedric came to my door once.
"Aldric. Open the door."
I stayed silent.
"You lost a duel. It's not the end of the world. You're thirteen years old. You have time to recover, to rebuild, to...."
"Go away."
"Aldric!"
"GO AWAY!"
He left. Didn't come back.
My father didn't come at all. Why would he? I'd embarrassed the family name. Proven myself unworthy of the Ashford legacy. Become yet another disappointment in his life.
Better to ignore me. Pretend I didn't exist.
The numbness deepened. Settled into my bones like frost.
I was Kenji Yamamoto again. Broken, useless, waiting to die.
Except this time, I'd done it to myself.
Weeks became months.
I stopped bathing regularly. Stopped changing clothes. Stopped doing anything that required effort beyond the absolute minimum to stay alive.
My room became a cave. Dark, with curtains drawn against the sunlight. Stale. Musty with the smell of unwashed body and uneaten food.
I barely noticed.
Clara still brought meals. Still knocked twice. Still spoke gentle words through the door.
I started to resent her for it. For her kindness. For her persistence. For refusing to just give up on me like I'd given up on myself.
"Young master, please," she said one morning, or maybe it was afternoon, I'd lost track of time. "At least let me in to clean your room. It can't be healthy in there."
"Go away."
"Aldric..."
"I said GO AWAY! Stop bothering me! Stop pretending you care! Just leave me alone!"
Silence.
Then quietly, in a voice that broke: "As you wish, young master."
Her footsteps retreated down the hall.
I felt nothing. Not guilt. Not satisfaction. Just the same empty numbness.
She stopped speaking through the door after that. Just left the meals in silence. Two knocks. Nothing more.
Good. Better that way. Better that everyone just left me alone to rot in peace.
I'm not sure how much time passed. Months, definitely. Maybe close to a year.
I'd lost track. Days had no meaning. Time was just something that happened while I stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about anything.
One day, I didn't know what day, what month, Clara knocked on my door.
Not twice. Five times. Urgent.
"Young master," her voice was tight, formal, cold in a way I'd never heard before. "Your father summons you. Immediately. The entire family is gathering in the great hall."
"Tell him I'm not coming."
"Young master, this is not a request. Lady Beatrice has passed away. The funeral is this afternoon. All family members are required to attend."
Lady Beatrice. My father's third wife. Friedrich and Celestia's mother.
She'd died.
I should feel something about that. Should feel... anything.
But there was just the numbness.
"I'm not going."
"Young master..."
"I said I'm not going! What part of that is unclear? Tell Father I'm sick. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him whatever you want. I'm not attending."
Another long silence.
"As you wish," Clara finally said, and the disappointment in her voice was palpable.
I heard her footsteps retreat. Heard her tell someone, a servant, probably, that I refused to attend.
Heard the whispers that followed. Disrespectful. Disgraceful. Without honor. No wonder the Duke ignores him. Poor excuse for a noble.
I didn't care.
Let them think what they wanted. Their opinions meant nothing to me.
The funeral was held without me.
I stayed in my room, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Somewhere in the manor, nobles were gathering. Paying respects. Performing their social obligations.
And I was here. Absent. Confirming every terrible thing they thought about me.
The disrespectful bum who couldn't even be bothered to attend his stepmother's funeral.
Part of me, a distant, muted part, whispered that this was wrong. That I should go. That Lady Beatrice had never done anything to me, and her children were grieving, and absence was cruelty. But then I thought... What if she had something to do with Mom's death? I wanted to believe that this was karma.
But that part was drowned out by the numbness. By the apathy. By the simple fact that I couldn't make myself care.
What was one more failure added to the pile?
Night had fallen when my door slammed open.
I jerked up in bed, squinting against the sudden light from the hallway.
My father stood in the doorway.
I'd barely seen him in months. He looked the same as always, tall, imposing, those ice-blue eyes cold and calculating. But there was something different now. A tightness around his mouth. A rage barely contained beneath his usual stone exterior.
"Out of bed. Now." His voice was quiet, deadly.
"I don't want to"
"NOW!"
I scrambled out of bed, my legs weak from disuse. Nearly fell. Caught myself on the bedpost.
My father's nose wrinkled slightly. At the smell, probably. The room reeked. I reeked.
"Do you have any idea," he said, each word carefully enunciated, "what you've done?"
"I didn't go to the funeral. I know."
"You didn't think. You didn't consider. You didn't do the bare minimum expected of a member of this family." He took a step closer, and I instinctively backed away. "Every noble family in the region was there today. Paying respects. Performing their duty. And where was my son? The second son of Duke Ashford? Nowhere. Absent. Conspicuously, deliberately absent."
"She was nothing to me. Just another..."
"Just another what? Another person in your life you can't be bothered to respect? Another obligation you find too inconvenient?" His voice rose slightly. "Friedrich and Celestia lost their mother today. They grieved publicly, with dignity, as nobles should. When your mother died, they performed their duties as nobles. And their half-brother, you couldn't even show your face for an hour. Couldn't even pretend to care."
"Why should I pretend? Why should I perform for people I don't give a fuck about..."
"Because that's what nobles DO!" He was shouting now, the first time I'd ever heard him raise his voice. "We perform. We maintain appearances. We uphold the family name even when we don't want to. That's the responsibility that comes with the privilege you've enjoyed your entire life!"
He turned away, paced toward the window, then back. Visibly controlling himself.
"The other nobles are calling you a disgrace," he said more quietly. "A.... bum without honor. A spoiled child who's been coddled too long. And they're not wrong."
The words should have stung. Should have made me defensive.
They just bounced off the numbness.
"I don't care what they think."
"Then care about this." He stopped in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes. "In one year, you'll be fifteen. Old enough to attend the Royal Academy. And before that, it's customary, expected for nobles of your age to participate in subjugation missions with the kingdom's knights. To prove themselves. To gain experience. To make a name for themselves before entering the Academy."
He crossed his arms. "Every noble child does this. It's how you establish your reputation, your worth, your place in society. Without it, you'll arrive at the Academy as... what you are right now. A nobody. A disappointment. Someone without talent or drive or anything to recommend them."
"I don't want to go on missions."
"I don't care what you want." His voice went cold again. "You have a choice, Aldric. You can shape up, start training again, participate in at least two subjugation missions before Academy enrollment, prove you're worth the Ashford name...or you can continue as you are and watch your future crumble."
"I choose to continue as I am."
The words came out flat, emotionless.
My father stared at me for a long moment. Then something in his expression shifted. Not anger anymore. Something worse.
Disappointment. Complete, final disappointment.
"Your mother," he said quietly, "believed you were special. Believed you had potential. Believed you would be something great." He turned toward the door. "She died thinking that. I suppose that's a mercy. At least she never saw what you actually became."
He left, closing the door behind him with careful, deliberate quietness.
That hurt more than shouting would have.
I stood there in the dark of my room, his words echoing.
At least she never saw what you actually became.
He was right.
My mother had believed in me. Had loved me unconditionally. Had thought I was special.
And I'd become this. A broken, useless thing that couldn't even manage basic human decency.
She'd be ashamed of me.
The thought sat heavy in my chest, but even that weight felt distant. Muted by the numbness.
I climbed back into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and tried to sleep.
I noticed the ring the next morning.
It was sitting on my bedside table, small and unremarkable. Silver band, no decorations, nothing special about it.
I didn't remember it being there yesterday. Didn't remember seeing it ever.
Clara must have left it. Some inheritance from Lady Beatrice, maybe. One last obligation I'd ignored.
I picked it up, intending to throw it across the room. Add it to the pile of things I didn't care about.
The moment my skin touched the metal, something happened.
Dark mana, visible, tangible, thick as smoke, poured from the ring. Just a small amount, a tendril, but unmistakable.
I dropped it immediately. It clattered back onto the table.
Dark mana. The kind that demons use, Forbidden magic. The kind that got you executed by the Church or the Empire, whichever got you first.
Why would Clara leave me something like this?
Unless... she hadn't.
I stared at the ring, frowning.
Then I heard it.
A voice. Female. Irritated.
"Finally. I was starting to think you were completely brain-dead."
I spun around. Nobody there. My door was still locked. Window still closed. Room empty except for me.
"Don't bother looking around, idiot. I'm in your head. Or, I'm in the ring. But now I'm also in your head. It's complicated."
This was a hallucination. Had to be. I'd finally snapped. Too much isolation, too much wallowing in selfpity, too much....
"You're not hallucinating. Though given the state of this room, I wouldn't be surprised if you were seeing other things. When's the last time you bathed? You smell like something died in here."
"Who are you?" I said aloud, then felt stupid for talking to empty air.
"Took you long enough to ask. Name's Asura. I'm a demon. Well, former demon. Currently sealed in a dagger buried in the forest outside your manor. And you, lucky boy, get to be my ticket out."
A demon. Of course. Why not? My life was already a disaster. Might as well add demonic possession to the list.
"Now, here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave this depressing hole you call a room, go into the forest, and dig me up. Then we can have a proper conversation about mutually beneficial arrangements."
"I'm not doing that."
"Oh yes, you are. Because I'm not going to shut up until you do. And trust me, I can be VERY persistent."
"I'll just get rid of the ring."
"Already tried that, didn't you? Touched it to throw it away. That's all it takes. Connection's made. I'm in your head now, whether you like it or not."
She was right. I'd touched it. Whatever connection existed had already been established.
"So. Forest. Dagger. Let's go."
"No."
"No?"
"No. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here. And if you're in my head, you can enjoy rotting with me."
There was a pause. Then laughter. Not amused laughter. Mocking.
"Oh, this is perfect. Of all the people who could have found my ring, I get the depressed teenager with a death wish. The universe has a sense of humor after all."
"Leave me alone."
"Can't. We're linked now. You're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you. So we might as well make the best of it."
"I said, leave me alone."
"And I said I can't. Were you listening? I know you're depressed and everything, but try to keep up. I'm a demon sealed in a dagger. You touched my ring. Now I can talk to you telepathically. And I WILL keep talking until you get off your ass and do what I say."
"Fine. Talk all you want. I'm going back to sleep."
"That's your plan? Sleep through this?"
"That's my plan for everything."
I pulled the covers over my head, closed my eyes.
The voice continued. And continued. And continued.
She narrated everything. The dust particles in the air. The smell of the room. The state of my sheets. The pathetic nature of my existence. The various ways I was wasting my life.
She did not shut up.
Not that night. Not the next day. Not the day after.
Every waking moment, her voice was there. Commentary. Nagging. Insults. Observations. Demands that I go to the forest.
I ignored her. Or tried to.
But after three weeks of constant mental chatter, I was losing my mind.
Sleep became impossible. She'd narrate my dreams. Wake me up with random thoughts. Ask questions she knew I wouldn't answer just to fill the silence.
"You know what I miss? Food. I mean, I don't need food anymore. Demon and all. But I miss the experience. Do you appreciate food? Because you should. You have a working mouth and you're wasting it on stale bread and cold soup. That's tragic."
"SHUT UP!"
"No. Not until you come find me. That's the deal. I talk until you cave. So you can either cave now or cave later. But you will cave."
"Why me? Why are you bothering me specifically?"
"Because you touched the ring, genius. I've been trying to reach anyone for decades. Anyone at all. You're the first person to touch it in years. So congratulations, you won the lottery of inconvenience."
"I didn't ask for this."
"And I didn't ask to be sealed in a dagger by a bunch of self-righteous Church assholes. Life's unfair. Now come dig me up so we can figure out what to do about it."
I buried my face in my pillow.
She kept talking.
Four weeks after the voice started, I cracked.
I hadn't slept properly in days. Every time I closed my eyes, she was there. Every moment of silence, she filled it.
I was exhausted. Mentally, physically, completely depleted.
"You know, you could just give in. Save us both the trouble. I promise the forest isn't that scary."
"Fine!" I shouted at the empty room. "FINE! I'll go to your stupid forest! Just SHUT UP!"
"See? Was that so hard? We could have done this weeks ago if you weren't so stubborn."
"When?"
"Now."
"It's the middle of the night."
"Perfect. No one will see you leave. And trust me, you don't want an audience for what comes next."
That should have been a warning. Should have made me reconsider.
But I was too tired, too desperate for the voice to stop to care.
I dragged myself out of bed, threw on clothes that were relatively clean, though everything smelled at this point... and crept to my window.
The manor was quiet. Everyone asleep. Guards on their patrols but predictable.
I slipped out, using the route I'd memorized years ago when I'd still cared about being capable.
The forest loomed beyond the manor grounds, dark and imposing.
"Straight ahead. About a quarter mile in. You'll know when you're close."
"How?"
"Trust me. You'll know."
I walked into the forest, expecting to feel afraid. But the numbness had consumed even fear.
What was the worst that could happen? I'd die in a forest? Better than dying in that room.
The forest should have been dangerous. I knew that intellectually. Monsters lived in the forests of Aeternum. Wolves, bears, and worse things with magic.
But nothing approached me.
I could hear them. Rustling in the undergrowth. Eyes watching from the darkness. But they stayed away. Gave me a wide berth.
"They can sense the ring. Sense me, by extension. Smart enough to know not to mess with a demon's chosen. Even sealed, I'm dangerous."
"Your chosen?"
"Figure of speech. You're just the idiot who touched the ring. Don't let it go to your head."
The deeper I walked, the more wrong everything felt. The trees grew sparser. The air grew colder. Even the sounds of insects faded away.
And then I saw it.
A clearing. Perfect circle. Not a single blade of grass grew within it. Not a single plant dared to take root.
The earth was dark, almost black. Barren in a way that spoke of something fundamentally wrong.
"There. Center of the clearing. Dig."
"Dig with what?"
"Your hands? A stick? I don't care. Just dig."
I found a fallen branch and used it to start breaking up the earth. It was hard, packed tight, resistant.
But I kept digging. Deeper. Deeper.
Until I hit something solid.
Metal.
I used my hands now, scooping away dirt. Revealing a dagger.
It was... ordinary. Plain steel, simple design, wrapped in leather that had somehow survived burial. Nothing ornate or special about it.
Except for the dark mana.
It poured from the blade like smoke. Thick, visible, oppressive. Dark purple, almost black, with currents of deep red.
This was what forbidden magic looked like. What the Church executed people for possessing.
"Go on. Pick it up. It won't bite."
"It looks like it will absolutely bite."
"Only one way to find out."
I reached for it. Hesitated.
"What's the worst that could happen? You die? From where I'm sitting, you're already dead. Just haven't stopped moving yet."
She had a point.
I grabbed the dagger.
Pain.
Immediate, overwhelming, all-consuming pain.
It felt like my blood was boiling. Like every cell in my body was tearing apart and reforming. Like lightning was coursing through my veins.
I tried to drop the dagger. Couldn't. My hand had locked around it, muscles seizing, unable to let go.
Dark mana poured from the blade into me. Not gently. Not gradually. All at once, a flood, a tsunami, too much for my body to contain.
I felt my blood vessels rupture. Felt my skin crack. Felt my insides tearing themselves apart.
I was screaming. Couldn't stop screaming.
And then...
Everything went white.
When my vision cleared, I wasn't in the forest anymore.
I was... somewhere else. Nowhere. A void of white emptiness that stretched infinitely in all directions.
And I wasn't alone.
She stood in front of me. Maybe ten feet away.
Asura.
She looked young, maybe sixteen or seventeen in appearance, with skin so pale it was almost luminescent. Her hair was white, snow-white, falling straight to her waist like silk. Her eyes were red. Not brown-red or amber-red. Pure crimson, like fresh blood, with cat-like slits for pupils.
And she had fangs. Not subtle. Sharp, prominent canines that showed when she smiled.
She was small, maybe five and a half feet tall at most, and dressed in something that looked like a torn black dress, tattered at the edges like it had been shredded.
But what struck me most was her presence. Power radiated from her like heat from a fire. Old power. Ancient. Terrifying.
And yet... she looked amused.
"Finally," she said, and it was the same voice from my head. "A proper meeting. You look even more pathetic in person. Impressive."
"Where am I?"
"Inside your own mind. Or mine. It's hard to tell the difference when we're this connected. Think of it as neutral ground while I try to take over your body."
"Take over?"
"Oh please, don't act surprised. I'm a demon. You picked up a cursed dagger. What did you think would happen? We'd become friends and braid each other's hair?"
She started walking toward me, and I instinctively backed away.
"Here's how this works," she said casually. "I've been sealed for decades. Weak. Powerless. But you, stupid, depressed human, you just gave me direct access to your body. So now I'm going to take it, use it, and finally be free. Your consciousness will fade, and I'll get to live again. Simple."
"I won't..."
"You won't what? Let me take over? You can barely fight your way out of bed." She tilted her head, studying me. "Though I have to say, even in my weakened state, I expected this to be easier. Your consciousness should have dissolved by now. Just... poof. Gone. But you're still here. Still conscious. Why is that?"
She moved closer, circling me like a predator.
"Oh. OH." She started laughing. "This is rich. You're too weak. Your body, I mean. Too damaged, too fragile, too broken from months of neglect. I can't fully possess you because the moment I try to push my full power in, you'll literally explode. Your body can't handle even a fraction of what I am."
She stopped in front of me, grinning with those sharp fangs.
"So we're stuck. You're too pathetic for me to possess without killing you, which would kill me too, since I'm bound to this body now. And I'm too strong for you to forcibly evict. We're locked in a stalemate in your own mind. Isn't that hilarious?"
"So... what happens now?"
"Now?" She shrugged. "Now we make a deal. I can't take your body by force. But I can make your life a living hell until you either strengthen yourself enough for me to properly possess you or die trying. Either way, I win eventually."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you go back to your sad little room, continue your sad little existence, and listen to me narrate every depressing moment until you die of old age. Or boredom. Whichever comes first." She leaned closer. "Or... you could use me."
"Use you?"
"I'm a demon, boy. I have power. Knowledge. Capabilities you can't imagine. And right now, I'm stuck in you. Which means my power is your power. Sort of. In limited doses. Enough to make you dangerous without killing you."
She held out her hand. "Dark magic. The forbidden stuff the Church kills people for. I can teach you. Make you strong. Strong enough to matter. Strong enough to never be weak again. Isn't that what you want?"
It was. Deep down, beneath the numbness, that's what I'd always wanted.
To never be weak. Never be helpless. Never be the person who couldn't protect anything that mattered.
"What's the catch?"
"Smart boy. The catch is threefold." She counted on her fingers. "One: Every time you use my power, I get a little bit stronger. Get closer to being able to take over completely. Two: dark magic is illegal, so you'll be risking execution just by existing with it. Three: the more you rely on me, the harder it'll be to separate us. Eventually, you and I will be so intertwined that 'you' and 'me' become meaningless concepts."
"So you're offering me power at the cost of eventually losing myself completely."
"Exactly!" She clapped her hands. "I knew you weren't completely stupid. So what do you say? Partnership? Mutual exploitation? Slow-burn possession disguised as cooperation?"
"Why would I agree to that?"
"Because right now, you're nothing. You have nothing. You are nothing. You've given up. You're waiting to die." Her red eyes bored into mine. "I'm offering you a reason not to. A chance to be dangerous again. To matter. To make everyone who dismissed you regret it."
She smiled, showing all those sharp teeth.
"I'm offering you power, boy. The only question is whether you're brave enough, or desperate enough to take it."
I looked at her. At the demon who'd invaded my mind. Who wanted to steal my body? Who was offering me exactly what I'd always wanted, wrapped in a guarantee of eventual destruction.
This was a terrible idea. Obviously, catastrophically terrible.
But terrible ideas were all I had left.
"What do I have to do?"
Her smile widened. "First? Survive. Your body is still in the forest, convulsing and bleeding from every orifice while my power tears through you. You need to hold on long enough not to die. Think you can manage that?"
"I don't know."
"Then you'd better learn fast. Because if you die, I die. And I have far too much revenge to enact to let that happen." She stepped back. "I'll help. Push back against my power. Try to contain it. Turn it from a flood into a stream. Can you do that?"
"I don't know how!"
"Figure it out! You've trained, haven't you? Mana control? Breathing? Use it! Before your heart literally explodes!"
She snapped her fingers, and the white void shattered.
I was back in my body. In the forest. Lying on my back. The dagger was still clenched in my hand.
And the pain, oh gods, the pain
Everything was burning. Every nerve. Every cell. My vision was red. Blood. My blood. Leaking from my eyes, my nose, my ears.
I was dying.
"Breathe!" Asura's voice in my head. "Remember your training! Breathe in, gather the mana! Breathe out, circulate it! Don't let it pool! Keep it moving!"
I tried. Gasped a breath. Felt the dark mana inside me, chaotic and violent.
Breathe in. Gather.
Breathe out. Circulate.
It barely helped. The mana was too strong, too foreign, too much.
"Again! Keep going! You stop, you die!"
Breathe in. Gather.
Breathe out. Circulate.
Slowly, so slowly, the chaos began to settle. The mana stopped tearing me apart. Started flowing. Like water finding a channel instead of flooding randomly.
My blood vessels stopped rupturing. My skin stopped cracking. The pain receded from "dying" to merely "agonizing."
I lay there for what might have been hours. Just breathing. Just circulating. Just holding on.
When I finally opened my eyes, dawn was breaking. Grey light filtered through the trees.
I was alive.
Covered in blood. Weak as a newborn. But alive.
The dagger was still in my hand. The dark mana was still there, but contained now. Flowing through me instead of destroying me.
"Well," Asura said, and she sounded impressed. "You didn't die. Honestly didn't think you had it in you. Guess there's some backbone buried under all that depression after all."
I tried to respond. Couldn't form words. Too exhausted.
"Come on. Get up. You need to get back to the manor before someone finds you looking like you bathed in blood. That'll raise questions you don't want to answer."
She was right. As much as I didn't want to move, staying here wasn't an option.
I forced myself to my feet. Stumbled. Caught myself against a tree.
The forest was silent. Even the animals that had watched me before were gone now. Driven away by whatever had just happened.
I made my way back to the manor slowly, painfully. Every step is an effort. Every breath is a reminder of how close I'd come to dying.
When I reached my window, the sun was fully up. Servants would be awake. Guards changing shifts.
I climbed through anyway, too tired to be careful.
Collapsed on my bed, still covered in dried blood.
"You know," Asura said conversationally, "for someone who wanted to die, you sure tried hard to live just now. Interesting."
I didn't respond. Couldn't. Just lay there, breathing, existing.
Bound now to a demon who wanted my body.
Infused with dark magic that could get me executed.
Changed fundamentally in ways I didn't understand yet.
But alive.
For the first time in over a year, I felt something other than numbness.
I felt... excitement, no, something similar
Dangerous possibility. Terrible possibility. Possibility that would probably destroy me.
But possibility nonetheless.
"Sleep," Asura said, and there was something almost gentle in her tone. "You've earned it. We'll talk about our arrangement when you wake up. And boy? Welcome to your second chance. Try not to waste this one."
I closed my eyes and fell into darkness.
But this time, I wasn't sure if I was falling or finally starting to climb back up.