Life... almost feels normal.
Almost.
I've got a routine. Morning: Seraphine, trying to meditate the hunger away. Midday: Master Dren and Kaela, trying to sweat it out. Afternoons: Miren or Elira, trying to think it away.
It's not working.
The village is... better. The stares are still there, but they're not as sharp. The fear is fading. Mine isn't.
The curse is growing. It's not a monster in a cage anymore. It's... it's the shadows in the cage. It's always there. A low, constant thrum in my teeth. Feed. Hunt. Take. Nyssa's stone in my pocket is a cold, grounding weight, but it's like putting a rock on a piece of paper in a hurricane. It's... not enough.
"You're distracted."
Kaela's wooden sword stops a hair's breadth from my nose. I blink. I hadn't even seen her move.
"Sorry."
"That's the third time." She lowers the blade, and her usual fiery grin is gone, replaced by... concern. That's almost worse. "You okay, Ren?"
"Tired."
"You're always tired. Is it...?"
"It's fine. I'm fine." I raise my own sword. "Again."
She doesn't look like she believes me, but she falls back into her stance. We move. Thwack. Clack. Thwack. She's all aggression, all power. I'm all defense, all... Toren's lessons. Minimum effort. Redirect.
It's working. I'm blocking, parrying, my body moving on autopilot.
Then it just... happens.
One second, I'm blocking a high strike. The next... Red.
The world doesn't tint. It snaps into a new, terrible focus. I can hear Kaela's heart. Thump-thump-thump-thump. Fast. I can smell the salt of her sweat... the iron... the blood under her skin.
The hunger... it's not a whisper. It's a ROAR.
TAKE IT.
My hand moves. It's not... it's not my hand. It's too fast. It shoots out, grabbing her wrist. She yelps, a sharp cry of pain and surprise. My grip is... it's like iron. Her bones grind.
My other hand... it's coming up. Reaching for her throat.
"Ren?! What are you—!"
Her face. Through the red, I see her face. Not a... not prey. Not food.
It's Kaela.
Her eyes... they're... scared. Of me.
NO!
The word is a bomb in my head. I wrench control back. It feels like tearing muscle. I let go... I throw her wrist away from me and stumble back, gasping.
The red fades. My gums ache, the fangs receding. I'm shaking.
"Ren?" Kaela's rubbing her wrist, her eyes wide. "What... what was that?"
"I..." My voice is a croak. "I... lost control. The curse. I... I almost..."
"But you didn't." She steps closer. Not away. Closer. "You stopped."
"Barely." I can't stop shaking. "Kaela... I... I could have killed you."
"But you didn't," she says again, her voice hard. "You stopped. That's what matters."
Master Dren is there. I didn't even see him move. His face is grim. "Training's over. Amaki. Go see Seraphine. Now."
I don't argue. I just... turn and run.
I don't go to the temple. Not yet. I just... walk. I need... air. My hands won't stop shaking.
I almost hurt her. I almost killed her.
It's getting stronger. It's never done that before. Not in the day. Not with... her.
You can't hide, the voice whispers. It's smug. I'm part of you. Just... accept it.
The shadow stone is cold in my pocket. But it's not cold enough. It's... not... enough.
I'm so lost in my own head, I almost miss it.
The air... it's wrong.
I stop. I look up. The ley lines. Over my house. They're... flickering. Spasming. That... that's not right. That's... void.
Fear, cold and sharp, cuts through the panic.
Something is wrong.
At home.
I run.
I round the corner, and... no.
The door. It's... it's not a door. It's splinters. Scorch marks... black scorch marks... mar the walls. Miren's garden... trampled. Dead.
"Mama?"
My voice is... small. I sound like a kid.
"Papa...?"
Silence.
I force my legs to move. Inside.
The main room is... gone. Smashed. Furniture overturned. Miren's herbs... scattered. And... blood.
On the floor. Not a lot. But it's there.
"MAMA! PAPA!"
A groan. From the back room.
I'm there in a second. "Papa!"
He's... Toren... he's on the floor. His armor is... cracked. Corroded. His sword... broken. There's a gash across his chest. It's not... it's not bleeding. It's oozing. A black... ichor.
Void.
"Papa!" I drop to my knees. "What... where's Mama?"
His eyes open. They're... gray. Glazed. "Ren... good... you're... safe..."
"Where is she? What happened?!"
"Cult..." His voice is a wet rattle. "Ambush... they... they took her..."
Ice. Just... ice in my veins.
"They... said... to tell you..." He coughs. Black flecks on his lips. "Umbral Hollow... they want... you. Alone. Or... she dies..."
"I... we... I have to get you to Miren... to a healer..."
"No." His hand... it grabs my arm. So tight. "No time... poison... it's... a trap, Ren. Don't... don't go..."
"I can't just leave her!"
"Can't... save her... alone. Get... help. Council..." His grip is fading.
I look at the wound. The black veins... they're spreading. I can see them. Crawling across his skin. Reaching... for his heart.
He doesn't have weeks. He doesn't have hours. He has... minutes.
Normal healing can't stop this.
...But...
The curse... it's... stirring. It's not hungry. It's... interested.
I can heal him, it whispers. The thought slides into my brain, smooth as silk. Void for void. Like calls to like. Let me in, Ren. All the way. And I can burn it out. Save him. And then... we can save her.
"No..." I whisper. "You're... you're lying..."
Am I? You felt it. The light and the dark. I can touch this. Your 'gift' can't. He's dying, Ren. She's suffering. And you're... hesitating.
I look at my father's face. Gray. Dying.
I think of my mother. Taken.
If I do this... I lose myself. I know it.
If I don't... they're both dead.
"Ren...?" His voice is... a breath. "Don't... promise... me... don't..."
He's begging me to let him die. To let her die.
I can't.
I can't be that weak.
I look at the black, crawling veins. I feel the curse, eager, waiting.
I make my choice.
I reach for the dark.