For a long moment, neither spoke. The old man studied Aster carefully, his too-sharp eyes taking in every detail—the exhaustion, the desperation, the faint traces of demonic energy that clung to him like a second skin.
Finally, the old man spoke. His voice was dry and raspy but clear. "So, what brings you here to the Church, young man?"
The question was simple, but Aster knew it carried weight. This was the first test. How he answered would determine whether he was accepted or turned away.
Aster took a deep breath, organizing his scattered thoughts as best he could. Then he began to speak.
He told the old man everything—or at least, as much as he could remember. The party where something had gone wrong. The dreams and visions. The Eye of Evil marking him. His father's revelation and death. The baker's murder. The plague now spreading across the kingdom. The disappearance of his sister and the household staff. The terrible presence that ate memories.
He left nothing out, even the parts that made him look guilty or corrupted or dangerous. If he was going to join the Church of the Evil Sage, there could be no deception. They would see through lies anyway—people who dealt in ultimate truth wouldn't be fooled by simple dishonesty.
When Aster finished, silence fell again. The old man's expression hadn't changed throughout the recitation—still neutral, still observing.
"The White Dragon Kingdom is indeed in chaos," the old man finally said. "An incurable plague that struck from nowhere, spreading through dreams and touching the minds of the innocent. The authorities call it the Cursed King's Plague and lay the blame at your feet." He paused. "But you seek to understand the truth of what's happening. To find answers and solutions. That is why you've come to us."
"Yes," Aster confirmed. "I need knowledge. Knowledge that only the Sage can provide. I need to understand what my father truly was. What entity is eating memories. How to stop the plague. How to save my sister."
The old man nodded slowly. "The Sage knows all things—past, present, future, and the spaces between. It can answer any question, reveal any truth, solve any mystery." His sharp eyes fixed on Aster. "But to access that knowledge, you must dedicate your life to the Sage. Everything you own. Everything you like. Everything you are. You must surrender it all in service to the pursuit of truth."
The weight of those words settled on Aster's shoulders like a physical burden.
"Are you ready to do that?" the old man asked quietly.
Aster paused, considering. He'd already lost so much. His father was dead—or had never really been his father at all. His reputation was destroyed. His home was corrupted. His sister was missing. He was branded as the Cursed King and hunted by the entire kingdom.
What did he really have left to give up?
And if giving it up meant finding the truth, meant stopping the plague, meant saving Lily...
"Yes," Aster said firmly. "I know the consequences, and I accept them. I'll dedicate my life to the Sage if that's what it takes."
The old man studied him for another long moment. Then he nodded. "Very well. We will begin your initiation tomorrow. Tonight, you rest and—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
His face went pale. His eyes went wide with something that might have been fear or might have been horror. His hand clutched at his chest, and he swayed where he stood.
"What's wrong?" Aster asked, alarmed. "Are you—"
"Did you come here alone?" the old man interrupted, his voice suddenly urgent, almost desperate.
The question was so unexpected that Aster just stared at him for a moment. "What? Yes, I came here alone. Why? What's wrong?"
The old man tried to speak but couldn't. His mouth opened and closed silently, as if the words were being physically prevented from emerging. A wave of visible nausea passed over his face, and he stumbled backward.
"Someone help!" Aster called out, standing quickly despite his exhaustion. "He's having some kind of attack!"
The other disciples rushed over, supporting the old man, helping him into a chair. One began checking his vitals while another rushed to fetch water and medicine.
But the old man pushed them away with surprising strength. He grabbed Aster's arm with a grip like iron, pulling him close. His eyes—those sharp, knowing eyes—were now filled with absolute terror.
"You're cursed," the old man managed to gasp out.
Aster's world tilted. "What? What do you mean?"
"The darkness following you..." The old man's voice was breaking, failing. "It's evil. So much worse than you know. So much worse than anything I've seen in all my years of study."
His hand rose shakily, pointing past Aster's shoulder. "He's following you. He's right behind you. Always. Always watching. Always there."
Aster spun around, his hand going to his sword. But there was nothing behind him. Just the empty room, the fire casting its warm light, the other disciples staring in shock at their elder's behavior.
"I don't see anything," Aster said, turning back to the old man. "There's nothing there. You must be—"
But the old man's eyes were locked on something that Aster couldn't see. Something standing right behind him. His terror was absolute, undeniable, real.
"Not human," the old man whispered, his voice breaking completely now. "Not a monster. Something... something I've never seen before. Never even imagined. And it's smiling. Oh gods, it's *smiling*."
The other disciples were backing away now, their faces showing their own fear. They couldn't see what their elder was seeing, but they trusted his perception completely. If he said there was something there, something terrible, then it was there.
"What are you talking about?" Aster demanded, panic rising in his chest. "What's behind me? What do you see?"
The old man opened his mouth to answer. His eyes rolled back in his head. And he collapsed, falling forward out of the chair and hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Unconscious. Or possibly dead.
The other disciples rushed to him, checking for signs of life, calling his name. The room erupted into controlled chaos.
And Aster stood in the middle of it all, alone and terrified, knowing that something was behind him.
Something that had been following him all along.
Something that even a disciple of the Evil Sage—someone who had spent decades studying forbidden knowledge and encountering impossible truths—had never seen before.
Something that smiled.
Slowly, despite every instinct screaming at him not to, Aster turned around.
And saw...
Nothing.
Just the empty room. The fire. The shadows.
But he felt it now. That presence. The same overwhelming malevolence he'd felt at the Thornwood mansion. The same reality-distorting wrongness from the party.
It was there. Right behind him.
It had been there all along.
Watching. Waiting. Following.
And it was smiling.