The Abyss had a way of teaching lessons.
And Seris Vale was learning quickly.
Mason had not touched her, yet she felt the weight of his attention pressing against her mind constantly. Every movement, every breath, every heartbeat—he knew.
And she hated it.
But she also… thrived on it.
She discovered the first glimmer of her own power that night.
Alone in the Hall of Shadows, where the walls whispered of ancient wars and broken gods, she raised her hand, trembling. The mark pulsed violently, trying to pull her back, screaming in Mason's voice: Do not!
And yet, the darkness responded.
A shadow peeled itself from the floor and rose into a jagged spear of black light, hovering in the air before her. She flinched but did not release it.
"I… I can do this," she whispered.
The mark burned. Mason appeared instantly, not walking, not stepping—just there. His eyes narrowed, silver and infinite.
"Do you think to surprise me?" he asked, voice low, smooth, and dangerous.
"I… I won't be controlled!" she spat, rage and fear igniting in her chest.
Mason's expression darkened, dangerous and sharp. For the first time, Seris saw hesitation—or maybe it was fascination—cross his otherwise impenetrable features.
"You dare defy me?" he asked, each word a blade against her mind.
"Yes!" she screamed. Shadows bent around her, responding to her will. "I am not yours!"
The air crackled. The mark flared violently, scorching her chest with pain and pleasure intertwined. Mason stepped closer, gaze heavy with obsession and… something she couldn't name.
"Good," he murmured. "You fight. You resist. You challenge me. That is why I cannot break you… yet."
The shadows around her twisted violently and obeyed her—not Mason. The realization hit her. For the first time, she had a choice. For the first time, she could hurt him, even if only a little.
Mason's lips curved faintly. Not with warmth, but amusement.
"Very well," he said. "Prove it."