The Abyss seemed to watch her every move. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls, writhing like snakes in anticipation, and the pulsing heat of the mark on Seris's chest reminded her that she was tethered to Mason in ways she could neither deny nor escape. She could feel him—every inch of his silver-eyed presence pressing into her mind, threading obsession into her thoughts, every heartbeat synchronized to his need for her.
She tried to focus, to harness her rising power. Her goddess blood throbbed with raw, untamed energy, coiling through her veins like molten fire. Each movement, each flicker of shadow that obeyed her will, made her heart race. The mark flared violently, Mason's obsession pressing closer, and a shiver ran down her spine she could not explain.
"You feel it, don't you?" Mason's voice whispered, silk and steel, threading into her thoughts like a tether. "The pull, the hunger… every spark of defiance only strengthens the bond. You cannot escape me, Seris. And you will not."
"I am not yours," she hissed, twisting away slightly, though heat lanced through her chest, sending a shiver of fear and unwanted desire through her. "I am my own."
"You are mine," he countered, stepping closer. Shadows coiled around him like living serpents, pressing closer to her, protective, obsessive. "Every heartbeat, every thought, every spark of power… mine. And the Abyss knows it."
A sudden roar split the corridors. From the shadows emerged a group of corrupted immortals, their eyes molten with rage, drawn by the pulse of her awakening powers. Seris instinctively extended her hands, summoning tendrils of shadow that lashed like whip strikes. Mason's presence flared, amplifying her power, threading obsession and guidance into every movement, but not taking her control. She was strong—strong enough to fight—but tethered in ways that made her pulse catch with fear and something she dared not name.
The clash was violent. Shadows collided, a symphony of destruction, the Abyss reacting violently to every beat of their battle. Seris unleashed a torrent of her goddess-blood energy, shards of darkness ripping through the corrupted immortals. The mark pulsed hotter, Mason's obsession threading into her every strike, every slash.
When the last immortal fell, she sank to her knees, trembling, chest heaving. Mason knelt beside her, silver eyes softening, yet sharp with possessive hunger. "You are mine," he whispered, brushing a shadowed tendril along her hairline. "Every spark of defiance, every act of power… all of it is mine. And one day… you will want it. You will crave it."
Seris pressed her hands against the mark, trembling. She hated him. She feared him. And yet… in some terrifying way, she wanted him—the tether, the obsession, the consuming heat of his attention. The Abyss shivered around them, alive and responsive, recognizing the bond that had been forged in fire, darkness, and desire.
She realized, fully, that she was awakening—not just to her own powers, but to the inescapable truth of Mason's obsessive claim.