[Aethel]
"And what is it you want… for immortality?" Aelfric's voice was measured, steady—too steady. But the moment pressed against his bones, his skin, his being.
The Bringer of Death did not hesitate.
"Your soul." The words were not spoken as a demand. Not as a threat, yet Aelfric's fingers twitched, but he did not move.
"Clarify."
The dragon's lips curled. Its eyes remained unblinking, and then it spoke again, in that chorus of many voices, all and none.
"Not much will change. You will remain as you are—whole, untouched, unchanged. And yet you will not be your own. You will be bound to me, eternally—a servant for eternity"
Aelfric's breath did not hitch, did not waver, yet inside, deep within, something trembled. He had expected something worse, he had expected oblivion. But this—this was something else. Not a stripping away of self—but a chain.
