The Council's words echoed in Elian's mind, their implications gnawing at his soul. The Devil's Mark. His fate had been sealed long before he had ever realized the weight of his choices. He had thought himself a player in this game, but now he understood. He had been nothing more than a pawn, a puppet bound to the strings of those who had watched from the shadows.
His fingers trembled as he clenched his fists, trying to hold onto the remnants of his resolve. But the more he thought about the Mark, the more he felt the darkness wrapping around him. He had never believed in the old tales—legends of curses, forbidden pacts, and souls bound to unholy bargains—but now, standing before the Council, he understood just how real they were.
Maren's grip tightened on his arm, and he could feel her anxiety radiating through her. He glanced at her, her pale face etched with concern, her brow furrowed in confusion. She had not heard the words of the Council. She hadn't heard them utter the truth of his past—the truth that now felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
"Elian," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What did they mean? What is this Mark? What are they talking about?"
His throat felt tight, the words lodged there, unwilling to escape. He didn't want to tell her. Not now, not when he couldn't even fully comprehend the reality of it himself. But she needed to know. She deserved the truth, even if it shattered her.
"The Devil's Mark," Elian began, his voice strained. "It's a curse. A deal that was made long before I was born. My father… he made a pact with the Council. To gain power, to secure the throne. And I... I was part of that deal."
Maren's eyes widened in shock, and her grip on him loosened slightly. "Your father—he made a deal with them? And you... you were bound to it?"
Elian nodded, the weight of his confession pressing down on him. "Yes. I didn't choose it. I didn't even know about it until recently. But now, they've come to collect. And there's no way out."
A voice from the far end of the room interrupted their conversation. "You speak of a way out, Elian, but there is none. The Mark has already claimed you. You are ours, whether you accept it or not."
The figure in the shadows stood, their presence even more oppressive now. Elian could feel the air shift as they moved, a chill that seemed to freeze the very marrow in his bones. The voice that came from them was cold, calculated, and unforgiving.
"You will serve the Council's purpose," the figure continued. "Your father's sins are now your burden to bear. You will do as we say, or the consequences will be severe."
Elian's heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He could feel the pressure building within him, the anger, the fear, the frustration. He had been a tool, a means to an end, his life nothing more than a bargaining chip in a game he had never asked to play. And now, the stakes were higher than ever.
"I won't be your puppet," Elian said, his voice shaking with defiance. "I'll find a way out. There's always a way."
A laugh echoed from the shadows, hollow and mocking. "You think you can escape? The Council has eyes everywhere. There is no running. You are trapped, Elian. As is your fate."
His breath hitched. The walls seemed to close in around him, the very room pressing down on him like a tomb. The weight of their words, their power, it was overwhelming.
And yet, in the pit of his stomach, a spark of rebellion flickered. The spark that had led him here, that had kept him fighting all this time. He refused to let them have him, refused to let them control him. If they thought they could break him, they were wrong.
Maren's voice cut through the suffocating silence, filled with an uncharacteristic steel. "Elian isn't alone. We'll find a way, together."
The Council's laughter died, replaced by an unsettling stillness. The figure in the shadows regarded them for a long moment, their gaze piercing. Then, slowly, they spoke again.
"You may think you have control, but you are merely delaying the inevitable. The Mark is not something you can outrun. It is a part of you now."
Elian's breath caught in his throat. They were right, in a way. The Mark was part of him—he could feel it, its presence like a heavy weight on his soul, an invisible chain that bound him to their will.
But even as they spoke, something inside him stirred. The defiance, the refusal to be broken, burned brighter than ever. He wasn't going to give up—not now, not when the stakes were so high. There had to be a way out. He would find it, no matter what it took.
"I don't care what you say," Elian replied, his voice steady and resolute. "I'll never serve you. Not willingly. I'll break this curse, even if it's the last thing I do."
The figure tilted their head, a dark chuckle reverberating through the chamber. "Such fire. It will be extinguished soon enough. Mark my words, Elian—the price of defiance is steep."
Suddenly, the air in the room grew even colder, the temperature dropping rapidly. Elian could see his breath fogging in front of him. He felt the presence of the Council all around him, their unseen eyes watching his every move. The weight of their power pressed down on him, and for a moment, it felt like the walls would crush him.
But Maren's hand on his arm anchored him, her touch grounding him in the midst of the chaos. He turned to her, finding strength in her unwavering gaze.
"We're not done yet," Elian whispered, his words a vow to himself and to her.
And as the Council's ominous silence stretched on, Elian knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to let them win. The Mark might have bound him, but it couldn't control him—not as long as he still had his will, his defiance, and Maren by his side.
The battle was only just beginning.
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