Lucian Pov
I didn't know if I should listen to it... but the darkness was starting to feel like
home.
My feet carried me forward, though I wasn't sure if I was chasing something or
being drawn deeper into its grasp. The slums stretched out ahead of me, their
bleak outlines sharp against the dim light. The ghosts of my past lingered here,
haunting every cracked wall and broken window.
Once, this place had been my whole world—a world of clenched fists, cold nights,
and a hunger that never left. Now, it was nothing more than a hollow echo, the
last remnants of a boy who refused to stay down.
The shadows here were different. Thicker. Heavier. They clung to my skin like
damp cloth, pressing into my thoughts, my breath, my rage. I couldn't shake the
voice. Its echo rattled through me, relentless, driving me to this place where it
all began.
The air was colder with every step, and the stillness of the night seemed to
stretch unnaturally. Even the laughter of children playing in the dirt felt muted,
their hollow gazes tracking me as I passed. For a moment, I saw myself in them—
barefoot, broken, and burning with the kind of fire that should have died long ago.
And then I heard it again. A whisper, faint but unmistakable:
"Lucian..."
I stopped, my heart slamming against my ribs. The name hung in the air, deliberate
and suffocating.
"Who's there?" I demanded, spinning around. My voice was sharp, cutting through
the quiet, but the shadows only seemed to thicken in response.
"You've fought so hard. Lost so much." The voice was calm, commanding. Each word
felt like a weight pressing against my chest. "And yet, here you are. Powerless."
The accusation struck like a hammer, sending cracks through my carefully
constructed armour. My fists clenched as I scanned the darkness, my eyes
darting from corner to corner.
"I don't have time for games," I growled, taking a step forward.
"No," the voice replied, laced with something almost like pity. "But you had time
to lose. To watch everything, you loved burn."
The rage hit me like a flood, too strong to hold back. "SHOW YOURSELF!" I
roared, the sound echoing down the empty streets.
Laughter answered me, low and cruel, resonating from every direction. The
shadows rippled, twisting unnaturally, pooling together until they formed a shape.
A figure stepped out from the darkness—not a man, not entirely. His form was
cloaked in smoke, shifting and writhing, as though the shadows themselves were
alive. His presence filled the alley, his glowing eyes pinning me where I stood.
"You're angry," he said, his voice smooth and unshaken. He stepped closer, each
movement deliberate. "Good. Hold onto that."
"Who the hell are you?" I snapped, taking a step back despite myself.
He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "I am the answer to your pain. The
weapon you need."
"I don't need anything from you," I shot back, though my voice wavered.
He smirked, the curve of his lips both infuriating and unnervingly confident. "Don't
you? You let them take her. You let them destroy your world. And now, here you
stand, clinging to your pride as if it can bring her back."
My breath caught, my chest tightening as the memories surged forward—her
smile, her laugh, the life we had stolen from us.
"I can help you, Lucian," he said, softer now, almost gentle. "I can give you the
power to make them pay. To take back what was stolen. All you have to do... is let
me in."
The air grew heavier, the shadows creeping closer, curling around me like a
predator closing in on its prey. His words dug deep, wrapping around the ache in
my chest, the fury in my veins.
I stared at him, my fists trembling. "And what's the price?"
His smirk widened. "Nothing you wouldn't already give."
The shadows pressed closer, swallowing the light. For the first time, I wasn't sure
if I was fighting against the darkness... or surrendering to it.
"What's the cost?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My voice
felt foreign, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything I
feared.
The figure chuckled—a sound deep and resonant, like thunder rolling in the
distance. "Clever boy. You understand that nothing in this world is free."
I took a step back, the chill in the air gnawing at my skin. My chest heaved, the
erratic pounding of my heart a deafening drumbeat in the stillness. "I'm not
interested in your riddles. Say what you want and leave me alone."
"But you are interested, aren't you?" he pressed, his form shifting closer. The
tendrils of smoke surrounding him pulsed and coiled, as though feeding off the
anger roiling inside me. "You wouldn't have followed my voice if you weren't. You
crave justice—or is it revenge? Tell me, Lucian, does it even matter anymore?"
My hands curled into fists, the sharp bite of my nails digging into my palms. The
sting grounded me, but only barely. "What do you want from me?"
"It's not about what I want," he said, his tone softening, almost coaxing. "It's
about what you need. The power to tear apart the lies that bind this world. To
expose the rot beneath their gilded thrones. I can give you that, Lucian."
I opened my mouth to retort, but no words came. He wasn't wrong—his words cut
too close, peeling back layers of anger, grief, and desperation I had tried so hard
to bury.
"But," he continued, his voice sharpening like a blade slicing through the thick
silence, "this power comes with a price. Once you accept it, there's no turning
back. The world will turn against you. The gods will curse your name. And the very
thing that drives you now... will consume you."
His words hung in the air; a warning wrapped in dark allure.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, though the question came out weak, lacking any true
defiance.
The figure tilted his head, his glowing eyes boring into mine, unyielding. "Then you
go back to being what you are now. Powerless. Alone. Forever watching as they
thrive on the ashes of the life they took from you."
The silence that followed was deafening. My mind swirled in chaos, a tempest of
raw emotions. Anger. Grief. The insidious whispers of doubt gnawed at the edges
of my resolve, but the memories burned hotter—the crash, the blood, Lilith's
smile, now lost forever.
"Decide, Lucian," he urged, his voice taking on an edge of impatience. "The
darkness will not wait for you to catch up."
I stared down at my trembling hands, empty yet aching with the weight of what
I had lost. The echoes of her laughter, the light she brought to a world so cruel,
flared in my mind.
And then came the truck, the sound of metal twisting, the silence that followed...
The storm inside me quieted, my rage finding purpose in the void left behind.
I took a deep breath, the shadows closing in like an embrace I no longer had the
strength to resist. My voice was steady, the words falling from my lips with
finality.
"I accept."
The words had barely left my mouth when I felt it—a searing heat blooming
across my chest, just above my heart. It was unlike anything I had ever
experienced, a pain so intense it brought me to my knees.
I gasped, clawing at my shirt as the sensation burned its way deep into my skin.
My vision blurred, and for a moment, I swore I saw shadows writhing around me,
alive and crawling, though there was nothing I could touch or fight.
"Good," the shadow's voice purred, laced with satisfaction. "Now... bear my mark."
The heat surged, spreading like fire beneath my skin. It wasn't just pain—it was
something deeper, something clawing its way into my very being. My breath
hitched, and I collapsed forward, catching myself with trembling hands against
the cold, hard ground.
Through the haze of agony, I caught glimpses—faint reflections in the shattered
glass beside me.
Something was forming.
It started as faint lines, dark and jagged, creeping outward in twisting, chaotic
patterns. They pulsed faintly, glowing as though lit from within, like veins of
molten fire being etched into my chest. I didn't understand what it was, but I
couldn't look away, even as the pain dragged me under.
"What... what is this?" I managed to choke out, though I wasn't sure who I was
asking—the shadow, the darkness, or myself.
The shadow's laughter echoed, low and triumphant. "A gift, Lucian. A piece of me.
And soon, you will understand its true power."
The glowing lines coiled tighter, merging into something more defined. The
chaotic edges gave way to a design—dark, intricate, almost alive. It shifted subtly,
the patterns writhing like smoke trapped beneath my skin.
The heat flared one last time, a white-hot crescendo that tore through me, and
I collapsed forward as the pain consumed me. My body hit the ground, limp and
trembling, as the world spun around me.
The last thing I saw was the faint glow of the markings reflected in the broken
mirror, their light flickering like a dying flame.
The last thing I heard was the shadow's parting words, soft and chilling:
"Rest now, my chosen. This is only the beginning."
And then, there was nothing.