The chamber was thick with silence after Vorath's name echoed in my mind. I stood frozen, staring at the colossal beast of horn and shadow. His body barely moved, but his presence filled every crevice of the underground chamber, like smoke creeping beneath the skin.
A minute passed. Then another.
I broke the silence.
"Vorath," I said slowly, tasting the name like bitter wine. "What are you?"
"A memory," the beast rumbled. "A remnant of war and wonder. I once walked above—free and feared. Now I rot in this crypt, buried by time and cowards."
"And yet," I muttered, "you're very much awake."
His chuckle cracked through the chamber like old wood splitting.
"I stirred the moment your blood sang."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
Vorath's eyes narrowed. "You are not like the others. Even as a child, you reek of potential. Your essence carries an old echo… something born from failure and purpose. Your very soul is—wrong."
"…Thanks," I said dryly.
The beast stepped forward—silent, despite his size. "Your sarcasm masks your fear. That is wise. You should be afraid, Lysander Caspian."
"You know my name?"
"I know many things. Names. Bloodlines. Promises broken. Souls shaped from error."
My breath hitched. "You said my blood sang. What do you want from me?"
"I offer you a pact," Vorath said, his voice slow and deliberate. "A contract forged in consent and necessity."
I hesitated. "A pact? What kind?"
"One that benefits us both. You are gifted, but raw. I will teach you to shape that gift—how to control the tide of blood, the whispers of flesh, the hunger in your bones."
My chest tightened. "…You know what I am?"
"Not yet. But I can help you understand what slumbers inside you. I will show you truths even the gods fear to speak."
I stepped back, heart pounding. "And what do you get?"
Vorath lowered his head, golden eyes locking with mine. "A home. Your soul. I will reside within you—not to control, but to survive. I am dying, Lysander. This chamber is my grave. But you… you are a vessel with purpose."
"You want to live inside me."
"A crude way to put it. But yes."
I stared at him, pulse pounding. "…Will I still be me?"
"Yes. I will not take your mind. I do not seek dominion, only shelter. In time, we may even speak as equals."
"Why not someone else?" I asked. "Why me?"
Vorath blinked slowly. "Because your soul is fractured. Imperfect. It can hold me where others would shatter."
"…How reassuring."
He laughed, low and knowing. "Clever tongue. That will serve you well."
I crossed my arms. "What's the catch?"
"There is none. Not yet. But understand this—I am not a toy, and I do not make such offers lightly. You are free to refuse."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I die here, and you walk away ignorant. You will awaken your powers one day… but unguided, untrained. You will be consumed by them. Or worse—used."
That struck something. I thought of the estate. Of the whispers about lineage. Of my father's cold eyes and my brother's perfect smile. I didn't know what I was, but I knew this world wasn't gentle with anomalies.
"I don't like trusting things that hide in crypts," I muttered.
Vorath tilted his head. "Nor should you. But think, Lysander—what waits for you out there? A noble name, yes, but no future. A body brimming with potential, but no path. I offer you guidance… and power."
A long silence passed. My fingers clenched and unclenched.
"…What kind of power?"
"The kind that bends blood and shadow. The kind that lets you survive when others fall. I will teach you to see without eyes, to command the essence that flows through all flesh. You will be feared. Revered."
"And this power," I said slowly. "You're sealing it?"
"Yes. You are too young to control it. But when your body matures—when you bleed with purpose—then, you will awaken."
I took a deep breath. "So I'll live a normal childhood… with a monster in my soul?"
Vorath's voice softened. "Not a monster. A teacher. A warden of your strength."
My eyes searched his face. He didn't lie. At least… not yet.
"…Fine," I said. "I accept."
The chamber pulsed. Red veins in the stone flared with life. Vorath raised his head, and I felt a pressure build in the air, thick and electric.
"Speak it," he said. "Say the words."
I cleared my throat. "I, Lysander Caspian, accept the pact. You may… reside in my soul."
A wind that didn't exist howled through the chamber. The runes on the walls ignited with crimson fire.
Vorath grinned.
"Then let our bond be forged."
He lunged—not at me, but into me.
His form burst into smoke and ash, tendrils of shadow snaking into my chest, my mouth, my eyes. Pain exploded through my spine like fire crawling up a tree. My knees buckled.
The last thing I heard was his voice inside my skull.
"Let me in."
And then—
Everything turned black.
---
[To be continued...]