The girl's breathing was ragged, shallow, as if the weight of the world had pressed itself against her chest. Dust clung to her hair, streaked with blood from the skirmish, and yet her eyes—those dark, unbroken eyes—did not waver when they met his.
"You saved us," she whispered, voice trembling but steadying itself like a candle refusing to be snuffed out. "You saved me."
The prince stood still, his own chest heaving, blood running down his arms. His claws were half-formed still, tips stained with gore. The stench of essence devoured lingered in the air, sickly sweet and metallic, and he felt his stomach twist. It had been exhilarating, yes—terrifying too—but above all it left him hollow, as though every kill carved another piece out of his soul.
He turned from her. He didn't want those eyes on him. Not when his hands had just torn life from another. Not when the Codex's whispers still licked the inside of his skull.
"Do not mistake chance for mercy," he said, forcing his voice to be cold. "I saved no one. I fought because they stood in my way."
The girl rose unsteadily, clutching a knife that was little more than a splintered piece of iron. She bowed her head, strands of hair falling to veil her face. "Even so, I owe you. My name is Lira. Daughter of House Valenor…" She hesitated, bitterness twisting her lips. "—what's left of it, at least."
The prince's eyes flicked toward her, a shadow of recognition stirring. Valenor. Once a noble house, minor but proud, crushed under the boots of his elder brothers' power plays.
He almost laughed. Of course. Another remnant of the empire's endless cruelties.
The Codex stirred, its voice sliding across his thoughts like silk.
"A girl who clings to you. A daughter of ruin. Broken, loyal. Do you not see the utility? She is weak, yes… but her devotion could be bound, shaped, fed upon."
He gritted his teeth. "I don't need followers," he muttered under his breath.
But Lira stepped closer, defiance cutting through her weariness. "You do. And I will follow you. I saw how you fought, how you endured. The empire cast me aside. You are the same. Let me walk with you."
His hand twitched toward her, an instinct he couldn't name. He remembered his siblings' sneers, their retainers lined up in glittering ranks, sworn blades and smiling flatterers. He had stood alone, always alone.
And now this girl—this scrap of a fallen house—dared to offer him loyalty?
He wanted to refuse. To push her away before the weight of her presence could sink into his soul. He opened his mouth—
And then the Codex pulsed.
A strange vibration, low and resonant, thrummed in his veins. He staggered, pressing a hand against his temple. Whispers flooded him, not words this time, but symbols—arcane, glowing, etched into the void of his mind.
The Codex spoke:
"Recognition detected. Submission acknowledged. A bond may form."
The prince froze. Bond? He had never heard the Codex speak in such a way before. His heart raced. He stared at Lira, whose wide eyes reflected only concern, not fear.
She reached out, hesitant, her hand trembling as it neared his sleeve. "Are you… all right?"
He stepped back, sharply. "Don't touch me."
Her hand fell, but she didn't retreat. Instead, she lowered herself to one knee, pressing the broken knife into the dirt. Her voice carried, small but unyielding:
"My family is gone. My name is dust. If you are forsaken, then let me be forsaken beside you. If you are cursed, then let me share the curse. You may not want me—but I will follow."
The silence that followed was unbearable. The prince's throat tightened, though he masked it with a scoff. He wanted to call her a fool. To tell her she was choosing death by his side.
But the Codex's whisper slithered in again, dark and insistent:
"Do you not feel it? Her oath feeds you. Not essence of blood, but essence of loyalty. A new path. The weak may be devoured… but the willing may be bound."
His fingers curled into fists. His chest burned. The emptiness inside him shifted, filled with something sharp and unfamiliar. He hated it—hated that her presence stirred him more than the power of the devoured ever had.
"Follow if you must," he said finally, voice low, cold. "But know this, Lira of ashes: betray me, and I will not hesitate to devour you as I have the rest."
She lifted her head, lips curved into the faintest, weary smile. "Then I will simply never betray you."
The Codex pulsed again, sealing something unseen. The prince shivered, though whether from dread or relief, he could not tell.
That night, as they walked through the barren wastes, the air heavy with silence, it was not the Codex that haunted him most.
It was the memory of her kneeling, and the echo of her words:
If you are cursed, then let me share the curse.
And when the cave appeared on the horizon, reeking of death, he wondered if her oath would survive the shadows waiting within.
The cave yawned before them, its mouth jagged like the teeth of some ancient beast. A fetid wind drifted out, thick with the reek of decay and damp stone. Even the air seemed heavier here, pressing down against the lungs.
The prince paused at the threshold, shadows lapping at his boots. His eyes adjusted quickly, pupils narrowing, wolf-gifted senses sharpening. He could hear it—the faint scuttle of vermin on bones, the dripping of unseen water, the low moan of something larger deeper inside.
Beside him, Lira covered her mouth with her sleeve, her steps faltering. Yet she did not stop. Not even when the stench burned her throat.
"You needn't follow me here," the prince said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This place is no refuge. It reeks of death."
Lira lowered her arm slowly, her eyes flicking toward him with something between defiance and quiet faith. "Where else would I go? Back to the empire? Back to the raiders?" She shook her head, strands of dust-streaked hair catching the dim moonlight at the cave's edge. "I'd rather walk into death with you than crawl back into chains."
He turned away quickly, unwilling to let her see the flicker of recognition in his gaze. Chains. Yes, he knew them well—the invisible shackles of mockery and humiliation that had bound him since birth. Perhaps hers were heavier, forged of loss and ruin. Perhaps that was why she clung to him.
The Codex hummed, resonating in the marrow of his bones.
"She binds herself tighter with every word. Weak, but useful. Her loyalty is nourishment. Her presence steadies your flame. You could shape her, vessel. Mold her into blade or shield."
He snarled inwardly. "I am no master of servants."
"Not yet," the Codex crooned. "But even the mightiest devourer began with scraps."
They stepped into the cave. Darkness swallowed them whole, broken only by the faint glow of the prince's eyes. The walls closed in quickly, damp stone scraping shoulders. The floor crunched beneath their feet—not gravel, but bones. Cracked ribs, hollow skulls, shattered femurs scattered like offerings to some forgotten god.
Lira stumbled, catching herself against the wall. Her voice was a whisper. "What… what killed them all?"
The prince crouched, picking up a fragment of bone. Black scorch marks marred the surface, as if it had been burned from the inside out. His jaw tightened.
The Codex whispered, more solemn now:
"This is no den of beasts. This is a graveyard of warriors. Their essence devoured by something… greater."
He dropped the bone, rising swiftly. His claws flexed, half-formed, his body taut with readiness. The air was different now. Thicker. Heavier. Watching.
They pressed deeper, the tunnel winding down until it widened into a cavern. Moonlight seeped through cracks in the ceiling, faint shafts of silver falling across a grim tableau.
Corpses. Dozens of them, strewn in twisted heaps. Some were armored, their insignias long faded. Others were beasts, fanged and clawed, piled atop one another in grotesque layers. The stench was overwhelming.
At the center of the cavern lay a figure.
Not beast, not fully man. His body was gaunt, half-consumed by shadows, skin stretched thin across bone. His armor was shattered, chestplate dented, helm lying cracked beside him. Yet even in ruin, there was dignity in the way he sat—back against the stone, sword still across his lap, hands resting on the hilt as if in eternal vigil.
Lira gasped softly, clutching her chest. "He's… he's still breathing."
The prince narrowed his eyes. Yes. Faintly, barely perceptible, but there—the shallow rise and fall of a chest that should long have stilled.
The Codex pulsed.
"Essence detected. Old, withered… yet heavy. A soul tempered by battle, not yet extinguished."
The prince's claws twitched. His instincts screamed—devour it, take what remains before it fades. Power was slipping through fingers like sand.
But he hesitated. This was no outlaw, no raider. This was a man who had once stood tall, who even in decay held to his blade.
The man stirred, head lolling weakly. His voice was broken stone, low and cracked, yet clear enough to cut through the silence.
"…Prince…?"
The word froze him in place. His throat clenched, his heart stuttered. How—how could this dying ruin know him?
Lira turned toward him, startled. Her eyes widened. "He knows you?"
The man coughed, blood bubbling from his lips. "…I served… your mother. General Kael… once sworn to her banner. I… I knew you, child. Even when the court spat on you."
The prince's chest tightened as if the cave itself had collapsed inward. Memories flickered—his mother's distant gaze, her hand brushing his hair once, only once, before she too had been swallowed by the empire's cruelty.
The general's dimming eyes found him again. "I held… until I could hold no more. But I waited… for you. She left… something. A legacy… only you may claim."
The Codex thrummed violently, symbols flaring in the prince's mind. Coordinates. Directions. Secrets unfolding like a map of fire.
Lira knelt beside the dying man, tears shining on her dirt-streaked cheeks. "Stay with us! You don't have to—"
But the general only smiled faintly, teeth red with blood. He pressed a jade token into the prince's palm, fingers curling weakly around his own.
"Survive… boy. Survive. And… return."
Then the light left him. His body shivered once, twice—then crumbled, turning to ash that scattered on an unseen wind.
The cavern fell silent.
The prince stared down at the jade token in his palm. Its surface was smooth, faintly pulsing with a light that matched the Codex's glow. His hand shook.
Lira's voice was quiet, reverent. "A dying man gave you his last breath. That… that means something."
The Codex, however, whispered differently:
"Another key. Another path. You are chosen, vessel. Not by love. Not by fate. But by hunger. Take it. Walk the path of ruin, and carve your empire from the bones of all who cast you aside."
The prince closed his fist around the token. For the first time, he felt the weight of something greater pressing upon his shoulders—not just survival, not just vengeance. A legacy.
And behind him, Lira whispered the words he could not bring himself to say.
"We'll see it through. Together."