When Erevan woke, something felt… off.
For a heartbeat, he thought he had gone blind. The ceiling above him wasn't the familiar cracked stone he knew—it was a sheet of darkness, deeper than night, thick and swallowing. It didn't just cover the room; it pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. His lungs worked frantically, but the air felt wrong, like he was trying to breathe through smoke.
Edges of the room slowly came into focus—stone walls, the faint orange ember of his candle stub—but the darkness didn't recede. It clung to corners and shadows, pooling like ink, shifting when he blinked. His chest throbbed under his ribs, a deep, pulsing ache that made his fingers tremble when he touched it. No blood, just heat, a reminder that something inside him had changed.
He tried to speak, but his voice rasped, caught in his dry throat. And then it came.
Not a sound, not a whisper. It wasn't even a thought. It vibrated through him, threading down his spine, rippling through every nerve in his body.
Awake at last.
Erevan jerked back, shoulder hitting the wall. His breath tore from him in a ragged gasp, heart hammering. The shadows in the far corner thickened, deepened—and from them, two faint embers flared. Eyes.
Watching.
"Wh… who's there?" His voice cracked, broken.
The eyes blinked once, deliberate.
You need not speak.
The voice didn't come from anywhere. It came from everywhere. From inside him. From the air itself. Cold, heavy, amused.
"I… what are you?" he whispered, voice trembling.
A low chuckle rolled through the room, reverberating off walls like stone grinding against stone. Not a human laugh. Something ancient, layered, patient.
Names are bindings, little anomaly.
The air shivered with the words. I have given mine to no mortal in centuries. But if it eases your fragile mind… you may call me Harrax.
The name lingered, a stain in the air. The candle flickered violently as if recoiling from it. Erevan's skin crawled.
"I didn't mean to—"
Oh, but you did.
Shadows rippled, stretching across the floor like liquid smoke. You drew the circle. You called. You begged for a contract. And I—out of curiosity more than mercy—answered.
"No! I… I was just trying again! It wasn't supposed to—" His words tumbled out too fast, desperate, panicked.
Fail, yes. As it always did. The voice sharpened, slicing through his denial. Yet here you stand. Bound. Not to some flame-licked wisp or trickling water-wraith, but to me. The System itself trembled when I came. Did you not see it falter?
Erevan's stomach turned. He had… seen it. Flickering runes, error messages burning behind his eyes: [Status: ANOMALY].
He forced himself upright, trembling, and fumbled for the drawer beneath his desk. Inside, wrapped in scraps of parchment, lay a cracked shard of mirror—the only one he owned. He whispered the word, voice dry and hoarse.
"Status."
A translucent pane of light shimmered into existence, pale against the darkness.
[Name: Erevan Kael][Rank: … ][Affinity: … ][Spirit Bond: Harrax ? ? ?][Classification: ANOMALY]
The text flickered, symbols bleeding into each other before snapping back into place.
Erevan's stomach twisted. He dropped the shard, letting it clatter to the stone floor.
"This can't be real…" he whispered, almost to himself. "This can't—"
Harrax's laughter filled the room, low, resonant, like a weight pressing down.
Real enough, child. Deny me, and I will remind you of the pain when our bond took root.
Erevan's body recoiled at the memory—fire ripping through his ribs, screaming tearing raw through his throat. Pain that hadn't entirely left him.
Good. You understand.
He forced himself to his feet, gripping the desk to steady the world tilting beneath him. "If… if anyone finds out about this, they'll expel me," he whispered. "Or worse."
The ember-eyes narrowed, gleaming faint amusement.
Then hide it. Mortals are good at hiding things they fear. Smile when they mock you. Bow when they pity you. Pretend to be weak, as you always have. You are already practiced in that art.
Erevan's jaw tightened. His throat burned as the shadows coiled at the edges of the room.
Harrax chuckled again, softer now, like embers stirred in dying fire.
Do not mistake me, little anomaly. I am patient—for now. We will see what you make of this gift you clawed so desperately to earn.
The candle shrank to a trembling bead of light before going out entirely. Darkness swallowed the room.
Erevan stood frozen long after Harrax's last echo faded. He had wanted a spirit bond more than anything.
And now, he wasn't sure he would survive it.
Morning came too quickly. Erevan moved through the Academy halls like a ghost, each step deliberate, slow, careful. The polished stone smelled faintly of ink and mana, the air vibrant with the energy of countless spirit bonds. Usually, it would have thrilled him, filled him with that familiar, pulsing excitement. Today, it pressed against him like a weight. Every cheer, every spark of flame or shimmer of water reminded him that he carried something secret, something enormous, inside him.
Harrax was there, always there, a cold whisper sliding along the back of his mind.
Pathetic display.
Erevan clenched his jaw. The boy beside him could barely summon a flame, yet he radiated confidence, drawing attention and admiration effortlessly. Imagine what I could do with your mana, if you weren't so afraid to draw on me, the voice teased.
Shut up, he muttered under his breath, gripping his bag strap until the leather bit into his hand.
Classrooms were a blur of motion. Students formed perfect circles, summoned spirits with ease. Flames flickered, water sprites danced, air elements twirled. Laughter, encouragement, applause—everything was louder, brighter, mocking in its perfection. Erevan kept his head down, forced his hands to rest idle on his desk. Every instinct screamed to act, to draw, to show Harrax's power.
Release me.
The whisper slithered inside him, seductive, cold, promising. One taste, one flicker, and I will show them what a true bond is. Their familiars will kneel—or break.
No, he muttered, voice cracking. Not now.
Already resisting? Very promising, little anomaly. Harrax purred in his mind, amused and predatory. Bold. Stubborn.
Cassian Valt's feline spirit leapt across the floor during practice, claws extended, precision flawless. Cheers rose, bright and mocking. Cassian glanced at Erevan, smirking, gold eyes gleaming.
You despise him. I can feel it.
Harrax whispered, voice dripping in anticipation. Let me take him apart. One scream to remind him even gold can bleed.
Erevan's fists clenched at his sides. He forced himself to unclench, to appear calm. No. He would not give Harrax the satisfaction. Not yet.
Ah, restraint. The amusement in Harrax's voice pulsed, sharp and cold. Mortals worship it, though it strangles you. Very well. I will wait… for now.
By midday, Erevan felt hollowed out, like the world had drained him of every fragment of strength. Every glance, every sound, every flicker of mana reminded him: Harrax existed. Sentient, dangerous, patient. The bond was no longer theoretical—it was a predator circling in invisible chains.
Class after class blurred into rote participation. Lectures spoke of resonance, the beauty of harmonious bonds, of mortal and spirit in unity. Words that should have inspired him cut hollow, hollow as the shadows Harrax left in their wake.
Imagine what you could do, Harrax whispered again, sharp and amused. The fire-flame beside you is strong, yet shallow. I could make it kneel. I could make it burn. But you hesitate. You are afraid.
Erevan's hands itched, trembled with the need to draw, to press out the energy to unleash Harrax in secret. But exposure would mean ruin—expulsion, disgrace, perhaps worse. He swallowed, gritting his teeth against the pull inside him.
When the final class ended, spirits dissipated with sighs, twinkles, and soft roars. Students packed their scrolls and parchment, laughter spilling into the hallways. Erevan stumbled back toward his dorm, each step heavy with exhaustion, a frayed string pulled taut inside him.
Inside his room, he let the door close behind him, pressing his forehead against the wood. Knees threatening to buckle, he braced himself.
Harrax unfolded from the darkness around him, taller now, sharper, the ember eyes glowing with anticipation. Shadows stretched along the walls, alive and restless.
A long day, little anomaly.
The whisper slid into him, amused, intimate, cold. You held your tongue. You endured. Admirable, in its way.
Erevan's throat burned. "What… what do you want from me?"
Everything. The ember eyes glimmered, sharp. But for now… something small. A test.
The shadows coiled closer, like smoke wrapping around his limbs, pressing in with quiet demand.
Prove to me that this bond is not wasted. One act. One offering. Tonight.
Erevan's chest tightened. His pulse thundered in his ears. "Wh-what kind of act?"
The embers flared brighter, molten and alive.
I will show you.
The candle snapped out. Darkness claimed the room, thick and suffocating. Every muscle in his body tensed. Harrax's patience was a predator in the dark.
Erevan Kael was very much its prey.