The first light of dawn barely penetrated the walls of the training chamber. Shadows clung stubbornly to every corner, curling and writhing like living things, as if the night itself refused to relinquish its hold. Aerich sat cross-legged on the stone floor, hands pressed against the spiral on his chest, feeling the hum of energy thrumming beneath his skin.
The whisper had returned—subtle, cold, a coiling tendril of thought curling around the edges of his mind.
They all lie. They all hide. And you believe in them?
Aerich's fingers tightened. He hadn't moved all night, had barely slept, yet the hunger was sharper than ever, a constant tugging, reminding him that nothing about him would ever be normal. Not his body, not his mind, not his place in this world.
"You're awake," Sereth's voice said softly.
He looked up to see her leaning against the far wall, expression calm, but her eyes… watching. Evaluating.
"You trained well yesterday," she said, voice even. "But today is different."
"Different how?" Aerich asked, wary. The last time something was "different," he nearly lost control of the house—and maybe himself.
"Today," Sereth said, stepping closer, "we test your loyalty."
Aerich frowned. "Loyalty?"
She gestured toward the shadows along the walls. "Trust. They are not always who they appear to be. Sometimes, the people closest to you are the ones most dangerous."
The words hung in the cold air.
Aerich's mother appeared at the doorway, watching silently. Her presence usually grounded him, but today… it felt distant. Fragile.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why put me through tests like this?"
Sereth's gaze didn't waver. "Because the moment you trust blindly is the moment you die. Or worse."
The shadows stirred suddenly. Shapes emerged—elongated forms that twisted unnaturally, limbs bending in impossible angles. Voices, soft and almost familiar, echoed through the room:
"Follow us.""Believe in us.""Let go."
Aerich's heart thumped. The spiral pulsed violently beneath his skin, feeding on the tension, responding to the hunger that had been whispering at him all night.
"Identify the real ones," Sereth commanded. "The ones who are truth. The ones who are deceit. You cannot afford mistakes."
Aerich's mind raced. Every instinct screamed that this was a trap. And yet… there were whispers in the shadows that sounded like his friends, like people he trusted. Voices he recognized from memories that felt real.
Follow us. We can help you. Trust us.
He flinched. The hunger surged, responding not just to fear but to the allure of power.
"You see it," Sereth said. "The mark reacts to trust and betrayal alike. You will make a choice. And every choice leaves a scar."
The shadows converged, forming humanoid shapes. One stepped forward—it had her mother's face. But it was wrong. Too perfect. Too still. Its eyes glinted with something cold, something hungry.
"Mother?" Aerich whispered.
The figure smiled—a smile that didn't belong to the woman he knew. "Yes, Aerich. Follow me. Trust me. Let me guide you."
Aerich staggered back. The spiral flared in warning, but the hunger… it tempted. To reach out, to obey, to feed on the power it promised.
Trust. Follow. Consume.
"No!" Aerich yelled, stepping back. "You're not real!"
The shadow wavered, flickering like a candle in the wind. "I am your anchor," it said. "Your safety. You need me."
The hunger surged violently in response, a tug of temptation so strong that Aerich felt his body moving without permission, leaning forward, wanting to obey.
"Control it!" Sereth shouted, stepping into the circle. Symbols flared beneath her feet. "Decide what is real!"
Aerich's chest burned. Sweat poured down his face as he fought against the temptation. The spiral pulsed, veins of darkness snaking outward, licking at the edges of his vision. He could feel the whisper inside him, murmuring:
You do not need them. You never needed them.
He took a deep breath, focusing on what he knew—what he trusted beyond doubt. Not the illusion. Not the shadows. His mother's real presence, Sereth's guidance, his own mark.
The shadow screeched, dissolving into mist. The other shapes faltered, some vanishing entirely, others wailing silently before collapsing.
Aerich fell to his knees, gasping, chest heaving. The hunger still whispered, but for the first time, he felt a fragment of control—of choice.
Sereth stepped closer. "Good," she said quietly. "You see now. Shadows exploit trust, and betrayal can come from within as easily as from without. You cannot afford naïveté."
He shook his head, mind reeling. "I—I can't believe this. They… they tried to trick me. I almost—"
"You almost failed," Sereth said. "And that is why this lesson was necessary."
His mother stepped forward, hand trembling slightly as she touched his shoulder. "I never meant to hide from you," she said softly. "But the world is cruel, Aerich. Even those who love you must protect you from truths you are not yet ready for."
Aerich clenched his fists. "So I have to keep guessing? Keep fighting shadows in my own home?"
"Yes," Sereth said calmly. "Until you learn to trust only what survives the test."
He swallowed hard. The spiral beneath his skin throbbed in agreement, responding to both his fear and his resolve. The hunger pulsed—a reminder that temptation, deceit, and betrayal were not just threats outside; they existed within him, waiting for a crack in his judgment.
The room was quiet again. The shadows were gone, leaving only the cold stone and flickering candlelight. But Aerich knew they were not truly gone—they would return. Every whisper, every temptation, every betrayal would haunt him. And the mark, patient and insatiable, would never forget.
Sereth's voice broke the silence. "Rest now. But remember—tomorrow, the trials continue. And the world outside is even less forgiving than this chamber."
Aerich's mother knelt beside him. "You are stronger than you know," she said. "And even if trust is broken, remember… I am here. Always."
He nodded, but the weight in his chest didn't lift. The spiral pulsed faintly, a constant reminder that the hunger waited, that the shadows would return, and that betrayal—whether from the world or from within—was inevitable.
Aerich closed his eyes, trying to still the storm inside him, but he knew it would never truly stop. Not until he had faced every shadow, every whisper, and every truth lurking in the dark corners of his own soul.
And for the first time, he understood the hardest lesson of all: trust is a weapon—and sometimes, the sharpest blade cuts from the inside.