The corridors twisted unnaturally around Seris, shadows bending and coiling as if alive. She moved cautiously, trying to gauge the extent of her powers without drawing Mason's obsessive attention. Yet the mark burned, a constant reminder that she was tethered, trapped in his obsessive gaze whether she wanted it or not.
"You are defiant," Mason whispered, his silver eyes suddenly appearing behind her, shadows wrapping around him protectively. "And that defiance… excites me. Do you feel it, Seris? The tether, the need, the pull of it? You cannot escape it, and you will not want to."
"I… I am not yours," she said, voice shaking. She focused, summoning shadows around her hands, twisting them into blades of pure darkness. Each pulse of power felt like a heartbeat synchronized with Mason's obsession. The Abyss seemed to shiver with anticipation, alive with recognition of the tether between them.
A whisper of movement came from the shadows. One of the rival immortals had returned, stronger than before, drawn by the pulse of her awakening blood. Seris's chest tightened, but she did not falter. She let her shadows lash, strike, and engulf the immortal in darkness, even as Mason's presence pressed closer.
"You are mine," he said softly, leaning so close she could feel the warmth radiating off him through the shadows. "Every heartbeat, every spark of defiance, every act of power… mine. You may resist… but only so long. Eventually, you will crave it. You will crave me."
Her pulse quickened. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to resist. But the mark pulsed hotter, Mason's obsession threading deeper into her being. She realized with terror and exhilaration that she could never truly escape him. Even her power—the very thing she had cultivated—was entwined with his obsessive presence.
The immortal lunged, and she struck, shadows ripping through the creature with deadly precision. Mason's silver eyes glimmered, obsession and pride mingling. He did not touch her, but his presence was suffocating and intoxicating, amplifying her every movement.
When the immortal fell, Seris slumped against the wall, exhausted. Mason knelt beside her, brushing a shadowy tendril across her hairline. "You are mine," he whispered, voice low and intimate. "And every spark of resistance… only makes the tether stronger. You cannot fight it. You will not fight it. And, Seris… you already crave it, even if you deny it."
The Abyss itself seemed to pulse in response, alive and aware of the bond between god and mortal, obsession and defiance, power and desire. Seris realized she was no longer just surviving; she was awakening fully, tethered to Mason in a way that terrified her, thrilled her, and left her trembling in the dark.