Neri's POV

I should have known it wouldn't be simple. Nothing ever is when destiny gets involved.

My return to the Imperial Capital with Elio caused immediate tension. His team—especially the Knight-Captain—watched me with undisguised suspicion. The initial testing of my abilities raised even more concerns.

"Unorthodox," the Imperial Archmage declared after witnessing my shadow manipulation. "Potentially problematic. Where exactly did you study, young man?"

I gave the answer Elio and I had agreed upon. "Self-taught, mostly. Through books and practice."

No one believed me, but Elio's influence secured me a position—not on his elite team as he'd hoped, but as a support mage assigned to his division. Close enough to see him occasionally, far enough to be kept under observation.

For the first few months, it was enough. Glimpses of Elio in the training yards, brief conversations when our paths crossed, notes passed between us like we were still children sharing secrets. But I saw the changes in him more clearly now—the weight he carried, the forced smiles, the way his eyes constantly moved as if searching for threats.

"You don't sleep enough," I told him during one of our rare moments alone.

He shrugged. "Heroes don't have that luxury."

"You're still human, Elio."

He looked at me then, really looked, and for a moment I saw my old friend. "Sometimes I wonder. The Mark... it changes me, Neri. I can feel it rewiring something inside me, making me braver, stronger, more decisive."

"More reckless," I added, remembering the reports of his latest mission—how he'd charged ahead of his team into a demon enclave.

"Calculated risks," he corrected. "The Mark protects me."

"And if it doesn't?"

His smile turned brittle. "Then I die a hero's death, I suppose."

The casual way he said it chilled me. This wasn't my Elio, who used to weep over fallen birds. This was someone being shaped into a weapon, and either he didn't notice or he had accepted it.

Meanwhile, I was proving my worth in my own way. My shadow magic and strategic mind made me valuable in intelligence operations. I could slip my consciousness into shadows, watching enemy movements undetected. I could create detailed battlefield models that predicted demon behavior with uncanny accuracy.

"Your friend is quite the asset," I overheard Mage Kestra telling Elio one day. "Unusual methods, but effective."

Elio had beamed with pride. "I told you he was special."

But the more missions I completed, the more I began to see uncomfortable truths about the Empire's war. The demons weren't mindless monsters as Imperial propaganda suggested. They were organized, intelligent—and sometimes, they protected rather than attacked. I witnessed demon soldiers evacuating their young, tending their wounded, mourning their dead.

I kept these observations to myself, knowing they would sound like heresy. But they gnawed at me, especially as Imperial tactics grew more aggressive under pressure from the Celestial Envoys who now permanently resided in the palace.

Everything came to a head during the planning for the Blackridge Campaign. Demonic forces had seized a strategic mountain pass, and the Empire planned to reclaim it. I was assigned to the advance scouting team, led by Elio himself.

As we studied the tactical maps, something felt wrong.

"The demon formations are too exposed," I said, pointing to their positions. "It doesn't make sense."

"They're overconfident," said Knight-Captain Lyra dismissively.

"Or it's a trap," I insisted. "Look at the terrain—these caverns could hide hundreds of reinforcements."

Elio studied the map, his marked hand glowing faintly as it always did when he was thinking deeply. "Neri might be right. Perhaps we should send more scouts before committing."

"The Celestial Envoy has emphasized the urgency of this campaign," Saint Therion reminded him. "Delays could cost us the advantage."

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I could see Elio's internal struggle—trust his childhood friend or his divine mission?

"We proceed as planned," he finally said, not meeting my eyes. "But with additional precautions."

I tried one more time. "Elio—"

"That's 'Hero Elio' in strategic meetings, Support Mage Neri," Knight-Captain Lyra corrected sharply.

Something cold settled in my chest as Elio didn't contradict her.

The mission was a disaster from the start. As our forces entered the pass, demon reinforcements emerged exactly where I'd predicted. We were separated by a magical barrier that split our forces, leaving Elio and me cut off from the main group with a small contingent of soldiers.

The battle was chaotic, brutal. I used every shadow trick Master Vex had taught me, enveloping demons in darkness, confusing their senses, creating phantom soldiers to distract them. Elio blazed with celestial light, his sword cutting through demon ranks, his power growing with each enemy he fell.

But there were too many. Our soldiers dropped one by one until only Elio and I remained, backed against a cliff wall.

"Some Hero I turned out to be," Elio gasped, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead. "Leading my men into a trap."

"You should have listened to me," I couldn't help saying.

"I know." His eyes met mine, filled with regret. "I've stopped listening to the right voices, Neri."

Before I could respond, a massive demon—clearly their leader—charged toward us. Elio pushed me aside and met the assault. They fought brilliantly, power against power, but Elio was already wounded. The demon's claws found his chest, tearing through armor and flesh.

Elio collapsed.

Something broke inside me. I rushed to him, cradling his body. The Mark on his palm was flickering, fading.

"No, no, no," I chanted, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but weakening rapidly. "Stay with me, Elio. Please."

His eyes fluttered open. "Sorry... should have listened..."

The demon leader stood watching, making no move to finish us. Strange intelligence gleamed in its eyes.

I knew what I had to do. Master Vex had taught me a forbidden spell—one that could transfer life force from one being to another. The cost was terrible, but I didn't hesitate.

I began the incantation, drawing symbols on Elio's chest with his own blood. The air thickened around us as reality itself seemed to resist what I was attempting.

"Life to life, breath to breath," I whispered, the ancient words burning my tongue. "What death claims, I reclaim."

Power surged through me—dark, consuming, terrible. I could feel Elio's life force strengthening as something vital drained from me. The spell was working.

Suddenly, the air split open. Light poured through the rift—not warm sunlight, but the cold, piercing brilliance of stars. A Celestial Envoy emerged, its form barely contained in our reality.

"FORBIDDEN," its voice thundered, shaking the mountainside. "YOU DISRUPT THE BALANCE."

I didn't stop. Elio's breathing was steadying, the Mark beginning to glow again. "I don't care about your balance. I won't let him die."

The Celestial moved toward us, its light burning my shadow-attuned eyes. "THE HERO'S PATH MAY INCLUDE DEATH. IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO DECIDE."

"Watch me," I snarled, pouring more of myself into the spell.

The demon leader, who had been watching silently, now stepped forward. To my shock, it spoke in a guttural but understandable voice. "The mage defies cosmic law. Interesting."

The Celestial's attention snapped to the demon. "THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOUR KIND."

"Anything that disrupts your precious balance concerns us," the demon replied. "Perhaps we've been fighting the wrong enemy all this time."

I felt the spell completing, Elio's wounds knitting closed, his life force stabilizing. But something was happening to me. Darkness spread from my fingers up my arms, not shadow magic but something else—something transformative.

The Celestial moved to stop me, but the demon leader intercepted it. "I believe we have mutual interest in how this plays out."

Through waves of pain, I heard them negotiating. Celestial light and demonic energy clashed around us.

"A COMPROMISE, THEN," the Celestial finally declared. "THE HERO LIVES, BUT THERE MUST BE BALANCE."

The demon turned to me. "They require a sacrifice, shadow mage. A replacement."

I understood immediately. "Take me instead."

"Not your life," the demon clarified. "Your humanity."

The Celestial approached, its light now focused to a blinding point. "THE PACT REQUIRES A DEMON KING OF SUFFICIENT POWER TO BALANCE THE HERO. YOU HAVE SHOWN... POTENTIAL."

The realization hit me like a physical blow. "You want me to become..."

"THE HERO'S COUNTERWEIGHT. THE DARKNESS TO HIS LIGHT."

I looked down at Elio, whose color was returning, whose breathing had steadied. My best friend. My entire world.

"He won't know what happened here," the demon leader said. "The Celestials will alter his memory. To him, you will have died a hero's death."

Pain tore through me—not from the spell, but from the thought of Elio believing me dead, mourning me, perhaps blaming himself.

"Will I remember?" I asked.

"Everything," the Celestial confirmed. "THE BURDEN OF KNOWLEDGE IS PART OF YOUR SACRIFICE."

"And the alternative?"

"The Hero dies here," said the demon simply. "The prophecy fails. The world falls to chaos."

No choice at all, then.

"I accept," I whispered.

The transformation began immediately. Darkness consumed me, not like my familiar shadows but something ancient and primal. I felt my humanity being stripped away, replaced by something older, wilder, more powerful. Knowledge flooded my mind—demonic language, culture, magic—a thousand years of history suddenly mine.

Through it all, one thought remained: I can protect him better this way.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me completely was Elio's eyes opening, confusion giving way to recognition, then horror as he witnessed my transformation.

"Neri? What's happening? What have you done?"

I tried to speak, to explain, but my voice was changing, deepening, becoming something inhuman.

The Celestial moved between us, light enveloping Elio. "FORGET," it commanded.

Elio's expression went blank. The last thread connecting us—recognition in his eyes—snapped.

And then I was gone, pulled through realms of shadow into the heart of what humans called the Demon Kingdom, but which I now knew was called Morkath—the Twilight Realm.

My first thought upon arrival, as I gazed upon my new dominion with eyes that now saw through darkness as if it were daylight, was devastatingly simple:

I just lost everything to save him, and he'll never even know why.