Red candles glowed on tightly packed shelves. Smoke curled out and wrapped around Mitch’s body as he entered the small shop. With a faint thud, the door closed itself behind him, cutting off the outside world.

His body immediately recognized the scents, spreading blossoming warmth through his chest. Musk, paper glue, and the faint smell of flowers knocked him slightly off kilter.

It’s as if my body knows this place.

An ornate desk and purple high-backed chair sat empty directly in front of him. The shop looked unattended, which sent a surprising pang of disappointment through Mitch.

What is going on? Why is my body reacting like this? Who is…no, who was she to me?

Looking around, he inspected the cramped space. Jars of all sizes sat pressed together on one shelf. Their contents were unknowable to him, and they were thankfully sealed shut. Relics, large and small, lay haphazardly on shelves, organized in some pattern only understood by their current owner. Bones studded with gems, softly vibrating bracelets, and fanciful weapons were easily identifiable.

Others…well, Mitch could only wonder what they were supposed to be. Twisted amalgamations of flesh and potent dark energy.

At least I think that’s flesh…

“Mitchell, you’re late, as usual,” a husky, teasing feminine voice whispered in his ear, turning him towards the door.

The air shifted, dimming the available light, and when Mitch turned back, Mathilda was seated in the purple chair behind the desk.

Long, jet-black hair framed her milk-white face. She appeared to be a gorgeous woman in her late twenties. Perfect, save for the fine silver lines tracing her pale skin. It was cracked like marble, barely visible, but unmistakable upon closer inspection. The marks of an ancient, pure-blooded vampire.

Damn. Crazy hot. Sheesh. He couldn’t help the thought as he felt himself check out the vampire.

“Hello, newcomer.” She smiled at him, revealing her surgically sharp fangs. Shock and fear pulsed within him.

She knows. How does she know?

Before he could respond, she leaned forward and spoke softly. “Careful now, your thoughts betray you. Many creatures bound to the Abyss have such Skills, mine is just particularly potent.”

Her lavender perfume drifted towards him. Heat stirred low in his stomach, unwelcome and undeniable, his body reacting in ways he couldn’t control. It called out to her.

My body is reacting far too quickly for this to be normal. This must be a Skill.

“How…Who are you to me? My body knows you,” he said, fear gripping firmly to his spine, mixing with physical longing.

Raising a manicured finger, she wagged it at him as if he were a mere boy. “Not quite the man you once were, isn’t that right?” Her voice dripped with faux sincerity.

A strange force pulsed between them, freezing him and thickening the air as she carried on. “A bullied boy, a family disavowed. Taking it for years, never standing up for yourself once. I’ll bet a part of you even misses it. The beatings from your father with that dog leash. The taste of dirt and laughing schoolmates. At least they noticed you, then.”

The words stabbed at him, more painful than they should be from a stranger. Mitch’s throat constricted. A sharp ache built behind his ribs. Rage surged beneath the surface, each breath rough. Clenching his fists, he felt the glass wounds tear anew, mixing with the raw ache of old hurts barely healed.

How does she know about my past?

“Get the hell out of my head,” he growled. But his body remained locked in fear by the door. All his life, he would fight, but only if backed into a corner. A result of never being as big as anyone else.

“You think you can handle what’s coming? After soiling your pajamas in anticipation of a drunk fathers’ beatings? I can’t believe you made it this far without ending it all already, even before you were brought here,” she mocked him as the air pressed harder. Humiliation, shame, anger, and fear shoved any rational thought aside.

Gentler, she spoke. “Cast it aside, Mitchell. You need to. Lock it away.”

Why is she saying this, if my body recognizes her as friendly?

Confusion mixed in, and he tried to calm his hammering heart and whirling head of dark emotions.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Breathe. In…out. Don’t let it consume you.

Affliction Skill Gained

Devoid

Level 1

Lock away undesired emotions and thoughts. Feel only what you wish.

All emotions and thoughts must be addressed eventually.

The new Affliction Skill rushed into him, settling inside like a false drawer. Mitch took as much of the shame, anger, and fear of his past and pressed it into his Devoid Skill. A torrent of relief washed over him as much, but not all, of the emotions squeezed into the small box within him.

With a final shove, he slammed the door shut. Rationality returned.

Her dark laugh garnered his attention, “You’re welcome. With thoughts as loud as yours, I had to be a bit more…forceful. I’m sorry, but it was necessary. I can still hear them, but I am…special.”

Special?

“Did you do that for the others? How many of us?” The question came out like mud from Mitch, the stark reality of his circumstance bubbling forth from the absence of emotions.

“Some, but not all. Each had different Skills, but there are some…similarities. The Abyss marks each of you differently. All have shattered under its weight.” She stated, her voice steady but filled with sorrow.

“What am I supposed to do? If you know of the Abyssal debt, you must know something. Anything.” His voice came out strained.

“Answers I cannot give you,” Mathilda’s lips twitched, a flash of something. Pain, perhaps, or regret. She lowered her gaze from meeting his own, tracing the fine silver lines along her palm. “I’m…bound. Just like you, Mitchell. Bound by a pact older than this ancient city. There are certain things a vampire cannot reveal, as the pacts bind us. They hold my tongue as they hold your fate.”

“That’s it then? Figure it out, or die like the others? Kill myself?” His voice cracked. “I’m supposed to kill and collect souls? Thieve until I’m caught? For a debt I don’t even understand. Face the Collector? I need something!”

“Collectors. That much I can say,” meeting his gaze again, she leaned back in her chair. “And this. Just a word of advice,” the candlelight reflected off her eyes as she continued. “Remember, one must always go forward. The way is never paved by going around. That I can say, as it’s general advice.”

I’m supposed to embrace what’s happening to me? Is that what she means?

Mitch’s eyes fell to the cuff pendant around her neck. His body stirred with recognition, but the knowledge danced just out of reach, behind a locked drawer. Straining, he could almost taste it. But no matter how hard he reached, the memory slipped through his fingers, fading like a forgotten song.

“Thank you for helping me with the Skill,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I can repay you for that.”

“Polite, too.” she said coyly. “The last one was much too sulky. One can only hope you don’t squander your time like him. As for payment…hmm,” she tapped her finger on her black lips, thinking.

Is she toying with me?

Mathila’s serious face peeled back in a viscous smile, eyes gleaming in the low candlelight. Without a word, she gracefully reached below her desk and withdrew a small black box, wrapped in silver chains that glimmered in the flickering candlelight. The chains were far too heavy for such a small object. She placed it on the desk before him, the weight of its presence unsettling.

“This,” she said in a pleased tone, “is for Robin. He will know what to do with it, and Crae’s lot will be more than satisfied. It’s delivery is payment enough.”

Mitch glanced at the black box, eyes narrowing. “What’s in it?”

She smiled, sharp and secretive. Mitch’s pulse quickened, something magnetic drawing him toward her, a warmth spreading through his chest. “You don’t need to know, yet. Just that it’s enough to keep their curiosity sated.”

It’s like my body has a mind of its own, separate from me. I know she’s attractive, but this is something different.

He reached for the box, but before he could grasp it, Mathilda’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist lightly, yet with strength that startled him. His skin prickled under her touch. “Before you leave,” she said, “I have something for you. A token.”

Mitch’s eyes met hers, wariness creeping in. After years of torment in his previous life, he had pushed people away. He liked her, and felt a semblance of trust for what she’d already done, but his hackles were still raised at the idea of another gift.

Never trust those that are too giving.

She let go of his wrist and opened a small drawer, producing a thin, silver key on a chain. Polished metal, shimmering like moonlight, and engraved with swirling patterns. She placed it in front of him.

“This key,” Mathilda said, her voice serious now, “will open a door. One day, I hope you will find that door, and when you do, this will let you in.” Her eyes met his, unwavering. “But you must promise me something.”

“What kind of promise?” He asked gruffly, uncertainty gnawing.

“A favor,” she said, leaning back in her plush chair, her eyes shining with intensity. “When the time comes, I will call upon you, and you will answer. No questions asked.”

Mitch stared at the key lying there, the weight of the deal pressing at him. He felt the pull of the unknown, same as the Abyss that ran through his veins. For some reason that he couldn’t explain, he wanted to accept.

Maybe it was his body’s familiarity, maybe it was her Skills, maybe it was the clawing desperation he felt for some form of control over his circumstance.

Nodding slowly, he picked up the key, turning it over in his bleeding fingertips. “Alright,” he answered gruffly. “I’ll work with you. But don’t mistake me for the last one, or anyone else. You might think you know me, but I’m nothing like them. Push me, and you’ll find out what happens when you corner someone with nothing to lose.”

Mathilda’s lips curved into a wicked, knowing smile, her eyes glinting with something that may have been respect or amusement. “Come for me, will you?” she chuckled softly, a jolt to his core. “Perhaps… things will be different this time.”

Her laughter was soft, but the weight of it lingered. Leaning forward, her marble-cracked fingers traced over the silver key before retracting, brushing his bloody, wrag-covered palm in some unspoken agreement.

Quest: Open the Sealed Door

Use the Key on the Door.

Answer Mathilda’s Call.

Status: Incomplete

Mitch’s grip tightened on the small key before slipping it over his head and tucking it under his black t-shirt. Many questions remained, but he’d be damned if he let the Abyss or anyone else fully dictate his fate. Even a seemingly concerned vampire.

He picked up the black box, the weight of the chains heavier than expected. It took him another moment to place Crae’s party favor in his pack.

A final look at Mathilda, something deep within him took her in, melancholic for her touch. Turning to leave, he stopped at the door, a question stabbing at his mind. Without looking back, he asked in a rough voice, “Whose soul is in my core?”

Thick silence pressed. He thought she might ignore the question, but then Mathilda’s measured and cool voice drifted through her shop.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she replied sadly. “And when you do, Mitchell, I hope you’ll carry the same resolve you do now.”

Without answering, he pushed open her red door and stepped out into the oppressive cold of Shadowreach.

Crae’s Agency would be arriving at Club Mythos shortly. He needed to get moving.