Steffan had been clear that walking the Winding Way would be no picnic. Reading drily from his Guide, he had explained that they had fallen into a 'place of stone and death that would drink in the group's lives like a thirsty creature.' Which was quite a vibe.
The tunnels they were walking down weren't just quiet—there was a complete absence of sound which was so deep it felt positively aggressive. They had defeated the Wraith, that was true. But each of them knew they would be sadly mistaken if they thought that would be the last time they were tested on this quest. However, all Steffan could tell them was that, as far as he could tell, they had to keep pressing forward. This didn't precisely feel like the best news they'd had since the integration began. Especially with their leader out for the count and their healer sadly lacking in the heals.
Speaking of which, Kris had positioned himself in the middle of their little group, the spot where the cowards and the cautious usually stayed. He wasn’t exactly sure which he was anymore, but he would be damned if he was going to let himself be picked off by any of the nasties he suspected were lurking in the walls. His eyes darted to every corner of the tunnel, tracking every unexpected movement. As he did so, his fingers twitched the hem of his robe, a motion he was repeating often, as if seeking reassurance it was still there.
What gnawed at him more than the lingering fear of their encounter with the Wraith, though, was something darker. Something he sensed was beginning to unravel inside him — something new, intoxicating, and terrifying. This energy he had drained from the Wraith – the fear of his friends - wasn't like any power he’d ever tasted before. It didn't have the flavour of the usual thrill he got from manipulating Adoration, from bending the wills of those basking in his charisma. No, what the Wraith had surrendered to him was something raw, something that felt as though it had been wrenched from the very essence of the creature to lodge deep within him.
It was powerful, he knew that.
Whereas Adoration had felt like a thin stream of energy trickling into his core, whatever this was had teeth. And it was growing, slithering its way through his veins, feeding on his fear and - and this was pretty interesting - the fear of those around him. Just in the short time they'd been walking, he was feeling stronger than he ever had since selecting the Charm Leech Class. Had he got it wrong, back then? Seeking Adoration in order to heal rather than . . . whatever this could be. This new power was a feral thing, and it whispered to him in the darkness of the tunnels, promising strength, control, dominance.
They don’t need to know, it whispered. They are fated never to understand.
Through the connection he used to monitor respect and admiration, Kris could feel the anxiety of the others, their fear seeping from their pores, and being pulled into the darkness inside him. Even now, he sensed he was more attuned to it than he had ever been to Adoration, it was like he was a bloodhound picking up a scent, and that realization scared him more than any Wraith ever could.
Of course, he would choose to keep this burgeoning strength hidden. After Lorelei had exposed his Class, none of them would trust him if he mentioned what he was experiencing now. However, as the minutes of the trek bled into hours, and the Winding Way twisted on and on, he felt his strength grow bolder, like a disease that had decided to stop pretending it wasn’t terminal. He could feel it in his fingertips, a surge that made them itch to act, to do something that he knew deep down would be irrevocable.
Just take it. They don’t want it. It will make you strong. Use what they offer to reach your destined role. Your rise is not subject to luck.
At that thought, Lorelei, cradled like a broken doll in Ent’s massive arms, drew his attention. She was pale, her skin translucent in the faint light, the debuff that had latched onto her crushing her by degrees. Even just yesterday, he would have felt only guilt for her condition, for not being able to help her more. Now, that guilt was tempered by a cold, almost clinical assessment of her fear, her weakness. It radiated from her, even in her semi-unconscious state, and was thrillingly potent. That fear called to him, promising to make him stronger if he only reached out and took it.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Now he thought about it, he could understand how the Wraith had twisted the party’s own fears against them, growing stronger with each shiver, each terrified breath it elicited from them. In that, the monster had been like a farmer gathering his harvest, and - and wasn't this interesting? – it appeared that Kris could do the same.
Fated to do the same.
All of that power was there, just waiting to be plucked free, to be used however he wished. A part of him—no, something more than just a part, something deep within—was ready, eager even, to take that step. The others, stumbling through the tunnels ahead, were lost in their own thoughts. They had no idea that the man walking among them was changing, that the creeping blackness within him was not just a passing shadow but a storm gathering strength. Even now, Kris was no longer a healer. No longer even a Charm Leech. He was becoming something else, something that he didn’t yet have a name for. But names didn’t matter. Not here. What mattered was that the power was real, and it was nearly his to command.
All you have to do was give in, just a little, and the rewards will be . . . substantial.
Kris’s mind wandered, just for a moment, to a world where he wielded this power openly. Fear was a tool far sharper than any dagger and more reliable than any of these friends. If he succumbed to these whispers, he wouldn’t need to charm or cajole anymore. Fuck Adoration. He could simply take what he wanted, when he wanted it, and there would be no one to stand in his way. Not the group, not the other adventurers they’d crossed paths with, not even the creatures that lurked in these fucking cursed tunnels. They would all kneel before him; whether out of loyalty or terror made no difference.
Kris shivered and shook his head, dispelling the thought like a bad dream. That wasn’t him. Was it? He wasn’t some megalomaniac, hungry for control. Nevertheless, as much as he tried to convince himself of that, he couldn’t deny the thrill that the thought had brought. It was like touching a flame and feeling the warmth before the pain set in—a warning that something worse was coming if he didn’t pull away.
But how could you pull away from something already inside you, growing stronger with every step you take? Accept your destiny. There is no other path open to you.
Kris glanced at his companions again, noting their exhaustion, their desperation. It would be easy to push them just a little to see how much further they could fall. The dark voice within him whispered encouragement, promises of power that no one could resist. It was seductive, a voice that felt like it was his own but deeper, richer, more certain.
He caught himself again, forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand. No. This was insane. They needed to find the amulet, and then escape this hellish place before it consumed them all. He couldn’t afford to let himself be distracted by the lure of this new power, no matter how strong it became.
Fate is patient. I have time, and I know that your resolve is like a candle in a storm—flickering, uncertain, easily snuffed out. The future is set. And I can see the choice you will make.
Lorelei groaned again, and Kris’s gaze snapped back to her. The sight of her frail form stirred something in him, something akin to pity but twisted by the darkness inside. He could help her, he realized. Why not take her fear, her pain, and use it to make himself stronger? The poor woman wouldn’t need to suffer, not like this. He could end it, end her suffering, and in doing so, claim more of the power that was waiting, hungry and eager.
What! That thought horrified him, and yet... it made a terrible kind of sense. But no, he couldn’t let himself think like that. He had to stay strong, to protect them, to lead them out of here. But how much easier would it be if they followed him out of fear rather than trust?
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself in the pain. The darkness surged, and he could feel it, like a wave crashing against a cliff, trying to wear him down, to erode his will. It whispered again, promising him power, control, everything he had ever wanted.
It has already happened, Kris. I can see it. Why fight what shall be?
Kris forced himself to keep walking, to focus on the path ahead. He had to stay in control, to keep the darkness at bay. But with every step they took, the power within him grew, and he knew that eventually, it would demand more than just his thoughts. It would demand action, and when that time came, he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist.
The others continued onward, oblivious to the battle raging within him, the darkness that was slowly, inexorably taking over. Kris smiled to himself, a small, secretive smile. Let them think he was still the same.
For now.
As they rounded yet another corner in the endless darkness of the Winding Way, Kris felt a strange calm settle over him. The darkness within was no longer just a whisper; it was a presence, a constant companion that walked alongside him. He could feel its tendrils curling around his thoughts, shaping them, guiding them. It was no longer a question of if he would use the power, but when.
And when that time came, he would be unstoppable.