Dominion led Erik back through the temple, down a series of winding corridors that seemed to twist and turn in ways that defied logic. The walls were lined with more of those strange runes, their glow growing stronger as they moved deeper into the temple. They eventually reached a large, open chamber, the ceiling high above supported by massive stone columns carved with intricate figures that loomed over them like silent sentinels. The columns were covered in a latticework of more runes, each one glowing with a cold, eerie light that seemed to come from nowhere, casting long, wavering shadows across the floor.

Dominion stopped at the center of the chamber, turning to face Erik. His expression was calm, unreadable, his eyes cold and dark beneath the shadow of his hood. He gestured to a small stone bench along the wall, his voice smooth as he spoke.

“Wait here,” Dominion instructed.

“Vesper will be arriving shortly to begin your training. There is much you must learn, and she will guide you in this first stage.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Erik, as though assessing something about him. Dominion turned and began to walk back up the corridor they had come through, his robes trailing behind him, the runes glowing more intensely as he moved past. Erik watched him for a moment, his gaze lingering on the way the light of the runes seemed to pulse in time with Dominion’s steps, as though the temple itself was responding to him soon his figure was swallowed by the shadows, leaving Erik alone in the vast chamber.

***

Dominion stopped before a large stone door, its surface carved with runes far more intricate than any that adorned the rest of the temple. He placed his hand against the cold stone and the door shifted, the runes glowing briefly before it swung open, revealing a place of shadows and silence, a place where the air itself seemed to hum with the absence of life.

Dominion stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. He moved to the center of the room, where a large stone altar stood, its surface covered with symbols that seemed to writhe and twist of their own accord. He knelt before the altar, his head bowed, his hands resting on the cold stone and he pulled a small knife from his pocket and sliced his palm letting the blood drop on a rune activating it in a deep red glow.

“Great One,” Dominion said, his voice unwavering, reverberating through the chamber like a hymn. He knelt before the altar, his head bowed in reverence, though his posture spoke of pride rather than fear.

“I bring word of our progress. The boy has been located. He has survived the rites, as was foreseen. The demon within him is bound, ready to serve its purpose.”

The chamber remained still, the air heavy with anticipation. The faint glow of the runes dimmed, as if drawing breath. Then, the voice came, a sound that neither rose nor fell, resonating in perfect neutrality.

“So it unfolds.”

The name it spoke was no mere label but a crown of dominion and power, a title that echoed in the marrow of existence. The dispassion in the voice made its weight all the more crushing.

“Your work continues, then. As it should,” the Great One said,

“The boy’s core is vital. It must be taken, and the demon… offered. With these, we restore what was never theirs to steal.”

Dominion raised his head slightly, his eyes alight with fervor.

“It is more than duty, Great One. It is privilege. The boy is being prepared even now. He will soon be brought to the place of offering. As for the girl; she plays her role beautifully. She is his tether. His comfort. She keeps him pliant.”

The pause that followed was almost imperceptible, a silence born not of consideration but indifference. Then came a faint chuckle, devoid of warmth, like wind scraping across a graveyard.

Dominion pressed his hands to the altar, his fervor undiminished.

“The time is nearly upon us, Great One. The harvest will yield the glory you have long awaited.”

“The harvest is but a step,” the voice intoned, its apathy cutting deeper than any rage.

“The steps are many. The path is long. Do not mistake a single victory for triumph.”

“I would never presume,” Dominion said, his tone almost reverent.

“Each step is your will, each moment an honor to enact.”

The runes flickered faintly, and the voice spoke again, each word a monument of apathy carved into the air.

“You speak well. But words do not bind fate. Action does. Do not falter.”

“I shall not falter,” Dominion declared, his fervor rising. “I live only to serve.”

The runes pulsed faintly, and the voice fell silent, its presence receding like a tide drawn back into the abyss. The chamber grew colder, yet Dominion felt only the warmth of purpose as he rose from his kneeling position. He stood tall, his lips curling into a small, zealous smile.

***

Inside Erik’s mind, the Demon stirred, its presence more pronounced now that Erik had begun to grow accustomed to the power flowing through him. It had been quiet for some time, watching, observing, allowing Erik to acclimate to the changes that had been wrought upon his body. But now, it spoke, its voice echoing through Erik's thoughts; low, resonant, filled with a sense of urgency.

"Listen to me" the Demon growled, its tone sharper, more aggressive than before.

"There is something about that man; Dominion… that you need to know. I can see many things, perceive much that you cannot. But he... he is blocked from me." Erik frowned, his gaze drifting to Dominion, who was walking ahead of him, his robe flowing around him like a living shadow.

"What do you mean, blocked?"

"I mean I cannot see him," the Demon snapped, its frustration palpable.

"I cannot see his core, his meridians, his essence. It is as though he does not exist; at least, not in the way that others do. Something conceals him, something powerful."

Erik's stomach twisted at the Demons words, a chill running down his spine. Dominion had always been an enigma, a man who seemed to know far more than he should, a man who spoke in riddles and half-truths. But now, hearing the Demons warning, Erik felt a growing sense of unease, an instinctive feeling that something was very wrong but he hadn't realized it until someone had pointed it out.

"Why tell me this now?" Erik asked, his voice a whisper in his own mind.

"Because I have had time to observe, to understand what is happening here," the N’Zol replied, its tone cold.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I may be bound, but I am not powerless. And now that your body has begun to acclimate to the power within it, I can see more clearly. Dominion hides inside of a temple that hide everyone, and that means he is hiding something from us as well."

"So what do we do?" Erik asked, his voice tight.

"For now, we do nothing," the Demon said, its tone sharp.

"You are not ready. You need training, strength, and knowledge. You must learn to harness the power within you, to understand it, to control it. Only then will you be able to face whatever Dominion is planning." Erik nodded, though he couldn't shake the growing sense of new dread that had settled in his chest.

"And one more thing," the Demon said, a hint of dark amusement in its voice. "That woman…Vesper. She needs something to soften her edges. Perhaps a good lay would do the trick."

Erik almost choked, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?" he coughed out loud.

"I said what I said" the Demon said, its tone smug. "She's wound tighter than a bowstring. It would do her good to loosen up. Though, I suppose that’s none of my concern… unless, of course, you make it my concern, I can always give more power.. For other parts of your body. Demons have needs too."

Erik shook his head, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smile despite himself. The Demons crude humor was unexpected, but somehow, it eased the tension that had settled over him. It was a reminder that, for all the darkness and danger, he was not alone.

"Focus" the Demon snapped, though there was a hint of amusement in its tone.

"We have work to do, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Footsteps echoed softly in the corridor, pulling him from his thoughts. He straightened, his gaze turning toward the entrance just as Vesper appeared, her silhouette framed by the dim light. She moved with purpose, her stride confident, her eyes meeting his as she approached. She was dressed in her training attire, the simple leather armored tunic and trousers hugging her form in a way that accentuated her strength, her every movement fluid and precise. Her gaze was sharp, assessing, as she came to a stop in front of him.

"You ready?" she asked, her voice as steady as ever

He nodded, pushing aside the thoughts that had been troubling him, focusing instead on the task at hand. " Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good," she said after a moment, her tone brisk.

"Let's begin."

Erik rose from the bench, following her to the center of the training hall, the atmosphere charged with anticipation.

Erik clenched his jaw, forcing himself to concentrate. He had to stay focused. Vesper's eyes were on him, her expression unreadable, and he knew this was his chance to prove himself; not just to her, but to himself as well.

The training was about to begin, and Erik knew that he couldn't afford to let anything hold him back. Not the demon, not his fears, and certainly not the confusing, unfamiliar emotions that seemed to swirl just beneath the surface. This was his chance to grow stronger, to take the first step toward understanding the power within him. And he wasn't about to let anything get in his way.

Vesper twirled her sword in her hand, her gaze sharp as she measured Erik, sizing him up.

Erik gave a slight nod, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. He could feel the energy in his veins, the raw potential that lay beneath the surface, but he pushed it down, choosing instead to rely on what he knew, his training, his discipline, his instincts. The demon inside him might have given him power, but it was the lessons from his childhood, the years of honing his body and mind, that he was going to use now.

Vesper moved first, lunging forward with a quick, calculated strike, her blade aimed at Erik's shoulder. He sidestepped, his movement smooth and practiced, his own sword coming up to parry her attack with a sharp clang. She shifted her weight, spinning with a speed that took Erik by surprise, her blade slicing toward his midsection. He twisted, the edge of her sword barely grazing his tunic as he ducked beneath her swing, countering with a quick thrust aimed at her side.

Vesper blocked the blow with a flick of her wrist, her eyes narrowing as she stepped back, reassessing him. There was no hesitation in his movements, no sign of uncertainty. He was quick, confident. Even more so than she had expected. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—surprise, perhaps even respect—but she didn't let it linger.

"You're better than I thought," she muttered under her breath, barely audible.

Erik didn't respond, his eyes focused on her, reading her movements, waiting for the next strike. She lunged again, her blade a blur of motion, but Erik was ready. He stepped forward, meeting her strike head-on, their swords clashing with a force that reverberated through his arms. He twisted his wrist, locking her blade against his for a moment before pushing her back. Vesper's eyes widened slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She shifted her stance, her feet light on the stone floor as she circled him, her gaze never leaving his. Erik matched her movements, his body relaxed, his sword held steady.

She struck again, a rapid series of blows; left, right, overhead. Erik met each one, his sword moving with precision, his movements fluid and effortless. He could see the shift in her expression, the growing frustration as her strikes failed to find their mark. Their swords clashed again, the sound ringing out in the stillness of the hall. Vesper's eyes flicked to his, a flash of something; anger, determination. She stepped back, her breath coming faster, and Erik could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenched.

She was getting fed up.

Erik felt a thrill of satisfaction; he had read her wrong too, underestimated her intensity, but now he was beginning to understand. She wanted to test him, to see if he was worth her time, worth the effort of training. And he was showing her that he was. Their swords met again, the clash of metal ringing out as Erik twisted his body, bringing his blade up to block her strike. He stepped forward, pressing the attack, his movements swift, precise, one strike, two, a thrust, a slash. Vesper blocked each one, her face a mask of concentration.

And then she snapped.

With a growl of frustration, Vesper leaped back, her eyes narrowing as she raised her free hand. Erik could see the glow of magic, the air around her hand shimmering with heat, the faint scent of something burning filling the room.

"Enough," she said, her voice sharp, commanding.

She muttered a word under her breath, a word that seemed to resonate with power, and Erik saw the flames begin to gather around her hand, coiling like a serpent ready to strike.

“Arkon!" Vesper shouted, her voice echoing through the hall, the intensity of her magic surging around her.

The flames erupted from her hand, a searing torrent of fire that shot toward Erik with blinding speed. For a split second, Erik's eyes widened, the heat of the approaching flames rushing toward him unsure of how to react due to the quickness and movement of the spell and then, without thinking or deciding to move, his demon-imbued hand shot up. The mouth on his palm opened wide, jagged teeth glinting with a sinister gleam as it caught the bolt of fire, swallowing it whole. The flames disappeared into the dark maw in an instant, the sound of the crackling fire replaced by the slow, deliberate chewing of the demon's mouth. Erik watched, almost detached, as the mouth moved, grinding the flames into nothingness. Then, with an almost comically loud burp, a large plume of smoke escaped, dissipating in the air.

"Ahhhh...," the demon spoke through Eriks hand, the grin on Erik's palm widening, the white teeth almost glowing in the dim light of the hall.

For a moment, the entire hall fell silent. Vesper’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in pure shock. She took an instinctive step back, her gaze fixed on the grotesque sight of Erik's hand, the mouth grinning back at her as if taunting her. Her breathing quickened, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. Erik had just absorbed her magic.

Her brow furrowing as she tried to process what she was seeing. Her voice trembled slightly

“Did your hand just eat my spell?”

Her eyes bore into his, a mix of disbelief and a hint of fear. She took a hesitant step back, her hand still loosely gripping her sword, as if unsure whether to drop her guard or strike at whatever darkness lay within him.

“You shouldn't be able to do that”

her gaze drifting back to the grinning mouth on Erik’s palm. Confounded, confused, and intrigued, Vesper seemed at a loss. Whatever she had thought of Erik, it had changed, whether for better or worse, even she didn’t know."

Erik glanced down at his hand, the mouth still there, still smiling, and he couldn't help but give a wry smile of his own, almost apologetic.

"Looks like I'm full of surprises," he said, trying to keep his tone light, though he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

The demon chuckled darkly, its voice reverberating through Erik's mind, smug satisfaction evident in its tone. It didn't say more, but Erik could feel its pleasure, the thrill it took from devouring the magic, and the way it relished in the shock it had caused. Vesper’s expression shifted her surprise replaced by something else, something harder. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw setting as she stared at Erik, trying to make sense of what she had just seen. She lowered her sword slightly, her gaze never leaving him, her body tensed, ready for whatever came next. The room was thick with tension, and Erik could almost see the gears turning in her mind, the questions she was too stunned to ask.

Slowly, Vesper straightened, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. Her eyes locked on Erik's, and there was something different now; something deeper, more serious.

"Again," she said, her voice steady,

though Erik could see the wariness in her eyes, the way she was reassessing him, trying to understand what he really was. Erik nodded, his heart still racing, adrenaline surging through him. He brought his sword up, meeting Vesper's gaze, and for the first time, he saw a glimmer of respect there and an acknowledgment that he was more than what she had expected.