The ritual chamber was dark, heavy with antique power. Pale blue runes traced the curves of the circular walls, pulsing in a steady rhythm like a heartbeat—alive, restless, and ready. Arion stood against the edge of the chamber; his silhouette sharp against the flickering runic light. Eira, Kiaran, and Lysander were ranged about the stone altar in the center, the relic upheld on a counterbalancing device that slowly revolved and floated in midair, as if defying every law of nature.

Arion's voice cut through the strain. "Listen well. The ritual is merciless. It will trap the darkness inside the relic, but only if we hold onto control. If we let it slip, it'll consume everything." His eyes passed over each of them, his attention falling on Lysander, whose features were darkened with impatience.

Eira looked up at Kiaran, her eyes a mix of concern and resolute determination. She stretched out, her fingers crossing his for a brief moment—a silent promise. Kiaran squeezed her hand back, feeling the warmth of her touch seep through his cold resolve. But as he shifted his gaze to Lysander, he saw only a figure wrapped in shadows, eyes reflecting a hunger that disturbed him. They had drifted far apart, and the gulf between them seemed to grow with every gasping breath in this accursed chamber.

Arion pushed forward; his voice thick. "Eira, the chanting will stoke the circle. Kiaran, control how much energy you feed into the relic. Lysander, your job is holding the shadows from slinking past the runes. Catch?"

But they nodded. Kiaran could still feel the doubt hanging in the air like a specter. Lysander steps closer to the altar, his eyes never wavering from the relic. Dark metal pulsing, promising only he can hear. Kiaran tightened his hold on his blade hilt, feeling the weight of what they were to unleash.

Eira began to chant, her low melodious voice filling the chamber with a language so ancient the air shivered. The runes responded; they glowed brighter and wove a net of blue light about the relic. Kiaran closed his eyes and focused his mind, drawing on the remnants of energy that Arion had taught him how to harness. He shot the power into the relic, feeling it resonate with a deep, ominous hum.

The shadows began to writhe around the relic like sorbents. They twisted and writhed, their black tendrils reaching out as if they wanted to break free. Eira's chanting was becoming strained, her voice cracking under the pressure of dark energy. She was drenched in sweat across the brow, but she still did not let up. Rather, steadying her hands over the writing of the runes, she kept going.

Kiaran struggled to breathe, his chest pumping with the exertion of keeping the energy flow inside the boundaries of the circle. The relic pushed back at him, evil malevolent energy seething up through his skin, making it crawl under his nails. He gritted his teeth and poured more into the circle, but the shadows fought harder still, their whispers growing louder, promising power, vengeance, and an end to suffering.

At the edge of his vision, Kiaran saw Lysander take a step forward into the chaos of darkness. His own hand shot out without his permission, fingers trembling, reaching out toward the shadows as if he were entranced by them. The darkness closed over his offered hand, teeth sinking into his flesh.

"Lysander, no!" Kiaran's voice cut through the ritual rhythm. Arion spun around with an anguished expression upon his face as the shadows spilled over into the cracks of the circle.

Lysander's lips twisted with bitter smile as he spoke in a low voice that was altogether unrecognizable. "Why bother to bind it when we can wield it, Kiaran? This power could make us gods."

The shadows lashed out, tendrils snapping like whips, and the runic barrier shattered with a burst of dark light. The chamber trembled as the shadows spread, engulfing the walls, snuffing out the blue glow. Arion shouted something, but his words were lost in the cacophony of darkness and power.

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Kiaran felt the shadows engulf him-cold and dripping, their soft words cutting into his thoughts. Visions passed before his eyes: enemies on their knees, burning cities under his hand, even his own past redone. He pressed himself harder to shunt it away, anchoring himself in Eira's voice, now desperate, pleading, in the silence.

Eira flung herself into the circle as well, her hands pulsing with a soft glow in a final attempt to energize the spell. She fought to grab hold of the shadows, conjuring up a fleeting shield for Kiaran. "Focus, Kiaran! Don't let it take you!"

He nodded, trying to force himself back under control, but the darkness clung to him, draining his strength. He looked at Lysander who now stood midst the swirling shadows, his eyes black as the void. Arion lunged toward him with a blade flashing in his hand but, with his strength, Lysander was faster and sent out a tendril of shadow that flung Arion crashing into the chamber wall.

"No!" Kiaran exclaimed as he saw Arion collapse, blood staining the floor beneath him. Revenge flared in his chest, burning through the haze of shadows. Reaching deep within the power that coursed through the circle, he gathered what was left of his strength and directed it at the relic.

The shadows screamed, recoiling as the energy surged, dragging them back toward the relic. Kiaran's vision blurred, but he reached in and focused on binding the darkness, pulling it away from Lysander even as the shadows clawed at him, trying to tear him apart from the inside.

"Lysander, stop this! You're losing yourself!" Kiaran's voice cracked, desperation slipping into his words.

But he stared with as much warmth as an ice block as he continued on in a hollow voice, "You've always been weak, Kiaran. I'll show you what power really is.".

Kiaran roared and threw everything he had into the circle, feeling the energy sizzle through him like flame. The shadows twisted, fought, but slowly, they began to collapse inward, sucked back into the relic's depths. Lysander stumbled as the darkness was ripped from his form, but reached again, his fingers touching the relic.

The relic flared, its light deepening into a sickly red. A shockwave of energy blasted through the chamber, and Kiaran felt himself flung to his knees. He heard Eira cry out, but the darkness drowned everything else. When the light faded, Lysander stood over the relic, pale skin, blackened veins, eyes that had lost all humanity.

Arion heaved himself to his feet, clutching at his side, his face a grim mask of agony. "He's become a vessel. the shadows have made him their puppet. You must go, now, before he turns on you.".

Struggling to get his feet, Kiaran felt a fatigue weigh against his limbs. Eira threw herself down beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she tried to mend the worst of his injuries. "We cannot simply leave him, Arion," she pleaded, her voice breaking.

Arion's face softened for a moment, then hardened again. "If you stay, you'll die. And this world will lose its only chance of fighting back." He cast a grim look at Lysander, who stood unmoving, his shadowy form blending with the darkness now filling the chamber.

Kiaran's heart curled into a bitter concoction of pain and fury. He outstretched, taking Eira's hand, to push himself up. "I'll find a way to save you, Lysander. or stop you, if it comes down to it."

Lysander's lips curled up into a mockery of a smile, his voice having an unearthly resonance to it. "You won't be prepared when we meet again, Kiaran. Next time, you won't have anyone to save you.".

With that, Lysander turned and vanished into the dark shadows, his form melting back into the dimness still lingering in the chamber. The room was cooling, the relic's glow to but a faint, pulsing ember in Kiaran's hand.

Kiaran, Eira, and Arion limped out of the ritual room, each step weighing with their failure. The forest beyond was full of fog, and a distant howl of some beast rippled the night air, a warning or perhaps a promise of the darkness that awaited them.

Arion clung to consciousness by his fingernails, and his bloodied hand seared against the back of Kiaran's shoulder. "Keep the relic safe. It's not over. the shadows know your name now.".

Kiaran nodded, feeling the relic throb in his grasp—a reminder of the power he'd tried to bind and the friend he'd lost to its allure. As Eira wrapped a supporting arm around him, he looked back at the ruined chamber, where shadows still whispered among the broken runes.

The darkness had been bound, but it wasn't defeated. And with Lysander lost to its depths, Kiaran knew that the real battle was only just commencing.