The silence of the underground corridor pressed upon Kiaran like a tangible weight, thickening the air with every step he took. Stone partitions slick with condensation and streaked with an unidentifiable, dark sludge hemmed him in on both sides, narrowing as if to smother him within their grim embrace. The low torchlight forged flickering shadows that seemed to crawl alongside the damp stone, whispering secrets he wasn’t meant to recognize.

Kiaran’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, a legitimate that felt intrusive on this silent realm. He clenched his fists, knuckles whitening, readying himself for something lay ahead. He became no stranger to darkness, but this becomes distinct—thicker, alive, as even though the shadows themselves had a pulse, driven by using a few unseens, malevolent will.

His mind again to Eira. Their shared glances, her courage, the ferocity of her loyalty… It anchored him on this forsaken place, reminding him why he fought. She was the cause he turned into right here, the reason he endured to push towards forces a way past his strength.

Suddenly, the hall opened into an extensive, cavernous chamber, suffused with an unnatural glow. Shadows writhed at its edges, pooling like ink. At a long way cease, a darkish discern stood atop a dais, draped in robes as black as night time itself, as though woven from the shadows around them. The determiner’s face remained concealed, yet an air of secrecy of cold menace emanated from them, a force that chilled the air and dispatched prickles of dread racing down Kiaran’s spine.

“Welcome, Kiaran,” the figure spoke, their voice echoing like a hollow chime via the chamber. “I was awaiting you.”

Kiaran straightened, steeling himself. “Who are you?”

The determine chuckled, a valid that grated like stone in opposition to stone. “I am regarded by many names, but none of them would suggest whatever to you. For now, you can name me the Shadowmancer.”

A relax crept over him as the parent’s phrases sank in. The Shadowmancer—a name whispered most effective in dark corners, a force that manipulated shadows to do their bidding. Legends spoke of these touched through darkness; creatures twisted past reputation via powers they could not manipulate. Yet right here one stood, speak me with a strange calm.

“What do you need from me?” Kiaran demanded, preserving his voice regular no matter the growing fear gnawing at him.

The Shadowmancer spread their hands, fingers curling like claws. “I do now not need from you, Kiaran Voss. I am here to offer you something that even your strongest choice cannot attain.”

Kiaran’s gaze sharpened, suspicion burning thru his fear. “You want to make a deal, then?”

The Shadowmancer tilted their head, eyes glowing beneath the shadow in their hood. “Not a deal, consistent with se. An alliance. You are looking for power, sure? The form of strength that can cut down folks that stand on your manner, to conquer even the electricity that shackles you.”

Kiaran clenched his jaw, understanding the temptation at the back of the words. His curse—it was the chain that sure him to the desire of others, a shackle he’d attempted countless instances to break.

“What’s in it for you?” he asked, crossing his palms, each fiber of his being cautious. Dark pacts had been rarely one-sided.

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“Ah, such suspicion,” the Shadowmancer purred, transferring slowly down the dais steps, shadows spilling from their gowns with every step. “In go back, I simply ask for your service. The power I bestow upon you would include a cause—a small project to satisfy within the coming days.”

The Shadowmancer’s tone changed into casual, yet each word weighed closely on Kiaran’s mind. He knew what this supposed. These kinds of bargains usually exacted a fee, one that regularly proved more than the promised reward.

“I don’t promote my soul to everybody,” Kiaran replied, voice taut.

The Shadowmancer laughed again, the sound hollow and mirthless. “Oh, Kiaran. You have already sold extra of yourself than you realize, bound by oaths and curses that sicken your soul like a festering wound. I am simply providing you a key to liberate the ability within that very agony.”

The air thickened round him, shadows pressing closer, tasting his fear and doubts. Kiaran’s mind flashed to his beyond, the failures, the betrayals, the infinite instances he’d been powerless, helpless in opposition to enemies more than him. This changed into the course he had chosen—a descent into the dark, to claw his way out of the pit fate had cast him into. He raised his gaze, assembly the Shadowmancer’s piercing stare.

“What exactly might I benefit?” he asked, his tone guarded.

The Shadowmancer raised a pale, skeletal hand. Shadows twisted round it, forming into shapes, faces contorted in anguish and ecstasy alike. “You could have the power to command the darkness itself. To wield it as a blade, a guard… a means to overwhelm folks who think themselves untouchable. And all I ask in go back is your fealty, your service, after I name upon you.”

Kiaran took a step back, his eyes locked at the writhing shadows. The temptation gnawed at him, digging its claws into his heart. This changed into what he’d sought, what he’d bled for—the electricity to rise above folks that’d wronged him. But he knew too nicely the cost of such pacts, the chains that got here with electricity so freely given.

“I’ll never be your puppet,” he spat, defiance flaring in his gaze.

The Shadowmancer chuckled softly, the sound low and mocking. “Puppet? No, no. You misunderstand. You would be a pressure of your very own, a tool of your will alone. I simply provide the manner to break the chains that have sure you for see you later.”

Kiaran’s clear up wavered, a crack appearing inside the castle of his thoughts. His curse had defined him, restrained him, and right here became the promise of freedom—authentic freedom, the strength to carve his very own course, unshackled from the chains of destiny.

“What do you say, Kiaran?” the Shadowmancer’s voice softened, nearly gentle. “Will you let worry maintain you lower back, or will you include the electricity you deserve?”

Kiaran’s gaze burned with fury and desperation, the fireplace of someone who were crushed too typically, who had fought and misplaced, who had bled for a motive he could not even declare as his own. His choice, his decision, his freedom—he saw it there, in the darkness, beckoning like a lover.

“I be given,” he stated, voice slightly greater than a whisper.

The Shadowmancer smiled, shadows coiling tighter round him, sealing the %. The second the words left his lips, a searing ache erupted in his chest, black tendrils latching onto his heart, burrowing deep into his soul. He gasped, feeling his strength sap away, then go back tenfold, a wave of darkish electricity flooding his veins, his blood grew to become to shadow, his essence woven with darkness.

The world round him sharpened, each shadow now a weapon at his disposal, every whisper a promise of power. He appeared up, meeting the Shadowmancer’s gaze with newfound strength, feeling the chains of his curse loosen, his coronary heart swelling with raw, unbridled power.

“Go now, Kiaran,” the Shadowmancer commanded softly, their voice a ghostly murmur. “Bring the shadows with you. And when the time comes, don't forget the name you as soon as whispered within the dark.”

With that, the Shadowmancer vanished, dissipating into the shadows themselves, leaving Kiaran alone in the chamber, his coronary heart pounding with the thrill of electricity, the flavor of darkness nevertheless lingering on his tongue. He had taken the step, plunged himself into the abyss—and now, he might rise from it, stronger, darker, reborn in shadow.