The guild hall, normally vibrant with an undertone of tension, was only bubbling tonight. Kiaran felt it as he wandered through the corridors—chilly stares, hushed whispers, sidelong glances. His presence had always demanded attention, but now it inspired fear. The shadow of the relic was growing over him, and the guild began to wonder if their chosen bearer was more risk than reassurance.

Word had traveled of his recent victory, of the raw, overwhelming power he had unleashed. And the cost of that power was etched upon every face around him. Even his allies said nothing, between the admiration and the dread of what Kiaran might become if he continued down this road.

She found him walking down the corridor to his quarters. There, in the hallway, her face etched with lines of worry, Eira stood. "Kiaran, we have to talk," she said.

He halted, his expression unreadable as he met her gaze. "Is it the council?" he asked, knowing she had more to tell him than her anxious eyes betrayed.

Eira nodded, moving him into an empty room. "More than the council. They're thinking on what to do with you, and it's not a conversation I can stop. Some are afraid of what you are changing to. They think… they think the relic is making you different."

"Changing me?" Kiaran repeated, his voice laced with bitterness. "They're afraid of something they cannot control. They always were."

"But they're not wrong to worry," she argued, taking a step forward, her voice pleading. "You've been so different since the relic took hold. You wield it like a weapon but there's a price, Kiaran—a toll it's taking on you, on all of us."

He watched her, irritation boiling, but well below the surface of his serene mask. "The price is survival, Eira. You of all people should understand that. This power… it's what's keeping us alive."

The expression softened Eira's face, her voice barely a whisper. "At what cost? Kiaran, you don't see it, but I do. It's changing you. If you lose yourself to that relic, what will you have left?

A pang of something uncomfortably close to regret tightened in his chest, but he squashed it. "There's no room for weakness in this guild. They know that, and I know that. The relic is what gives me strength."

Eira's shoulders sagged, her eyes drifting out of focus. "Maybe that's the reason they're afraid of you," she whispered. "If you keep this up, they'll turn on you. Even those who stood by you once."

Kiaran turned away, jaw clenched, but her words hung in the air, scratching at the edges of his resolve. He had chosen power, but how much longer could he hold onto everything else?

He drifted into the empty training yard, his footsteps echoing around him. The silence was heavy, like the darkness itself, kind and indifferent. Shadows on the walls flickered, bending to his will when he called on the relic's power. A familiar and intoxicating weight, this. Shadows twisted and curled at his command, dancing like specters eager to serve. The more he made use of the relic, the easier it became to form the shadowy darkness into an appendage of himself.

But as he sank deeper into the training, pushing himself to his breaking point, a picture clawed at his mind, rising out of the deep well of the relic itself. Flickers of this tortured future unfold – scenes of betrayal, eyes turned against him, friends now enemies with their weapons drawn. Each one burned itself into his mind like a nightmare he couldn't wake from. Eira stood among them, her face deathly pale, lines in her eyes spoke sorrow.

Kiaran staggered, the sight there and then vanished as quickly as it had occurred, leaving a hollow gnaw in his chest. His hands shook as power seeped back into him like some phantom retreating at the break of dawn. Was this the future he stepped into-where his own mates would turn against him?

By the time he thought upon that point, a voice called out from the training ground's rim.

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"Pushing yourself again, Kiaran?" It was Sable Nyx, her figure emerging from the darkness as if she were part of it.

He tensed but stood his ground. "What do you want, Sable?"

She had the sly, sweet smile aimed between her parted lips, but it was the long-cast look which was disturbing - the epitome of focus. "Only to help you understand your power," she said. "But do you know, the more you rely on this relic, the more it will demand in return. It's not a tool; it's a choice. And it won't be patient forever."

He met her gaze, not giving up. "I can handle it. Whatever price it asks, I'm willing to pay."

Are you?" she asked, her voice like velvet, challenging him. "Because the price may be everything you hold dear. To truly wield it you might need to sever ties with those who make you weak." Her eyes flicked toward where Eira had stood, her meaning unmistakable.

Kiaran's fists flexed tight, his mind flashing to Eira's face, the quiet desperation in her voice as she spoke of his power consuming him. "You don't understand," he said, his voice tight. "I can't abandon them."

Sable's smile was almost pitying. "You think you can have both power and loyalty? How quaint. You're walking a razor-thin line, Kiaran. Sooner or later, you'll have to choose.

Her words burrowed inside him like poison, twisting the doubts into something sharper, darker. For a moment, he wondered if she was right. But then he stuck that aside, unwilling to give her that satisfaction.

"Get out of here, Sable," he growled, turning his back on her.

"Fine," she whispered, her voice drowsing like a shadow as she melted away into the darkness. But her words lingered, floating around inside of him for what felt like an eternity after she was gone.

That night, Kiaran returned to his quarters, his mind like a whirlpool of conflicting desires and fear. The guild was on the edge; the relic's power, closer and closer within him seeped; and those whom he cared were beginning to question his choices. For all that time, he had been convinced he could bear it alone, but now cracks were beginning to show.

He sat there, looking into the darkness as if searching for answers that shadows couldn't give. The relic pulsed inside of him, whispering its own truths and promising strength and safety if he only gave more of himself. But what was left to give?

The silence in the hallway was abrupt in its interruption by a sudden knock at the door. He stood there, his hand resting near his weapon, half-expecting another confrontation. But instead, it was Eira standing there with a face lit only by the faint torchlight shining through the hall.

"Kiaran," she whispered softly as she stepped inside. "I wanted to check on you. You seemed distant."

He closed the door behind her. Not once did he look up from his scan of the floor. "Apparently, they need me distant. The council believes me to be dangerous, Eira. That I can't be trusted."

She sighed, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "They are frightened, yes. But you don't have to go through this alone. You have allies here, people who care about you."

For one moment, he could believe it, convince himself that he was not as alone as he had made himself to be. But the image of betrayal - his comrades turning against him - seeped back into his mind. Could he afford to put all his trust in others, knowing that one day they would turn on him?

"Better this way," he muttered. "Since if I do not depend on anyone, then no one can use my weakness against me."

"Is that really what you believe?" Eira asked, her voice tinged with sadness. "Or is it just what the relic wants you to believe?

He looked at her, the gravity of her query weighing down upon him. For a moment, he suspended there, balanced upon a fulcrum between trust and power, loyalty and solitude.

"Eira … if it came to that—if this artifact made me something different, something dangerous—would you stop me?" The words leapt out of his mouth before he could think better of it, a momentary weakness not meant for speaking.

She didn't look away. She squeezed his hand tighter. "If you turned into something you could not control." she said, and there was something like reluctance in her voice. "I would stop you. But I hope it never happens, Kiaran."

There was another silence, heavy with knowing, a threat both reassuring and foreboding. She'd stop him if she had to, and he would be grateful for it.

And so, as dawn crept through the cracks in his window, Kiaran was left alone with the relic's whispers and the choices that lay ahead. He would need to tread carefully, balancing his power and his humanity. The guild was growing wary, and Sable's words haunted him with their unsettling truth. To wield the relic fully, he might need to sever everything that tethered him to his former self.

But in the dim illumination, he had found a fragment of determination. He would find a way, a path that neither required strength nor humanity to sacrifice. As long as he could fight the relic's hold on him, he'd continue his fight to protect whom he cares for, even if that means standing against the guild themselves.

Kiaran's grip on his sword tightened, a grim smile spreading across his lips. Let them plot,

let them whisper. He'd make his own road, cost whatever it be.