The return to Varian's camp was much less dramatic than Harris had hoped—or perhaps feared. The clearing where Varian had set up his elaborate tent was quiet, the only sound being the soft crackle of a fire and the occasional shuffle of Varian's attendants. The smell of smoke mingled with the damp earth, and the flickering firelight cast long shadows across the clearing. The air was cold, and Harris felt a shiver run down his spine as he glanced sideways at Liam, who looked tired but determined, then back at Varian, who was lounging near the fire, his face illuminated by the dancing flames.

"Ah, Harris, you old devil," Varian greeted, his lips curling into a sharp grin. "I knew you would come back successful. The great Malakar never fails." He rose from his seat, his eyes flicking to Liam with a dismissive smirk before returning to Harris, the artifact clutched in Harris's hand immediately catching his attention. "And I see you've brought my request."

Harris suppressed an annoyed sigh, forcing himself to step forward. "Don't start with the theatrics, Varian. I've had enough dramatics for one evening. Now, tell me what exactly this thing is, and no more of your half-truths." He held out the artifact, its dark crystal surface glinting ominously in the firelight.

Varian's eyes gleamed with something that Harris recognized all too well—ambition, a hunger for power that bordered on obsession. He gestured for Harris to sit, his voice dropping into a smooth, almost conspiratorial tone. "You see, Harris, this isn't just some trinket. It's called the Obsidian Eye, forged by the ancient Arcanists to draw from the ley lines—it's pure power. The kind that could make a man… or perhaps a certain former dark lord… untouchable."

Harris gave a sardonic laugh, his brow arching. "Untouchable, huh? Sounds like a fancy way to say 'highly flammable.' You don't seem to understand my new goals involve fewer fiery confrontations, not more." He leaned back, studying Varian's expression, the way his eyes flickered over the artifact, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes. Harris had seen that expression before, many times, in the mirror. It was the look of someone who believed power was the only answer, who saw the world as a place to be conquered rather than understood.

The fire crackled, and Harris could feel the weight of the artifact in his hand. It was cold, almost unnaturally so, and seemed to pulse faintly against his palm. He tried to ignore the sensation, but it was like the Obsidian Eye had a will of its own, whispering in the dark corners of his mind.

"Oh, don't be so modest," Varian cooed, leaning closer. "Think of it, Harris. The power to protect the village—no, the entire realm. No one would dare stand against you. The Hooded Figure, Atwood, anyone else who poses a threat… gone with a flick of your fingers." His voice dropped lower, each word dripping with temptation. "You could be more than some gardener hiding in the woods. You could be the hero they need."

Harris clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the cold, smooth surface of the Obsidian Eye. He could feel the hum of energy beneath his palm, a whisper in the back of his mind, promising strength, control, and safety. All things that, once upon a time, he had craved more than anything. The memories of those days came flooding back—the rush of power, the fear in the eyes of those who opposed him, the sense of invincibility. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the cold weight of the artifact, grounding him in the present moment. But it was also that craving that had turned him into the monster he once was. He forced himself to focus, to breathe, to remember why he had left that life behind.

Liam shifted beside him, his expression tense, eyes fixed on Harris. The younger man seemed almost to be holding his breath. "He's playing you, Harris," Liam said, his voice edged with a mix of fear and determination. "You said it yourself. Power like that—it comes at a cost. You've done fine without it. Better than fine." He shot Varian a glare, his eyes narrowing. "We don't need this. You don't need this."

Varian scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please, boy. The world isn't sunshine and daisies. Sometimes, you need power to make a difference."

"Sometimes, you need to stop making excuses to be a tyrant," Liam shot back, his voice stronger than Harris had ever heard it. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his body tense. "Harris isn't that person anymore. He doesn't need to—"

"Enough," Harris snapped, his voice sharp. The words hung in the air, and for a moment, even the fire seemed to quiet. The fire popped loudly, a log shifting and sending a flurry of sparks up into the night sky. He looked at Liam, then Varian, then finally down at the Obsidian Eye in his hand. The weight of it, the temptation of it—he could feel it in his bones. The offer was so simple. Just one step… one little step back into the abyss he had crawled out of.

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The silence stretched on, the tension in the clearing almost unbearable. Harris could hear the crackling of the fire, the rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze, and even the faint breathing of Varian's attendants, who had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold. It felt like the entire world had paused, waiting for his decision.

The whispers grew louder, memories of his past mingling with the possibilities of what the Obsidian Eye could bring. The power to protect, to never feel helpless again. He could almost see the faces of the villagers, of Martha, of Liam—he could protect them all, be the hero they needed. But he also saw the faces of those he had hurt, the destruction he had wrought in his past, the hollow fear in people's eyes. It was a knife's edge, the choice before him.

"I…" Harris's voice trailed off, his gaze fixed on the dark crystal. He could feel both sets of eyes on him—Liam's pleading, Varian's expectant. Everything hung on this choice, and he wasn't sure if he trusted himself to make the right one. He could almost hear the whispers of his past, urging him to take the power, to be the person who could make things right with sheer force. But he also heard the voices of those he had hurt, the cries of those who had suffered under his rule.

Finally, he looked up, meeting Varian's eyes, his own expression unreadable. "I'm going to need some time to think about this," he said, his voice steady, though his heart was pounding. "I'm not making any promises, Varian. Not until I know exactly what this thing is capable of. And not until I know it won't turn me into the very thing I hate."

Varian's grin widened as if he had expected no less. "Of course, old friend. Take all the time you need. But remember, power waits for no one. If you hesitate too long, you may find yourself regretting it."

Harris nodded, slipping the Obsidian Eye into his coat pocket, the cold weight a constant reminder of what was at stake. He turned to Liam, nodding towards the edge of the camp. "Let's go."

Liam hesitated, his gaze lingering on Varian for a moment before he followed Harris. They walked away from the fire, the light fading as they moved deeper into the forest. The silence stretched between them until Liam finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "You can't be seriously considering it, can you?"

Harris sighed, running a hand through his hair, the tension weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I don't know, Liam. I really don't. But whatever I decide… I'm doing it for the village. For you."

Liam shook his head, his eyes filled with worry. "Just… promise me you won't go back to being him."

Harris looked at his young friend, his heart aching with the weight of that promise. The fear in Liam's eyes was clear, and Harris knew it was justified. "I'll do my best," he said quietly. "One step at a time, remember?"

Liam nodded, though the fear in his eyes remained. "One step at a time." They continued walking, the darkness of the forest closing in around them, the Obsidian Eye pulsing coldly against Harris's chest—a silent reminder of the choice yet to come.

The forest seemed to press in on them, the trees tall and imposing, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the night sky. The path was narrow, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the leaves. Harris could feel the weight of the artifact like a leaden stone, each step he took was a reminder of the burden he now carried. He knew Varian's words would haunt him, replaying in his mind like an echo. The promise of power, the allure of being able to protect those he cared about—it was intoxicating. And dangerous.

Liam walked beside him, his eyes darting around as if expecting danger to leap from the shadows at any moment. The younger man was quiet, but Harris could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were hunched, his hands clenched into fists. He was scared—not just of the forest, but of what Harris might decide. Harris knew that fear, knew it intimately. It was the fear of losing someone you cared about to something darker than yourself.

"You know," Harris said after a while, his voice breaking the silence, "I never thought I'd be here. Not just in this forest, but… here. Trying to do the right thing. It's strange."

Liam glanced at him, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Harris shrugged, his gaze distant. "I spent so long being the villain, Liam. It was easier, in a way. You don't have to worry about right or wrong when you're the one everyone fears. You just… do what you want. But this? Trying to be better? It's harder. And this thing…" He patted his coat where the Obsidian Eye rested. "This thing makes it even harder."

Liam was silent for a moment, then he spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Maybe that's why it's worth it. Because it's hard. Because you have to fight for it."

Harris looked at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You sound like Martha. Always telling me to be better."

Liam smiled back, though it was tinged with worry. "She's right, you know. You are better. You just need to believe it."

Harris sighed, his gaze drifting back to the darkened path ahead. "Believing it is the hardest part, kid." The forest around them seemed to grow darker, the shadows deepening, and Harris felt the chill in the air as they moved further away from Varian's camp. The weight of his choices, the uncertainty of what lay ahead—it all pressed down on him, making each step feel heavier than the last.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a night bird. Harris knew that the decision he had to make wasn't just about the artifact. It was about who he wanted to be, about whether he could truly leave Malakar behind and become someone worthy of the trust Liam and the others had placed in him. One step at a time, he reminded himself. One step at a time.