Lyrian’s body suddenly jerked violently, his limbs trembling as convulsions overtook him. His head snapped back against the chair with a sickening crack, his eyes wide, but vacant, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Blood trickled from his nose, and his entire form shook uncontrollably. His once calm defiance had shattered into a mess of pure agony.

“Lyrian!”

Kaelen’s mind raced in pure desperation as he watched his friend writhe in the chair. “Stay with me! Just hold on!”

The captors stood back, their faces blank, eyes cold as they watched the scene unfold. Kaelen’s heart pounded in his chest, fury overtaking his panic. “What the hell did you do to him?” he roared, thrashing against his bindings. “Stop it! Stop this now!”

Lyrian’s body convulsed again, harder this time, and his head snapped to the side, a guttural scream tearing from his throat. His voice was hoarse, filled with unbearable pain.

“K-Kaelen…”

That one word, uttered in a broken rasp, sent a sharp stab of panic through Kaelen. His vision blurred, his chest heaving.

“No, no, no—Lyrian, don’t you dare give up! You hear me?” He struggled harder, his own muscles burning, ignoring the ropes that cut deeper into his skin.

Lyrian’s body spasmed again, violently rocking the chair until it toppled over, sending him crashing to the floor. The sound of his body hitting the ground reverberated through the room, but it was drowned out by his anguished cry.

“Kaelen!”

The sound of his name, screamed in such raw, tortured desperation, ignited something deep within Kaelen. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, and suddenly, the room shifted.

At first, it was subtle—the sensation of the walls closing in, as though the very air around him had thickened. Kaelen’s breath caught, his surroundings growing distorted. He blinked hard, trying to focus, but the shadows around him seemed to ripple, moving in ways they shouldn’t have.

He fought to stay grounded, to anchor himself in reality, but it was slipping, the edges of his vision blurring as the room twisted unnaturally. The shadows danced at the corners of his eyes, flickering as if alive, creeping closer. His muscles tensed, every instinct telling him something was wrong, something was coming to grab him.

The voices around him turned into fragments, broken pieces of sentences he couldn’t fully grasp.

“...not… supposed…”

“...too soon… control…”

Kaelen shook his head, his thoughts spiraling. The room seemed to sway, tilting on its axis as the shadows grew, swallowing the space around him. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the scattered words. It felt like a trap, like something was dragging him down.

And then, clear and sharp, a voice—louder, more insistent than the others—boomed in his mind.

“Do it.”

Kaelen’s eyes widened, his pulse thundering in his veins.

“Sink into the shadows. Take what’s yours.”

The command was like a blade, cutting through the noise in his head. The room continued to twist, the shadows swirling around him, beckoning, pulling him toward something he didn’t fully understand but could no longer resist.

His breath came in shallow, rapid bursts. He tried to fight it, tried to hold on to whatever sliver of control he had left, but it was slipping, fast. The air felt thick, suffocating, and the shadows whispered louder, coiling like tendrils around him.

“Take it. It’s waiting for you. What you’ve always been meant to claim.”

“No!”

“Yes! “The shadows are yours. And you are ours.”

Kaelen snapped.

It was as if something inside him shattered, the tension he’d been holding onto finally breaking under the weight of the voices swirling in his mind. The air around him seemed to ripple, growing impossibly dense as the shadows coiled tighter, their dark tendrils curling toward him, hungry and alive.

“The shadows are yours. And you are ours.”

The words echoed again in his head, sharper now, filling his every thought, drowning out the desperate screams of his friend.

And then it happened.

The room erupted in chaos.

The sound of shattering glass cut through the cacophony of his mind—a sudden, sharp crash that seemed to split the world open. Kaelen blinked, his senses struggling to adjust, and through the haze of shadow, he saw the glass windows behind the captors splinter and explode inward.

Several of the captors, including the man with the scarred face, crumpled to the ground, their bodies motionless. Some lay with their necks twisted at unnatural angles, as though something had wrenched them violently, while others bled profusely from deep, precise cuts that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Blood pooled on the cold floor, thick and dark, glistening in the dim light.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Kaelen’s breath caught in his throat. The room had fallen into an eerie silence, the sounds of violence suddenly replaced by a deathly stillness. No one moved. Not a whisper, not a breath. It was as if time itself had paused, holding its breath in the aftermath of what had just occurred.

All except Lyrian.

Still bound to his chair, Lyrian convulsed with violent tremors, his face pale and glistening with sweat, but his eyes were wide, filled with horror. He blinked rapidly, his gaze fixed on the gruesome scene before him, but then shifted to Kaelen. His breathing came in shallow, uneven bursts, his lips parted as though he were about to speak, but no words came.

The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Pure terror.

But it wasn’t the sight of their fallen captors that horrified him. It was Kaelen.

Kaelen, still bound to his chair, could feel the air crackling with dark magic. His vision still blurred as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. He hadn’t moved a muscle, yet it felt as though the room had responded to something deep within him.

The shadows that had once lingered at the edges of his vision now seemed to pulse with a life of their own, weaving through the air like dark tendrils. They slithered across the cold floor, coiling around his feet like living serpents, and he realized with a start that they were not just in the room—they were on him.

A faint, eerie shimmer of shadow clung to his body, draping him like a second skin, barely visible but undeniable. The shadows twisted lazily around his legs, a strange and disturbing presence, and even more unsettling—they weren’t stopping there.

He looked over at Lyrian, whose body was still convulsing weakly on the ground. The same tendrils of shadow had begun to creep toward him, circling around his ankles, crawling upward. Kaelen’s breath caught in his throat, panic rising. He could feel the connection between himself and these shadows, could feel them feeding off something inside him—something dark, something primal.

“Kaelen…” Lyrian rasped, his voice hoarse, terrified. He stared at the encroaching shadows with wide eyes, trembling from both the serum and the horror of what was happening. “What is this…?”

Kaelen swallowed hard, his chest tight with fear, unable to answer. He didn’t know. But the shadows—they were his. He could feel it. They had always been his.

And now they wanted more.

"Magnificent," the taller man murmured, his voice dripping with twisted delight. He stepped forward, the dim light revealing a rough and uneven face with the left side marked by deep, twisted burn scars that distorted his features. His mouth was always curled into a sneer, as if he were perpetually unimpressed with the world around him.

"Truly a sight to behold. The rumors did not do you justice, Kaelen."

Kaelen's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of adrenaline and dread coursing through his veins. The shadows around him pulsed in response, mirroring the turmoil within. He narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to steady his breath. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice rough.

The man chuckled softly. "Names are unimportant. Consider me... an admirer."

The remaining captors, though visibly shaken, had begun to close in around him, forming a defensive circle. Their eyes darted nervously from the bodies of their fallen comrades to the twisting shadows at Kaelen’s feet. They were afraid—he could feel it. Even the tall man’s subordinates, who had stood so confidently just moments ago, were now hesitant, their hands twitching toward their weapons as if unsure whether to fight or flee.

But they stayed close, the fear of their leader’s wrath outweighing the terror that gripped them. Each step they took toward Kaelen was slow, deliberate, but their fear was palpable.

The captor’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, reveling in his discomfort. “They’re scared of you, you know. They should be.”

Kaelen could feel the shadows coiling tighter, sensing the fear that radiated from the mercenaries surrounding him. It wasn’t just an abstract feeling anymore. It was something tangible, crawling beneath his skin, thick in the air, and sharp on his tongue. The fear was so potent he could taste it, bitter and acrid like bile rising in his throat. The shadows fed on it, growing darker, denser, like living things that thrived on the terror they inspired.

"We've been watching you for some time," the man continued, his gaze never leaving Kaelen.

"Waiting for this very moment. To see the Veilborne awaken." His eyes flickered with a dangerous excitement.

"And you did not disappoint."

Kaelen's blood ran cold at the word—Veilborne. It was a term whispered in legends, tales of those touched by the very fabric between worlds, wielders of shadow and void. He had heard the stories but never imagined they could be connected to him. "You're insane," he spat, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his denial.

"Am I?" The man tilted his head, amused. "Tell me, does this feel like madness?" He extended his hand, gesturing toward the lifeless bodies of the soldiers, their blood pooling on the ground. "You did this, Kaelen."

Kaelen stared at the macabre scene before him, his heart racing as denial clawed at his throat.

“No... I didn't...” His voice faltered, thick with desperation as he tried to convince himself more than anyone else that he hadn’t been the one responsible for the carnage.

In response to his inner turmoil, the shadows around Kaelen surged violently, twisting and writhing as if feeding off his fear. They coiled tighter around him like a nest of serpents, their dark tendrils suffocating. Kaelen gasped, struggling against the invisible bonds as the weight of the accusation pressed down harder, threatening to drown him.

"Stop it!" Lyrian's strained voice broke through, raw with pain and desperation. He was still on the ground, eyes wide as he watched the scene unfold.

"Leave him alone!"

The man spared Lyrian a brief, dismissive glance. "Ah, the loyal friend. You’ve served your purpose." He looked back at Kaelen. "It's fascinating how strong your abilities are, even untamed. With guidance, imagine what you could achieve."

Kaelen clenched his teeth, fighting against both the physical restraints and the encroaching darkness that threatened to consume him. “I don’t know if you’re just insane or stupid enough to believe that I’d ever play your game.”

The man's grin widened.

"Oh, but you already do. This display proves it."

The kidnappers shifted uneasily, their circle tightening as they sensed the growing tension. Despite their weapons, their fear of Kaelen—and perhaps even of the man leading them—was evident. Sweat trickled down their temples, knuckles white as they gripped their guns.

Kaelen met the man's gaze with defiance. "I'd rather die than help you."

"Death?" The man laughed, a hollow sound that echoed unnaturally. "Death is irrelevant. Power is all that matters. And you have so much potential."

His eyes gleamed.

"But perhaps you need... motivation."

He snapped his fingers, and one of the kidnappers moved swiftly toward Lyrian, yanking him to his knees. A blade glinted in the low light, pressed dangerously against Lyrian's throat.

"No!"

"Yes," the man hissed. “Leave with me willingly, or watch your friend bleed out before you. The choice is yours.”

Lyrian's eyes locked onto Kaelen's, a mixture of fear and resignation. "Don't... do it.”

Kaelen's mind raced, desperation clawing at him. The shadows around him trembled, responding to his turmoil.

"Tick-tock," the man taunted, his voice sing-song. "Decide, Kaelen. I’m a busy man, you know."

The kidnappers pressed closer, forming a barrier between Kaelen and any hope of escape. Their fear made them unpredictable, but their loyalty kept them in place.

“Charge!”

A deafening explosion rocked the building, shaking its very foundation. In a second, screams pierced the air as weapons clattered to the ground. A heartbeat later, the door was slammed against the wall with a force that echoed through the room.

“Let’s finish this.”

Commander Andras stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury.