The night air had grown colder, each breath Elian took feeling like a shard of ice piercing his lungs. The stone structure loomed ahead, its silhouette dark against the backdrop of the moonless sky. The valley seemed to hold its breath, as if the earth itself was watching them—waiting for them to make their move.
Maren stayed close, her eyes darting between the foreboding structure and the surrounding shadows. Elian could sense her unease, though she tried to mask it with the steady rhythm of her steps. It was impossible not to feel the weight of what lay ahead. The map had led them here, but it wasn't just the Council they had come to find—it was the truth. And truth had a price.
As they reached the entrance of the stone building, a heavy door, forged of iron and bound in dark leather, creaked open before them. Elian froze. No one had touched the door, yet it had opened of its own accord, as if something—or someone—had been expecting them.
"Elian," Maren whispered, her voice strained with tension. "What is this place? Why does it feel like we're walking into a trap?"
He didn't answer immediately. The words he could say wouldn't ease her fear, not when his own heart was pounding with the knowledge that they were stepping into the unknown. The Council had always been shrouded in mystery, a force that operated in the shadows, influencing the world in ways the common folk never knew. But now, Elian felt the truth of their power—a truth that could tear them apart.
With a deep breath, Elian stepped forward, the cool air brushing against his skin. "It's the only way forward," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos raging within him. "We have to face them if we want answers. And if we want to end this."
Maren hesitated for a moment longer before following him inside. The door slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud, cutting off any chance of retreat. The hallway ahead was long and narrow, the walls lined with torches that flickered with unnatural flame. The air smelled of old stone and forgotten secrets, a scent that seemed to wrap itself around Elian's mind, whispering to him.
They moved cautiously, each step echoing in the silence that surrounded them. The further they walked, the darker it became. The torches dimmed, their light growing feeble as though the very heart of the place was sucking the warmth out of the air. The walls were covered in cryptic symbols, some familiar and others foreign, but all carrying a sense of ancient power.
"Elian," Maren called out softly, her voice trembling. "Do you see that?"
He turned toward her, his eyes narrowing as he followed her gaze. At the end of the corridor, a door stood ajar, light spilling from the cracks around it. But it wasn't the light that caught Elian's attention—it was the sound.
A low hum vibrated through the air, almost like a chant, but too distant and distorted to make sense of. The closer they got, the stronger the hum became, as if something or someone was calling to them from beyond that door.
"What is that sound?" Maren whispered, her hand gripping Elian's arm.
"I don't know," he answered, his voice grim. "But we need to find out."
They approached the door with caution, the tension rising with each step. Elian's heart pounded, his instincts screaming at him to turn back, to flee before whatever lay beyond could consume them. But there was no turning back now.
The door creaked open, revealing a vast chamber bathed in a pale, eerie light. At its center stood a long table, surrounded by high-backed chairs, each one occupied by a figure cloaked in shadow. The figures didn't move as they entered, their faces obscured by the hoods of their dark robes.
"Elian…" Maren's voice was barely a whisper, her hand tightening around his. "These… these are the Council."
Elian nodded, his throat dry. He could feel the weight of their gaze, even though their faces were hidden. The air in the room was thick with power, with centuries of influence, betrayal, and bloodshed. These were the ones who had pulled the strings from the shadows, the ones who had shaped the world in their image.
And now, they were waiting for him.
A voice broke the silence, low and commanding. "You have come far, Elian. But do you understand the price you must pay for seeking the truth?"
Elian stiffened, his pulse quickening. The voice came from the far end of the table, where the figure in the darkest robe sat, their face still hidden in shadow. But Elian could feel their presence, an oppressive force that made the air feel heavier, colder.
"I'm here for answers," Elian said, his voice firm. "I'm not afraid of your games."
A laugh echoed through the chamber, dry and rasping, as if the figure was amused by Elian's words. "Afraid? No, you are not afraid. But you will be. Soon enough, you will wish you never sought the truth."
The voice fell silent, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the hum of the dark energy that seemed to seep from the walls themselves.
Maren squeezed Elian's hand, her fear palpable. "What do they want from us, Elian?"
Elian didn't answer immediately. He was trying to keep his mind steady, to focus on the task at hand. But the words of the Council were beginning to gnaw at him. The price for truth. It echoed in his ears, a reminder of everything he had already sacrificed to get this far.
Another figure stood, their chair creaking as they did so. The figure was taller than the rest, their presence commanding, their voice deep and resonant. "Elian, son of the fallen king, you've come seeking the truth, but have you considered what you will lose in the process? The Council does not give freely. It takes as much as it gives."
Elian's fists clenched at his sides. The walls around him felt as though they were closing in. He had already given so much, but the price had not been clear—until now.
"I didn't come here to bargain," Elian said, his voice strong. "I came to end this. End the suffering, end the lies. I won't be your pawn anymore."
There was a long silence. Then, the figure in the shadows spoke again, their voice colder than before. "You have no choice. You are already ours. The Devil's Mark is upon you. The deal has been made."
The room seemed to shift, the shadows growing longer, the light dimming as the truth hit Elian like a hammer. His heart sank, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
The Devil's Mark. The bargain he had made—unwittingly, unknowingly. He had been marked from the very beginning, his fate sealed long before he ever stepped foot into this cursed place.
And now, there was no escaping it.
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