They left the Vale before nightfall, though the memory of it clung to Aric like cold mist. The Elders had faded into the stone circle, swallowed by a silence too ancient for words. As he and Selene walked away, the forest seemed to breathe around them—alive, watching, remembering. Aric didn't look back.
They moved in silence. There was too much between them now—things neither of them could explain nor change. Selene kept her hand on the hilt of her blade, her eyes scanning the shadows. Aric could feel her unease. He shared it.
Since accepting the curse, something inside him had shifted. It wasn't just a feeling—it was a presence. A subtle, crawling awareness under his skin. Like a whisper threading itself through his bloodstream, teasing the edges of his thoughts.
That night, when they made camp beneath a rocky overhang and a thin veil of stars, sleep did not come.
Aric sat at the edge of the firelight, staring into the flames, fingers twitching in the dirt. He could feel it—coiling, pulsing, something hungry just beneath his skin. Every time his eyes closed, he saw faces. Shadows. Memories he didn't recognize.
"Selene," he said finally, voice low.
She looked up from her seat across the fire, eyes sharp in the glow.
"What happens if I lose control?"
She stared at him for a long moment, the fire crackling between them. Then she stood and walked over, crouching beside him.
"Then I do what I have to," she said softly. "Even if it means stopping you."
Aric didn't flinch. He appreciated the honesty. Lies would've made it worse.
"I don't want to become a monster," he muttered.
"You already are," said a voice behind them.
Both of them shot to their feet, blades drawn. A figure stepped into the light, unhurried, as if he had been watching them for some time.
He was tall and wiry, dressed in a patchwork of faded armor and travel-worn robes. His hair was silver, though he looked no older than thirty, and his eyes—his eyes burned like molten iron.
"I'm not your enemy," he said, raising his hands. "If I were, you'd be dead already."
"Who are you?" Selene demanded, blade still raised.
"Call me Kael," the man said. "I've been following your trail since the Vale. The Elders were wrong to let you go without protection."
Selene stepped forward, blade against his chest. "You're one of them?"
Kael smirked. "Once. A long time ago. I left when I realized wisdom didn't mean silence."
Aric narrowed his eyes. "You know about the curse."
Kael nodded. "More than you do."
The fire crackled louder, as if it, too, leaned in to listen.
Kael knelt and stirred the flames with a stick. "You feel it now, don't you? The pressure. The hunger. Like a shadow with teeth. That's not your imagination. It's the thing inside you waking up."
Aric clenched his fists. "Then teach me how to control it."
Kael's smile vanished. "You don't control it. You negotiate with it. You learn its voice. You feed it when you must. You chain it when you can. But you'll never truly be free of it."
"Then what's the point?"
Kael's gaze met his. "The point is survival. The point is using it before it uses you."
Selene finally lowered her sword, though her stance remained tense. "Why are you helping us?"
"Because," Kael said, "I've seen what happens when one like you loses control. I've seen entire cities swallowed in black flame. You think the curse is rare?" He leaned closer, eyes darkening. "There are others. Not all of them choose to fight it."
Aric's blood ran cold. "Others... like me?"
Kael nodded. "And one of them is hunting you."
Silence fell like a stone.
Selene took a step forward. "Who?"
Kael turned his gaze to the forest beyond. "He was once called Eryndor. The first cursed. He embraced it completely. Became something... else. The Elders thought they sealed him away, but that was a lie. He walks the world now, gathering others like you, promising them power if they give in."
Aric's pulse pounded. "Why me?"
"Because you're still a choice. Not yet his. And that makes you dangerous."
The fire popped, casting shadows across Kael's face. Aric could see something in his eyes—something old, broken, maybe even afraid.
"Then what do we do?" Aric asked.
Kael looked at him like a man who had stared into the abyss and remembered its name.
"We train," he said. "We find others who haven't turned. And we prepare. Because whether you like it or not, Aric... war is coming. A war between those cursed by fate—and those who would use it to burn the world clean.