The road ahead was endless.
Vael walked through the ruins, his steps slow, heavy. The night stretched on, cold and silent, but the whispers in his mind never stopped. They curled around his thoughts, creeping into every corner of his soul.
Stronger. You will be stronger.
His hands were still covered in blood—warm, sticky, real. The soldiers had died too easily. Too fast. Their faces were already fading from his memory. He barely remembered their screams.
He barely cared.
His grip tightened. The crown had taken hold of him, and he could feel it digging deeper. He should have been afraid. He should have been disgusted. But the only thing he felt was… nothing.
The wind howled through the trees, carrying the stench of death. In the distance, beyond the blackened remains of Black Hollow, shadows stretched along the dirt road. More soldiers? No. Something else.
Then he saw them.
Bodies.
Dozens of them, piled like discarded meat. Some still clutched their weapons. Others had been torn apart, their faces twisted in terror. A massacre. But not by his hand.
Vael stepped closer, his heart unnaturally calm. Whoever did this… they were still near.
A sound.
Low. Guttural.
His head snapped to the side. From the trees, something moved. Slow, deliberate. A figure stepped forward, wrapped in dark, tattered robes. Their face was hidden beneath a hood, but Vael could see their eyes—glowing like embers in the dark.
Not human.
The figure tilted its head, studying him. Then, it spoke.
"You wear the crown."
Its voice was strange, layered, as if more than one thing was speaking at once. Vael didn't respond. His fingers curled, the shadows stirring at his feet.
The figure took another step.
"The power you carry… it is old. And it is hungry." A pause. "But you already know that, don't you?"
The whispers in Vael's mind grew sharper, twisting around the stranger's words. He didn't trust them. But something about their presence made his skin crawl.
"Who are you?" Vael asked. His voice was different now—colder, distant. Not his own.
The figure chuckled, a dry, hollow sound.
"A servant," they said. "Like you."
Vael's grip tightened. He didn't like the way they said that. Like they knew something he didn't.
The figure turned, their robes shifting like liquid shadow. "Walk further, and you will understand."
Then, without another word, they vanished into the trees, swallowed by the darkness.
Vael stood still, the wind biting against his skin.
The whispers were louder now, urging him forward.
He took a step.
There was no turning back.