The sun had barely risen when the next visitor came — not with the sharp purpose of Seraphiel, but like a storm rolling in over a jagged ridge. The air grew heavier, sour with sulfur and iron, as if blood and ash had been ground into the morning wind.
Sid had barely slept. His arm, now laced with golden veins, throbbed with renewed tension from the previous day's training. He sat staring at it, half in pain, half in thought, until a low, rumbling voice broke the silence.
"Still licking the goddess's wound?"
Sid turned sharply.
At the doorway stood a figure carved from bone and muscle alike — tall, broad-shouldered, his skin a deep, scarred gray, marked with jagged tattoos that pulsed with dark heat. His eyes were yellow with vertical pupils like a beast's, and his teeth, sharp and uneven, glinted under a crooked grin.
"This is Varas the Broken Fang," growled Nox's assistant, standing in the hallway briefly before retreating. "He will teach you how to survive, if not master the flames."
Varas stepped into the room without invitation, as if the space belonged to him. He crouched beside Sid's bed, his large hands inspecting the burning scar with curious detachment rather than alarm.
"Ahhh," Varas chuckled, teeth clicking softly. "So the boy's bleeding godlight and demonfire. I'd say this wound will either make you legendary… or dead before your next meal."
Sid's eyes narrowed.
"Are you here to help me… or break me?" Sid spat.
Varas's grin widened, as if the question amused him more than it should have. He leaned close, his breath hot and sharp with herbs and something feral.
"I'm here to teach you how to live long enough to break yourself on your own terms."
Sid's fists clenched but he held his ground.
"Training starts now," Varas rasped, his voice low and gravelly. "We'll begin by unlearning what the gods drilled into you."
Without waiting for permission, Varas gripped Sid's wrist and pressed his thumb into the burning scar. The dark veins flared instantly, writhing like snakes disturbed. Sid recoiled but Varas's grip only tightened.
"Feel that?" Varas barked. "Good! That's life clawing to escape! That's flame trying to own you! If you want to survive, you stop flinching."
Sid gasped but forced himself to breathe steadily.
Varas pulled a small, bone-carved blade from his belt and scratched a shallow line beside the scar, dark blood oozing instantly. He smeared it with ash from a nearby brazier until it spread like soot.
"This," Varas growled, "is Hollow ash. It numbs the mind but sharpens the senses. You'll learn to feel it and feed it without letting it consume you."
Sid's eyes widened. "You're trying to… poison me?"
Varas's eyes burned like coals. "No. I'm trying to teach you what's already inside you. The flame you fear isn't foreign. It's your blood screaming. Better to learn how to ride it than drown in it."
Sid's heart thudded wildly. His mind screamed to recoil, but somewhere deep inside, he felt a curious pull toward the pain.
The first exercise was brutal. Varas forced him to stand for hours with the ash mixture spread over his scar, the skin cracking and blackening as heat surged and withdrew in waves. Each time the scar screamed, Varas barked commands — slow breathing, grounding thoughts, channeling the sensation rather than resisting it.
"Let it flow," he ordered. "Do not fight it."
Sid fell, stumbled, and nearly screamed countless times, but each time he obeyed, pressing his awareness into the heat rather than away from it.
When dusk fell, Varas thrust a bone staff into his hand.
"Tomorrow we start with pain," Varas snarled. "Tonight you learn that pain is not the enemy. It's the door."
Sid's jaw tightened, but a spark lit behind his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was rage, pride, or something darker — but it was alive.
That night, as the firelight danced across the walls, Sid lay awake once more. The scar pulsed with twin patterns — golden and black — like twin hearts struggling to beat together.
A voice whispered in the dark, low and seductive:
"Bend. Burn. Become…"
Sid clenched his fists. "I'll make it mine," he growled under his breath.
Outside, the wind howled like a beast prowling at the edge of the firelight, waiting for the next lesson.