The forest wind howled like a beast, carrying whispers that did not belong to this world. The cloaked figure raised one hand, and the shadows seemed to bend unnaturally toward him.
Kael felt the air tighten, his body instinctively recoiling. But pride anchored his feet in place.
"Who… are you?" he demanded.
The figure tilted its head. For a heartbeat, the cloak slipped—revealing not flesh, but something darker. Eyes burning like coals, veins pulsing with black fire.
"I am no one the sect would welcome," the voice rasped, layered with tones not entirely human.
"But you… your rage sings to me. The heavens despise the boy, and so do I. Our purposes align."
---
A Forbidden Pact
The figure stretched out a hand, long and clawed. Dark mist spilled from its sleeve, writhing like living smoke.
"Swear yourself to me, Kael. In exchange, I will grant you fangs sharp enough to tear through his chains."
Kael's breath came fast. He knew this was no path a disciple should take. The sect taught discipline, purity, devotion to the Dao. But what had those rules brought him? Humiliation.
His pride burned hotter than fear.
"If this power will let me crush him… then it's mine."
He grasped the shadowed hand.
Pain erupted instantly—fire that clawed through his veins, shredding his meridians, filling him with a power colder than death. His scream tore through the trees as the pact seared itself into his soul.
The figure's laugh echoed like thunder.
"Good… very good. From this night forward, you are mine."
---
The Eyes Above
Far away, high within the sect's central spire, the Grand Elder stirred suddenly from meditation. His ancient eyes opened, flashing with alarm.
"Something stirs in the shadows…" he whispered.
"…something not of this world."
And though he spoke to no one, a faint ripple spread across the heavens themselves, as if the stars had just taken notice.