Kael lay sprawled in the darkness of his chamber, drenched in cold sweat. His body still burned from the pact, every vein seared with fire, every breath a struggle between agony and ecstasy.
Then—
His eyes snapped open.
They glowed faintly, a sickly crimson-black.
The shadows of the room stirred, bending unnaturally toward him. His once steady qi now pulsed with something alien, sharper, hungrier. It didn't flow like water—it tore like claws.
Kael's trembling hand clenched into a fist, and the stone beneath it cracked as though it were clay.
A slow, savage grin stretched across his lips.
"Yes… this is what I was denied. Power. True power."
---
The Mirror
He staggered to a bronze mirror, his reflection half-swallowed by the flickering torchlight.
The man who stared back was no longer just Kael. His skin carried faint black markings like veins of shadow beneath the flesh. His aura leaked like poison, seeping into the air.
He should've recoiled. But instead, pride swelled.
"Let them whisper of Arhaan," Kael growled. "Let them kneel before his chains. Soon… they will kneel before me instead."
The mirror cracked as his aura pulsed.
---
The Hidden Corruption
But deep inside, beneath the euphoria of power, something else stirred. A whisper not his own, coiling around his thoughts like smoke.
Feed me… fight him… break the chains…
Kael froze. His grin faltered for a moment. But then pride drowned out doubt.
"I will," he hissed. "And when I crush him, the sect will remember my name, not his."
The whisper chuckled, pleased.