The echo of the watcher's words clung to Aric long after the shadow dissolved into nothingness.
A reflection of what you will become.
The phrase was a curse, burrowing into his thoughts as he walked back through the tunnels toward the flicker of firelight. Every step felt heavier, like the sorrow within him had multiplied. By the time the camp came into view, his jaw was locked tight, his knuckles white around the hilt of his blade.
The resistance was quieter now. Many had collapsed into uneasy rest, their armor half-removed, weapons laid close at hand. Even in slumber, their faces twitched with the nightmares the world now offered. Survivors slept light. A scrape of stone, a wrong breath in the dark, and every eye would snap open.
As Aric stepped into the fire's glow, several did just that. Heads turned. Conversations died. The whispers started again.
"That's him.""The one who cut through the Shades.""Look at his eyes. Something's wrong with him."
Aric ignored them, lowering himself onto a stone near the flames. He kept his face blank, though his pulse still thundered in his ears. Lyra slid closer, her voice low enough only he could hear.
"You were gone too long," she murmured.
"Needed air," Aric replied, eyes fixed on the fire.
Her gaze lingered, searching him, but she didn't press. She was smart enough to know when his walls were up.
A hand clamped down on Aric's shoulder. Reflexively, he almost reached for his sword—but stopped when he saw Kael standing there, the older fighter's scarred face twisted into something between suspicion and disdain.
"You fight like a demon," Kael said flatly.
The words weren't an accusation shouted to the crowd—it was worse. A knife whispered against the ribs, subtle and intimate.
Aric met his stare. "And yet you're alive because of it."
Kael's lip curled. "For now." He leaned closer. "I've seen men like you before. Power that comes from the wrong place always asks for payment. And when it comes due, it's never just you who pays."
Aric held his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Then stay out of my way when the next attack comes."
Kael's eyes narrowed, but he pulled back without another word. He stalked toward his corner of the cavern, muttering to two other soldiers who had been watching. Their eyes flicked toward Aric like blades.
Lyra whispered, "He's not going to stop."
"I know."
By dawn—though in these caves, dawn was just a word—the camp was stirring again. Darius stood before the gathered resistance, his voice steady as he laid out their grim reality.
"The Shades found us once. They'll find us again. We move at nightfall. The tunnels north may lead us closer to the old citadel. If the maps aren't lies, we can fortify there."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one argued. They were too used to following orders, or too tired to fight them.
Then Darius's gaze swept the group and landed on Aric. "When the time comes, we'll need your strength again."
The way he said it—matter-of-fact, like a weapon being claimed—made Aric's stomach twist.
Lyra leaned in. "They don't just tolerate you anymore. They're planning around you."
Aric's jaw clenched. "Which means if they learn what I really am, it won't just be suspicion. It'll be betrayal."
Lyra didn't argue. She didn't have to.
The day passed in restless silence. Some soldiers sharpened blades that would do little against demons. Others patched armor with scraps of leather. Aric sat apart, trying to steady the storm inside him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those glowing eyes in the dark, heard the watcher's rasp.
A reflection of what you will become.
He couldn't decide which was worse—that it was right, or that it might not be.
As the group began packing for their march, Aric slipped away into a smaller passage, needing a moment's peace. The cavern there was empty, save for a trickle of water that echoed like a heartbeat.
He pulled up the system screen only he could see.
[Sorrow System Active]Current Rank: InitiateCollected Sorrow: 342 unitsNext Threshold: 500 units
The numbers were climbing faster now. The Shades' deaths had swelled his reservoir, the sorrow of their dissolution feeding into him like oil into flame.
But the system was never satisfied.
Feed. Grow. Become.
The words weren't even part of the interface—just whispers that came with staring too long.
Aric shut it down with a sharp breath. "Not yet," he muttered. "Not like this."
"Not like what?"
He spun. Lyra stood in the mouth of the cavern, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"You're hiding something," she said quietly.
Aric's pulse quickened. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
She stepped closer. "You don't have to tell me now. But know this—secrets don't stay buried long in places like this. And if the wrong person digs them up…" Her eyes flicked toward the sound of Kael's distant voice. "…it won't end well."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Lyra turned and walked away, leaving Aric alone with the dripping water and the suffocating weight of his system.
Nightfall came. The resistance packed up their meager belongings and slipped into the northern tunnels. The air grew colder with every step, the stone walls slick with moisture.
They moved in silence, broken only by the shuffle of boots and the occasional cough. Aric kept near the back, watching shadows shift in the corners of his vision.
Hours passed before they reached a cavern larger than the rest. Faint shafts of moonlight cut through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the broken remnants of an ancient stone structure—pillars toppled, walls cracked, carvings eroded by time.
Darius raised a hand. "We rest here. Two hours."
As the group began settling, Aric drifted toward one of the shattered pillars. His hand brushed the stone, feeling grooves where inscriptions had once been. He didn't recognize the language, but something in the markings made his sorrow stir uneasily.
Behind him, footsteps approached. He turned—and froze.
The watcher stood at the edge of the moonlight.
The same hood. The same smoke-wreathed form. But this time, others saw it too. A soldier gasped, fumbling for his weapon.
"Shade!" someone shouted.
"No," Aric breathed, stepping forward. "Not a Shade."
The figure tilted its head, those glowing eyes locking on him alone.
"You feel it, don't you?" it whispered, voice threading through the cavern. "The hunger. The sorrow calling you deeper."
Darius barked, "Form up! Weapons ready!"
The soldiers surrounded the figure, but it didn't move. Didn't even flinch.
Aric's pulse thundered. His hand shook on his sword. Because deep down, he knew what was true—
The thing wasn't attacking.It wasn't even here for the resistance.
It was here for him.