— The Jaw of the Pact —
My hand stung. Blood slicked the glass shard. I pressed it to the rune, but it just pulsed, hungry, not satisfied.
— What does it want? I mouthed. No sound. Only pain.
The silhouette leaned closer. Breath sharp, cloak brushing my shoulder.
— Not blood. Not memory. It wants something else, this one. Something deeper.
I stared at the rune. Black lines twisted, forming words I almost remembered.
Behind us, the porters shouted. Boots hammered. The door behind rattled.
— You took his fear, the silhouette whispered. The Trace remembers.
The rune burned in my palm. The Trace hissed in my head.
*Give. Or we stay here. Let me share. Let me spill.*
My voice was gone. My hand trembled.
— I can't. I've given too much.
The silhouette's eyes caught the faint rune-light.
— You must. The Trace can be split. Once. But the cost is worse than memory.
*I will show you*, the Trace purred.
A vision twisted behind my eyes: another hand, marked, reaching into mine. Our pain mingling. Our debts tangled.
The porters' fists pounded the door.
— Choose, the silhouette said. Share the Trace, or let them take it all.
My mouth filled with iron. I pressed the glass to my palm again. The rune pulsed with greed.
— If I share—what do I lose?
The silhouette's voice dropped.
— Everything you still fear. Your name. Your last true self.
The Trace pressed at my bones.
*Just a sliver. I will keep you hollow, but alive.*
I looked at the silhouette. Their outline flickered in the rune-glow.
— Will you take it? I mouthed.
They shook their head, stepping back.
— Not me. Not now.
The door behind cracked. A porter's hand forced through, bloodied, grasping.
I pressed the shard to the rune. I pushed the Trace outward, splitting it, feeling the cost rip through my mind.
A scream, silent, tore from my lips. Cold emptiness rushed in. My own fear twisted away, yanked into the rune, into the other hand reaching through.
The porter convulsed. His eyes rolled white. My pain echoed in his bones.
The rune flared open. I staggered through, breath ragged, hand numb.
— Run, the silhouette hissed.
We bolted down a tight, crumbling corridor. The Trace rattled inside me, smaller now, but sharp.
— You let it out, the silhouette said, voice shaking. You know what that means?
I nodded, throat raw.
A new door ahead, but this one was different—carved with twin runes, pulsing in time with my heartbeat and something else, something distant.
The Trace whispered, *You are not alone in here now.*
Behind us, two sets of footsteps—one mine, one echoing, hollow.
Ahead, the door opened a crack by itself.
— This one calls to both of you, the silhouette said.
I felt something move inside my chest. Not just the Trace.
I stepped forward.
And a voice—my own, but twisted—spoke from the shadows beyond the threshold:
— Welcome. Let's see what you're willing to lose next.