Night fell over Eldervale like a heavy cloak. The village was quiet now, save for the occasional creak of timber and the distant bark of a dog. But Arden could not sleep.
He lay in his small room, staring at the ceiling, heart hammering. Every shadow seemed alive, twisting and stretching across the walls. His demon stirred beneath his skin, restless, eager.
"Sleep is a weakness. Let me out… let me show them what you are."
Arden clenched the blanket, pressing it against his chest. "Not now. Not tonight."
The moment his eyes finally closed, the world shifted. Darkness swallowed him, but it was not the darkness of sleep, it was alive, pulsing, whispering.
"Vessel…"
The voice was low and commanding, echoing in a place beyond thought. Arden felt it in his bones, tugging at him, calling him into the shadows.
He stood in a forest unlike any he had ever seen. Trees towered impossibly high, their branches tangled like claws. The air was thick and heavy, filled with the scent of rot and iron. Shadows moved beneath the roots, writhing, alive.
"Come closer," the voice hissed. "It is time."
Arden's chest burned. He turned, searching for the source, but the shadows parted and shifted as if mocking him. The demon inside him stirred, whispering urgent, hungry words:
"Do it. Take control. Show them the power you hide. They will kneel before you."
"No!" Arden shouted, the sound echoing through the twisted forest. He swung his fists at the shadows, but they passed through him like smoke.
Then he saw her, a figure in the distance, shrouded in darkness, taller than any human, eyes glowing faintly. She or it raised a hand, and the shadows bowed toward her.
"You belong to me," the figure whispered, voice like ice and smoke. "You cannot run from what you are meant to become."
Arden fell to his knees, sweat and fear mingling on his skin. The demon hissed in his mind, furious at being ignored.
"Do not listen to it!" Arden shouted. "I am not yours!"
But the voice laughed softly, carrying a promise of power and ruin both. The shadows swirled tighter, coiling around him, drawing him toward the figure.
He awoke with a start, gasping, the sheets clinging to him like wet cloth. Moonlight spilled across the room. The village was silent. Too silent.
Yet in the quiet, he could still hear it faintly, insistent, in the spaces between his heartbeat:
"Vessel… you cannot hide."
Arden pressed his palms to his face, shaking. The demon inside him had gone quiet, wary. Something was stronger than it. Something older. Something that had marked him long before the forest, long before the beasts. And it was waiting.
Arden woke to the pale light of dawn creeping through his window. His chest heaved, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. The sheets were twisted around him, damp with fear and exertion. Every muscle ached as if he had been running for hours, though he had never left the room.
The village was quiet, deceptively calm. He listened for signs of movement, the footsteps of the hunters, the chatter of merchants but all was still. Too still.
"They know," the demon whispered, voice low and tense. "The one who calls to you…has seen your weakness. It waits."
Arden pressed a hand against his temple. "I can't let it control me. I won't."
But even as he said it, a cold shiver ran down his spine. The memory of the figure in the shadows, of the glowing eyes and the coiling darkness, lingered. He could still hear that faint whisper in his mind:
"Vessel… you cannot hide."
Rubbing his face, he forced himself to get up. He moved silently through the small house he shared with his family, careful not to wake anyone. The demon stayed quiet, unusual for the morning, but Arden knew it was watching, waiting for him to falter.
Outside, the village was stirring. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the faint chatter of villagers filled the air. Yet every glance seemed to prick at Arden. He could feel their unease, their suspicion lingering from last night's events.
Maya appeared in the street ahead of him, carrying a basket of bread. Her eyes met his, sharp and knowing.
"You didn't sleep," she said quietly, but without accusation.
"I…" Arden hesitated. "It's… nothing."
She didn't reply, but her gaze lingered, searching for the truth he refused to give. Arden wanted to speak, to tell her about the shadowed figure, the voice, the way the demon had gone still but the words lodged in his throat.
Instead, he nodded toward the village square. "We should check on the villagers. They're… uneasy."
Maya followed silently. The streets were already buzzing with whispers. Mothers clutched children tightly, men shook their heads in fear, and a few hunters muttered among themselves, glancing toward Arden as if expecting him to fail at any moment.
"They will betray you," the demon whispered. "Even she may not protect you when the time comes."
Arden shook his head, forcing himself to stay focused. "Not yet," he muttered. "I control myself… I still control myself."
But as he reached the square, he realized the danger wasn't only in the forest. The fear that had followed them home was growing, twisting into suspicion. Every whisper, every sidelong glance, pressed down on him like a weight he could not lift.
And somewhere, in the distance, faint, almost imperceptible, he heard it again.
"Vessel… you cannot hide."
Arden's jaw tightened. The figure in his vision, the voice, the demon they were all pieces of a puzzle he could not yet solve. And yet he knew, with a certainty that chilled his blood, that soon he would have to face them all.
Arden moved through the village square, careful to keep his head down. The whispers had not stopped; if anything, they seemed louder in the morning light.
"Look at him," a voice muttered from behind a cart. "The boy who froze in the forest…"
Arden's stomach tightened. He forced himself to keep walking, but then a shadow fell across his path.
Garrick, the hunter who had singled him out the night before, blocked his way. His eyes were hard, his jaw tight.
"Morning, Arden," Garrick said, voice low and sharp. "Sleep well?"
Arden's fingers brushed the hilt of his blade, though he kept it sheathed. "I slept," he said evenly, though his chest still felt heavy from the nightmares.
"You call what you did there bravery?" Garrick's glare sharpened. "The way you froze the last time… you heard voices, didn't you? Everyone saw it. The beasts followed your lead. Don't try to deny it."
Arden swallowed, fighting the urge to lash out. The demon inside him stirred, whispering sharp, hungry words:
"Strike him. Show them all what you are. They'll respect you… or fear you."
"No," Arden whispered under his breath. "Not now."
He met Garrick's gaze steadily. "I did what I had to. The beasts stopped because I fought, not because I froze."
Garrick sneered. "Fought? You were trembling like a child. And the voices you were listening to were something we couldn't hear. Marked, Arden. That's what you are."
Maya appeared just in time, stepping between them. "Enough, Garrick!" Her voice was firm, unwavering. "He saved lives that day. Don't turn your fear into a weapon against him."
Garrick's eyes flicked to her, then back to Arden. "This isn't about fear, girl. This is about truth. The forest doesn't lie, and neither do the beasts. That boy is… different. Dangerous."
Arden felt a cold weight settle in his chest. Not the demon this time, but the reality of the village turning against him, of the whispers that could grow into outright hostility.
Maya tightened her grip on his arm. "Don't listen to him," she said quietly, but her hand trembled slightly, betraying her worry.
Garrick spat on the ground and walked away, muttering under his breath. Arden watched him go, then sank onto a nearby bench, heart racing.
The demon inside purred softly, pleased at the tension. But Arden's thoughts drifted back to the vision, to the shadowed figure, and the persistent whisper:
"Vessel… you cannot hide."
He clenched his fists. The village feared him. The beasts feared him. And now… even those who were supposed to protect him had doubts. Arden realized with chilling certainty, the struggle was only beginning.