Aerich didn't remember collapsing.
One moment he was on the hallway floor, chest on fire, the Watchers staring at him like he'd just rewritten their understanding of reality. The next, he was floating—suspended in a thick, soundless dark that pressed in from every direction.
There was no pain here.
That terrified him.
He tried to move his arms. Nothing. Tried to shout. No sound came. The darkness wasn't empty; it was aware. He felt watched, not by eyes, but by attention itself—vast, patient, ancient.
Azhreth…
The name drifted through the void, not spoken, but remembered.
Aerich's heartbeat echoed unnaturally loud. "Who are you?" he tried to ask, but the words dissolved before leaving him.
The darkness responded by opening.
Not like a door. Like a wound.
Light bled through—cold, silver-white—and with it came memories that were not his.
A city burning beneath a torn sky. Towers collapsing inward as if crushed by invisible hands. Creatures screaming—some human, some not—as the world folded in on itself. At the center of it all stood a figure made of shifting light and shadow, arms outstretched, devouring everything that touched it.
Power flowed into that figure endlessly.
Magic. Faith. Life. Rage.
All of it consumed.
Aerich recoiled instinctively. "Stop—!"
The vision shattered.
He woke up screaming.
He bolted upright, lungs dragging in air like he'd been drowning. Cold sweat soaked his clothes. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.
"Aerich!"
His mother was beside him instantly, gripping his shoulders. Her eyes were red. Exhausted. Afraid.
"You're awake," she whispered, relief flooding her voice.
Aerich blinked rapidly, taking in his surroundings. He wasn't in the hallway anymore. He lay on the living room couch, wrapped in a blanket. The lights were on—but dim, powered by candles scattered around the room in careful patterns.
Symbols were drawn on the floor.
Not chalk. Not paint.
Something darker.
"What happened?" he croaked.
"You lost consciousness," his mother said. "For nearly an hour."
An hour.
His chest tightened. He pressed his palm over the spiral mark. It felt… warmer than usual. Not burning. Not painful.
Hungry.
The thought wasn't his.
He flinched.
Sereth stood near the far wall, arms crossed, watching him with sharp focus. The other Watchers remained in the room, silent, tense, as if expecting something to explode again.
"You experienced a Veil-dream," Sereth said. "Didn't you?"
Aerich swallowed. "I saw things."
Sereth nodded. "What did you see?"
He hesitated. The images still clung to him—burning skies, collapsing worlds, the figure that devoured everything it touched.
"I saw destruction," he said quietly. "And… me. But not me."
The Watchers exchanged looks.
His mother's voice shook. "What does that mean?"
Sereth exhaled slowly. "It means the power inside him isn't dormant anymore. It's communicating."
Aerich's stomach dropped. "Communicating how?"
"Through hunger," Sereth replied.
The word landed like a punch.
Aerich pushed himself upright, ignoring the dizziness. "I don't feel hungry."
Sereth's gaze sharpened. "You will."
Silence followed.
Outside, the city hummed faintly, unaware of the conversation deciding its fate.
The man who had spoken most harshly earlier stepped forward. "When you destroyed the creature," he said, "you didn't release its energy back into the Veil."
Aerich frowned. "I didn't know how."
"You ate it," the man said bluntly.
His mother sucked in a sharp breath.
Aerich stared at his hands. They looked normal. Human.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered.
"That doesn't matter," the Watcher replied. "Intent doesn't change consequence."
Anger flared—but it was muted now, smothered by dread. "So what happens now?"
Sereth answered softly, "Now the mark remembers."
Aerich looked up sharply. "Remembers what?"
"Power," she said. "And the feeling of taking it."
The hum stirred faintly in his chest, as if agreeing.
Aerich clenched his fists. "I don't want this."
"I believe you," Sereth said. "That is why you're still alive."
That didn't help.
His mother knelt in front of him, gripping his hands tightly. "Listen to me," she said, voice breaking. "What's inside you… it's dangerous. But you are still you. Don't let them make you think otherwise."
Aerich nodded weakly. "Then tell me the truth. All of it."
She closed her eyes.
"When you were born," she began, "the midwife tried to run."
Aerich stiffened. "What?"
"She said the mark shouldn't exist anymore," his mother continued. "That it belonged to something sealed long before our bloodlines were formed."
Sereth didn't interrupt.
"I was given a choice," his mother said. "Give you to the Watchers… or hide you and pray the seal held."
Aerich's chest hurt. "You chose to hide me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
She met his gaze, tears falling freely now. "Because every child given to them before you… disappeared."
The room went dead silent.
Aerich slowly turned his head toward Sereth. "Is that true?"
Sereth didn't look away. "Yes."
Rage surged—but it didn't explode this time. It sank deep, heavy and poisonous.
"So I was never safe," Aerich said. "Just… delayed."
"That delay mattered," Sereth said. "It allowed you to grow with a human anchor."
Aerich laughed bitterly. "Is that what I am to you? An anchor for a monster?"
"No," Sereth said quietly. "You are the cage."
The words echoed in his skull.
Aerich stood up suddenly. The candles flickered violently in response. The Watchers tensed.
"I saw something," he said, voice shaking but firm. "In the dark. A version of me that destroyed everything."
Sereth nodded once. "That is Azhreth's potential."
"Potential?" Aerich snapped. "That thing erased worlds!"
"And it can do so again," she replied. "If you lose control."
His mother grabbed his arm. "Then teach him," she said fiercely. "Don't threaten him. Teach him."
Sereth studied Aerich for a long moment.
"Training will not make him safe," she said. "It will make him dangerous faster."
Aerich felt something twist inside him. "So what—lock me away?"
"No," Sereth said. "We watch. We guide. And when the time comes—"
"When what?" Aerich demanded.
"When the seals begin to fall."
The hum surged again, stronger now. Aerich staggered, clutching his chest as a sharp ache ripped through him.
"What's happening?" his mother cried.
Sereth's eyes widened. "It's reacting."
"To what?" Aerich gasped.
Sereth looked toward the window.
"To proximity."
The glass darkened.
A shadow passed over the streetlight outside—too large, too wrong. The air pressure dropped, ears popping painfully.
Aerich's vision blurred as something inside him pulled.
Not outward.
Inward.
He felt it—another presence nearby. A source of power. Close. Calling to the mark like gravity calling to mass.
"No," Aerich whispered. "Stop—"
The hunger roared.
The spiral burned white-hot, veins of darkness branching out beneath his skin. He screamed as the urge to reach out became overwhelming.
Sereth shouted commands. The Watchers began chanting, symbols flaring on the floor.
The window shattered inward.
A creature surged through—sleek, fast, wrapped in distorted energy.
Aerich's body moved on its own.
The power leapt.
And for the first time…
Aerich didn't resist.