Aerich woke to cold stone beneath his back. The room smelled of iron and wax. Candlelight flickered across walls etched with runes that throbbed faintly like a heartbeat.
Sereth stood across from him, arms folded. The other Watchers lingered near the corners, silent, their expressions unreadable. Even his mother stayed at the threshold, eyes shadowed with worry she couldn't hide.
"Good morning," Sereth said, voice tight, almost clinical. "Ready for your first lesson?"
Aerich's chest tightened. "You mean… training?"
"Correction," Sereth said, stepping forward. "Control. Mastery. Survival."
He swallowed. "I still don't know what I'm controlling."
Sereth's gaze hardened. "Then you will learn the hard way."
The hum stirred faintly in his chest, annoyed, restless. The spiral burned cold under his skin. Aerich pressed his hand against it instinctively, but the sensation wasn't pain—yet. It was waiting, anticipating.
Sereth motioned to the center of the room. On the floor, a series of floating sigils shimmered in midair. Shadows shifted across them unnaturally, as if trying to crawl out of the lines.
"Step into the circle," Sereth commanded.
Aerich hesitated. "What if I fail?"
She tilted her head. "Then it fails you."
Swallowing his fear, he stepped forward.
The moment his foot crossed the boundary, the circle flared violently. The air thickened. His limbs stiffened. Something low and hungry pulsed beneath his skin. He stumbled but remained upright.
"Focus on the hunger," Sereth said. "It's not your enemy. It is your teacher."
Aerich's head spun. He didn't understand. The hunger roared now, pushing at every nerve ending, a sensation that made his bones vibrate. His chest ached—not in pain, but like something inside him wanted out. It wanted growth. Expansion. Something beyond control.
"You will learn to take it," Sereth continued. "To contain it without destruction. And to strike without letting it strike first."
Aerich's stomach turned. "Strike? With what?"
"Yourself," she said. "Your essence. Your mark. Everything you carry inside. The first lesson is not about fighting them—it is about fighting yourself."
He blinked. "You want me to hurt myself?"
"No," Sereth corrected, her tone sharp. "I want you to bleed without losing your soul."
The Watchers raised their hands. The room shifted. Shadows detached themselves from the corners, coiling into vague forms. They moved as one, circling Aerich like predators circling prey. No faces, no features. Just pressure and intent.
Aerich felt the hunger flare.
His chest burned.
It called. It wanted.
And he realized he had no choice but to feed it, even if just a little.
The first strike wasn't outward. It was internal.
He let the spiral flare. Light shot beneath his skin, white-threaded with black, pulsating in rhythm with the hunger. He felt the power surge, bending the shadows away from him. It tasted like cold fire, like liquid iron and night. It was everything and nothing at once.
The shadows recoiled. They lunged again.
Aerich faltered.
The power surged back, furious now. His limbs shook violently. Sweat poured down his face. A scream tore from his throat, raw and instinctive.
Then Sereth intervened.
"Focus!" she shouted. "Do not let the hunger act alone. Channel it. Decide. Guide."
He clenched his fists. The spiral blazed. This time, he imagined not the creature, not the enemy, not fear—but the empty space he wanted to protect: the room, his mother, even himself. Every pulse of the power obeyed him, bending the shadows away, dissipating them into nothing.
When it ended, Aerich collapsed on the floor, gasping, the sweat soaking through his clothes. His arms shook. His legs trembled. He had never felt anything like it.
Sereth knelt in front of him. "Good," she said simply. "You survived your first lesson."
His mother rushed forward. "Aerich, are you okay?" she asked, gripping his shoulder.
"I… I think so," he said shakily. "But… it's getting worse."
"Yes," Sereth said. "It will. You can't hide from it. You can only manage it."
Aerich's chest still burned faintly. The spiral under his skin throbbed. "How do I… stop it from taking over me?"
"You don't," Sereth said. "You learn to move with it. To push it, pull it, guide it. And if you fail…" Her gaze hardened. "You will pay."
He swallowed. "Pay how?"
"Everyone pays," she said. "Those who misuse power, those who ignore it, those who run from it. The mark remembers. The Veil remembers. And when it decides you are ready, you will face its judgment."
The Watchers murmured softly in agreement, voices like wind through dead trees. Aerich's stomach turned. Every muscle in his body screamed to run, to escape, to disappear.
But he couldn't. Not now. Not ever again.
Sereth stood. "Lesson one is over."
Aerich looked at the circle. The shadows had vanished, leaving the room as it had been. Calm. Empty. Safe.
For now.
He pressed a hand to his chest. The spiral throbbed quietly. Waiting. Hungry. Patient.
His mother sat down beside him, holding his hand. "You did it," she said softly. "You survived."
Aerich exhaled shakily. "Did I… really survive? Or just survive long enough to try again?"
Sereth's voice cut through the quiet. "Every lesson you survive teaches you something. If you survive long enough, you may decide what kind of monster you become—or what kind of man."
Aerich closed his eyes. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. But he stayed there, pressed against the cold stone floor, feeling the mark pulse faintly beneath his palm.
Something deep inside him had awakened.
Something patient.
Something that would never forget.
And something that would never let him sleep in peace again.