Silence ruled the ruined tower.
Caspian crouched in the shadows, claws pressed against cold stone, every breath shallow and measured. He did not dare to move. Did not dare to blink.
The world felt… wrong.
Sounds carried too far. He could hear distant screams echoing through the Citadel, hear the crackle of fires, the pounding of frantic footsteps far below. Even farther still, he could hear heartbeats—dozens of them—steady, frantic, fading.
His stomach twisted, with a deep growl echoing in the ruined tower.
Hunger stirred.
Caspian clenched his jaw, sharp fangs clicking softly as he forced it down. "Not now," he whispered hoarsely. "Not again."
The hunger did not answer.
It waited.
Slowly, carefully, he raised one clawed hand before his face. Pale skin stretched unnaturally over muscle that felt stronger than it should have been. Veins pulsed faintly beneath the surface, carrying great power, far beyond any normal human.
He swallowed.
"This body…" he muttered. "It's not mine."
A memory surfaced—flickering, incomplete. His father, an awakened, gave him some advice before entering into his nightmare.
"Stay calm, don't panic, don't rush, the best move is not always the bravest or most heroic one, but the one that keeps you alive."
Caspian's breathing became more relaxed, giving him enough clarity to focus on what he wanted to do. As his father had told him, he thought of himself and wanted to know who he was.
Then, when he focused enough, shimmering runes appeared in the air infront of him, written in an ancient language, and althought he didn't knew what language it was, the meaning was clear for him.
He looked for the runes of his aspect and he found them.
***
Name: Caspian.
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: —
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Night Blessing], [Mark of Divinity], [Crimson Inheritance].
Aspect: [Creature of the night].
Aspect Description: [There was once a proud and powerful king blessed by the moon who knew even the gods, but his ambition was such that he felled into corruption and madness. But you have nothing to do with that, you are nothing but one of the countless, mindless servants of this king]
Caspian could feel the hunger inside him growning larger each second, his fangs were dying of thirst, so he read the descriptions of his attributes until they were burned into his mind
[Night Blessing] Attribute Description: "You are blessed by the night, as long as the sun is set, you will show your true strength."
[Mark of Divinity] Attribute Description: "You bear a faint scent of divinity, as though someone briefly touched by it once, a long time ago."
[Crimson Inheritance] Attribute Description: "The power of one is the power of all, the blood carries power, drink the blood, and you will get the power, and once one taste the power, there will always be something left of it inside them."
There it is, the reason why he felt so strong even when he was only a dormant, he have drank so much blood when he was in his mindless state that there was no comparison beetween him and and the average dormant.
Caspian's thought were interrupted with a command echoing in his mind.
Flow, crimson life, flow.
His claws trembled.
The command echoed again, deeper this time.
Caspian's body tensed, every muscle tightening as the hunger surged violently. His vision sharpened, the world painting itself in pulses and rhythms—heartbeats, warmth, weakness.
Below him, life burned brightly.
He swallowed hard, fangs aching.
"No…" he whispered, voice raw. "I won't slaughter them, they are not animals, they are people."
The command did not care.
It pressed against his mind like an ocean against fragile stone, demanding obedience, demanding blood. His claws scraped against the tower floor as his body leaned forward, instincts screaming for him to leap, to hunt, to feast.
Caspian closed his eyes.
"I am human, like them."
The words felt weak. Fragile. Like a gust of wind could make it fly away from his mind
So he forced himself to remember more.
The name of his sister, Thea.
Her laughter, clean as a whistle and pure like clean water.
A promise he had made before entering the dream.
His breathing steadied—slow, controlled, just as his father had taught him.
"I won't be a tool" he growled. "But I won't let them suffer either."
The hunger roared in protest.
Caspian opened his eyes and looked toward the city, fires crackling.
The screams were fewer now. Many were already fading.
He made his choice.
With a silent leap, he descended once more into the crimson-lit streets—not as a mindless beast, but not yet as a human.
He moved through alleys and shattered homes, finding only those whose lives were already slipping away—bodies crushed beneath rubble, throats torn beyond saving, hearts beating weakly, seconds from silence.
For each, he knelt.
"I'm sorry" he whispered, as if saying that could make things better, he didn't knew if he was saying sorry to them or to himself.
Only then did he drink.
The hunger eased, but it did not disappear. It never did. And with every life taken, something inside him twisted tighter, colder.
The crimson moon watched.
Hours passed.
By the time dawn threatened the horizon, the Citadel of the Stars had fallen silent. Fires burned unchecked. Blood pooled in the streets like shallow rivers.
Far away, deep within the heart of the ruined Citadel, something ancient stirred.
A presence vast and suffocating.
The lord of the night had returned, Caspian could feel it in his blood, all thanks to that damn aspect of [Creature of the Night].
Caspian felt it the moment it entered the citadel—a pressure that crushed his chest, a will so immense it made his defiance feel laughably small.
"…So this is the master...the final boss of this nightmare" he whispered.
And somewhere beneath the Citadel, blood began to gather.