"He's going to die!"
The kitchen was a space of shadows, smelling of oats and a fear so thick it felt like one could feel it in the air.
The figures discussing had only their faces lit from the small candle on the center of their table.
Elena didn't shout now. Her voice was a jagged whisper. "I'm his mother, I know… But we have to do something about that monster in him."
She began staring at the center of the scarred wooden table where a dull, grey egg sat. It was a miserable, dispiriting thing. They had sold the last of their harvest and a blue beast dagger that Thomas had luckily picked in the outskirts, just to get Elio enrolled at the Serenum Prestige Academy (SPA), and this was the best egg they could afford.
In a world where your beast was your status, where respect was only earned through your level as a Beast Tamer or the rank of your contracted beast, where your only chance of survival is the potential of your beast, Elena Ravina and Thomas Ravina had bought their son, Elio, a poor egg certain to bring forth uselessness.
"Keep your voice down," Thomas hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. "The neighbors... They already look at him strangely. If they hear you…"
"I don't care about the neighbors!" Elena's eyes darted toward the narrow hallway, pretending to care less when she was aware of the implications. "Twelve years, Thomas. Twelve years, we've watched that... that thing behind his eyes, living in him and slowly consuming our sweet boy."
Elena broke, restrained tears escaping her aching eyes.
"The ceremony is tomorrow," she was sobbing. "We have to take him there! If he tries bonding without you-know-who's intervention, we could lose him. We could… lose our only child."
Elio stood in the darkness of the living room, his fingers digging into the rot-softened wood of the doorframe. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He had only wanted a cup of water to wash away the thirst and maybe the nervousness tightening his chest since sundown.
But as he heard his mother speak with so much dejection, his eyes moistened until he heard something about contracting beast.
He stepped into the kitchen. "Mother?"
The two parents spun around, their faces contorted, their words strangling in their throats.
Why, you ask?
Because they didn't see their sweet, young Elio.
They saw the familiar monster.
The boy's eyes, normally a soft hazel, were being swallowed. His iris bled into the white, turning his entire eyes into terrifying obsidians.
From the pores of his skin, a faint substance darker than any soot began to drift. It didn't drift like smoke; it coiled like a living snake, reaching for anything breathing or containing mana.
"Elio?" Thomas gasped, reaching out, but his hand stopped inches away. The air around the boy felt strange, the same air that made the very hair on their skins stand.
When Elio spoke, the sound didn't come from a twelve-year-old's throat. It was a vibration that seemed to come from everywhere, ancient and hollow.
They had seen this before.
"My baby… Please, not again…" Elena began crying.
"The deal was made," the boy said. His head tilted at a sickening angle, his neck clicking softly, eyes dark like the bottom of a well. "The nexus had been established. I will bring them all into this world. This world is mine…"
"No!" Elena lunged forward, grabbing her son's shoulders. She didn't pull away even when the black 'gas' singed her skin like wildfire. "Elio, listen to me! Fight it! You are our son! I know you're there! You have to fight!"
Elio groaned.
Elena's burning hands slipped.
She was shocked, utterly broken.
This time was different. It wasn't exactly what they had seen a couple of times.
The shadows in the corners suddenly elongated, turning into dancing darkness that raked across the walls. Something tried to form from the shadows, but couldn't. Then suddenly, the dark, gaseous substance began escaping in greater quantities.
"Run..." Thomas croaked, his eyes wide as he saw a spark of black fire ignite on the wooden pillar in the house. It didn't necessarily produce heat; it consumed the very air, everything. "Elio, if you can hear me, take the egg and run!"
The boy's face contorted. For a split second, the blackness in his eyes flickered, revealing a terrified child drowning in his own fear.
"Dad, It hurts... it's so dark and it burns..."
"RUN!" his father roared, shoving the grey egg into Elio's arms.
Then, their world turned into a nightmare of obsidian flames.
The black fire consumed everything.
The wooden components of the small house shriveled and cracked. The pillars vanished without much sound.
Elio's small legs pushed him out.
But the deed was already done.
He stumbled out into the night, the grey egg clutched against his ribs. Behind him, the small, dilapidated building was being swallowed by a pillar of darkness that roared like a physical beast. Through the sound of the collapsing roof, he heard one final cry.
"Run, Elio! Don't look back! Just run!"
He saw his mother's face through the window for a heartbeat, framed by the black fire. She wasn't screaming in pain. She was watching him despite her slow, painful death, her lips moving in a silent prayer even as the dark flames claimed her.
Elio ran.
He ran until his lungs felt like they were burning, his bare feet cutting into the dirt and mud of the road.
The darkness that had possessed him receded for now, leaving him shivering and somewhat smelling of death.
After stretched minutes of frantic running, it didn't take long to reach the outskirts of the nearest town and see some sort of civilization.
The moon was high.
There were no guards. The town was just as poor as his own village; small, falling buildings, thatched roof, low mana.
The town was fast asleep. There were only drunkards and thugs kicking the floor's dirt all around, lurking in alleys.
He soon found an imperceptible, narrow alleyway. His small, frightened eyes scanned the entrance for any intrusion, and when he found none, he collapsed behind a stack of empty crates, his body trembling so hard the egg nearly slipped from his grasp.
"I killed them," he whispered, the words catching in a sob, cracking out with every passing second. "I killed them... They're gone… I'm a… a mon-ster!"
His breath was heavy, beads of sweat profusely trickling down his face.
"Why me?!" His voice cracked again.
He curled into a ball, burying his face in his knees. The grey egg, the last thing his parents had ever given him, was the only thing he had left. He hugged it to his chest, his tears wetting the dull shell.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, over and over, repeating the words for gods know how long, until his voice failed him and his eyes grew heavy with a weight that wasn't just sleep.
He looked frail, battered, and spent. And despite all that happened, his eyelids grew heavy and forcefully closed.
The alley remained dark for hours, only the gentle whistle of air and draggy footsteps of drunkards occasionally producing sounds.
Then out of nowhere, a sudden, impossible light bloomed at the mouth of the passage.
It wasn't the light of a lantern. It was a pure, blinding radiance, warped at the very entrance of the alleyway.
Out of the glow, a figure stepped forward.
The form was fluid, shimmering like heat haze. You couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman; it was simply a presence, a weight of power that shimmered and hum rhythmically.
The figure moved silently, the light it cast washing over the grime of the alley and the tear-streaks on Elio's face. It knelt beside the boy, a lustrous hand reaching out to stroke the boy's matted black hair.
The figure soon noticed the grey egg wrapped in Elio's protective embrace. With a slender finger, the being touched the shell.
For a few seconds, the mediocre egg didn't look mediocre anymore.
A golden, crystalline lattice flickered across the surface, a divine blueprint being rewritten from the inside out. The dull shell pulsed with a heartbeat that matched the boy's own. Then as quickly as it had begun, the shimmer died, leaving the egg looking just as grey and unimpressive as before.
The figure stood, the light beginning to pull back into the void. It looked down at the sleeping boy, the vessel of darkness, the orphan of a tragedy, and now, the host of a hidden gift.
"Cursed and Blessed," the voice whispered, sounding like small bells ringing at once. "Rest now, little one. For your darkness isn't over yet."
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