The evolution came in the dead of night.
Silas sat huddled in a small, damp tent at the edge of the camp. His body was burning. It felt as if someone was pouring molten lead into his bones and then freezing it instantly. He stuffed a piece of leather into his mouth to keep from screaming.
[100/100 Points Reached. Commencing Level 2 Evolution: 'Void-Walker' Path.]
His vision shattered. For a moment, he wasn't in a tent; he was floating in a vast, screaming emptiness between stars. Then, the darkness rushed back in, slamming into his soul.
[Evolution Complete.]
[New Active Skill: Void Blink (Short-range teleportation through shadows).]
[New Passive Skill: Tongue of Lies (Your spiritual pressure is permanently masked to appear 90% weaker than reality).]
Silas gasped, spitting out the leather. He felt light. His senses had sharpened to a terrifying degree. He could hear the heartbeat of the guard fifty yards away; he could smell the dry lavender on Evelyn's robes in the central pavilion.
Suddenly, the flap of his tent moved.
Silas instantly collapsed into a heap, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged. He wiped the sweat from his brow and forced his eyes to glaze over with a look of exhaustion.
Evelyn walked in.
She wasn't wearing her heavy armor or the stiff liturgical robes. She wore a simple, silk slip of dark violet that clung to her like a second skin. Her silver hair was loose, flowing like moonlight down her back. She looked less like a monster and more like a goddess of the night—but the air around her still tasted like a lightning storm.
"You're awake," she said. It wasn't a question.
"My Lady..." Silas stammered, trying to crawl backward in feigned terror. "I... I was just... the fever..."
Evelyn didn't speak. She walked toward him, her bare feet silent on the dirt floor. She knelt beside him, the scent of winter lilies overwhelming his senses. She reached out, her cool, slender fingers grasping his chin and forcing him to look into her eyes.
"You survived the battlefield," she whispered, her gaze boring into his soul. "You survived the miasma. Even my guards are coughing up blood tonight, yet your lungs are clear. Why, Silas?"
"I... I don't know..." Silas whimpered, his eyes welling with fake tears. "Maybe the Void... it doesn't want me back yet."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. She traced the line of his throat with a sharp fingernail, right where her blade had cut him days before. The wound was gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin.
"I don't like mysteries I can't solve," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, sultry purr. "Tomorrow, we begin the second phase of the infusion. I am going to triple the dosage. I want to see if you are a vessel... or if you are a thief."
She leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear. "If you survive tomorrow, I might actually give you a name worth remembering. If you don't... I'll make sure your remains are scattered so thinly that not even the Void can find you."
She stood up and vanished into the night, leaving the tent smelling of lilies and death.
Silas sat in the dark, his hand touching the spot where her fingers had been. A slow, dark smile spread across his face.
"Triple the dosage?" he whispered to the shadows. "Thank you for the meal, My Lady."