The harsh scent of antiseptic and damp earth filled the cold air of the Forest Vale infirmary. The mingling of sterile medicine and raw soil carried the echo of survival—the cost of it. Kovan's eyes fluttered open first, the dim light stabbing at his vision like needles. He blinked through the haze, slowly registering the rough wooden walls and muted sounds of distant footsteps.
It wasn't a dream. He was still alive.
Pain lanced through his chest when he tried to shift, a dull ache blooming across his ribs and limbs. His body was heavy—bruised, battered, broken in places he couldn't name. Somewhere near him, there were soft breaths and shallow groans. Familiar ones.
He blinked again, forcing the room into focus. Two figures lay on the beds beside him. Kovan in the middle, Myla to the left, Leia to the right.
"Myla? Leia?" His voice cracked like dry twigs, rough and barely audible.
Both girls stirred at the sound. Their eyes met his, wide and unsteady. Pale. Haunted. For a moment, none of them spoke. The silence between them wasn't peace—it was a weight, a presence that pressed on their chests and refused to lift.
Kovan swallowed, throat parched. "Where... where's Bren?"
Myla's lips trembled. Her voice came out as a fragile whisper, barely clinging to its shape. "He didn't come back with us. The shadows... they took him."
"No." Leia's voice cracked as if the word itself betrayed her. Her denial was instinctual, desperate. "He can't be gone. I... I didn't even see him fall."
Kovan's gut twisted. His heart kicked violently in his chest. His mind clawed backwards, replaying the chaos of that final moment in the cavern—the way the shadows roared, the light died, and then there was just... black. No flicker of movement. No spark of escape.
No Bren.
"We thought he would have come back with us," Myla continued, her gaze distant, locked on something that wasn't there. "But the shadows must have swallowed him whole..."
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. The sterile smell turned metallic in Kovan's nose, like blood under ice. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned bone white, but it didn't help.
"I told him to run," he muttered, his voice rising with each word. "I told him to run... Why didn't you run, god dammit!"
He slammed his fist into the mattress beneath him. It wasn't enough. Nothing would be.
A sudden knock at the door jolted them all. The sound was too soft for what followed. Silas stepped in, his usually composed demeanour weighed down by something unseen. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on each of them with unreadable intent. The air, already heavy, turned suffocating.
Behind him came Sergeant McEvoy. His face was grim, carved from stone. His jaw tight. The disdain in his eyes was faint, but it was there. Like he'd seen something that made his skin crawl.
The three young hunters sat up as best they could, eyes darting between the two men. Kovan's pulse hammered against his ribs.
"Bren's dead..." he said quietly. "I can feel it..."
Silas stepped forward, gaze steady but unexpectedly warm. "Bren is alive."
The words landed like a thunderclap. For a beat, there was no reaction—then an audible exhale, a strangled breath of disbelief and relief in one.
Myla's voice broke the silence, fragile and shaken. "Alive? How? We... we saw the shadows consume him. We thought he was gone."
"None of you saw what happened after," McEvoy said, voice low but firm. "He survived because of something... something not fully understood. But he's here."
Silas pulled a small device from his cloak and activated it. A pale image shimmered to life in the air—a projection of Bren. He lay still, eyes closed, chest rising and falling steadily. His skin was pale but unmistakably alive.
"Bren won the battle," Silas said. "But he won't be returning to the guild for some time. The fusion with the shadow power saved him... and the three of you. Sergeant McEvoy will remain with him until further notice."
Leia's hand shot to her mouth, her breath catching. Her eyes shimmered, not with joy, but fear. Something's wrong, she thought, instinct flaring. Something feels more off than before...
Silas didn't elaborate. "We wanted to wait until you were conscious. There's more to his condition than you know. For now, that information is restricted—known only to myself, Sargent McEvoy, and Sargent Moon."
Kovan gritted his teeth. "If he's alive, then why did it feel like he died? The shadows, the light going out... it was like everything ended."
"That's the thing," Silas replied. "Something did end. But he stopped it. He brought you back."
Myla lowered her gaze. Her voice was quiet, hollow. "So we just pretend nothing happened? Go back to training like he was never there?"
Silas exchanged a look with McEvoy before answering. "For now, yes."
Leia's shoulders shook. She blinked away tears, biting her lower lip until it nearly bled. "We have to find him. We can't leave him like that."
"You'll have your chance," Silas said. "He'll need you all—your strength, your trust. But right now, your task is to recover."
As they turned to leave, Kovan's voice rang out, rough but unwavering. "We won't let him face this alone. Whatever's happening... he's one of us."
McEvoy stepped out first. Silas paused at the doorway, back turned. He gave the faintest smirk, something unreadable in it and disappeared into the corridor.
Across the forest, in another cabin shrouded in quiet, Bren lay in bed, trapped in a storm that sleep could not silence.
He tossed violently, sweat soaking through his clothes. His breath came in ragged gasps. Behind his closed eyelids, fire bloomed—screams echoed. The sound of tearing flesh. The taste of ash.
He jerked upright with a shout, chest heaving. His body trembled, cold despite the warmth of the room. Every inch of his skin crawled like something lived underneath it.
His heart pounded.
But it wasn't his heart.
It was theirs.
Bren clutched his chest, fingers trembling over the place where something alien pulsed in rhythm, something deeper, older, furious.
"You're finally awake."
The voice slithered through his skull like oil, slick and serrated. Bren's eyes widened. He clawed at his head, shaking.
"Get out of my head," he hissed.
"You bear my heart, child. You think you could silence me forever?"
"No... no. You're just a dream. A nightmare left behind."
"I am your truth. The part you fear. The one who endured when your weak little body should've died."
Bren staggered out of bed, stumbling across the creaking floorboards. His knees gave out, but he caught himself on the wall. Every breath came like frost through his lungs. The shadows curled at the edges of the room.
"Why now?" he whispered. "Why are you trying to take over?"
"Because your soul is cracking, weakling. I gave you power... and now I want your body so I can be whole."
He turned to the window, and what stared back was not him. A face hovered in the reflection—his, but not. Hollow cheeks, angular jaw, slatted pupils glowing like coals. The violet-blue colour of his irises bled to black.
He staggered back in horror.
"No. I'm you. I'm not a monster."
"But you are... you felt it. In the cavern remember? The hunger. The power. When you tore them low grade demon's apart... don't lie to me, boy—you enjoyed it."
"Shut up!" he roared.
He punched the wall. Splinters pierced his fists. Blood trickled down his fingers.
A laugh echoed in his mind.
"It's too late... you will become what you fear most... me."
Then it appeared—
[Warning: Mental Corruption Increasing – 42%]
[Host Vessel in Conflict. Stabilization Protocol Engaged.]
The messages flashed in his vision, red and insistent. But Nythor wasn't done.
"Let me guide you. Together, we'll be unstoppable. They'll fear you. Worship you. Better that than being a forgotten corpse, yes?"
"No," Bren whispered, collapsing to his knees. "I don't want that. I don't want power if it means becoming you."
A wave of dark energy surged from his core, a ripple of black and violet light that shattered a nearby bottle into pieces. He gasped, clutching his chest. His veins glowed faintly with corrupted fire.
"I'm still me... I'm still me..."
"Not for long," the voice whispered, satisfied. "Not... for... long..."
[System Alert: Host Integrity Threatened.]
[Warning: Soul Synchronization with Entity 'Nythor' at 47%.]
[Next Threshold at 50% – Irreversible Merge Imminent.]
[Choose: Resist — Delay Corruption | Submit — Unlock True Power]
[Time Remaining: 00:12:49]