The training room didn't look like a training room.
It looked like a cathedral ruined by time and fire—high vaulted ceilings, cracked black stone walls, glowing red candles hovering in the air without holders. In the center stood a large obsidian circle carved into the floor, glowing faintly with unfamiliar symbols.
Lucien stood at the edge, waiting.
"You brought me to church?" Elara muttered, arms crossed.
He smirked. "Sacred spaces can be reclaimed. This one now belongs to me."
"Of course it does," she said, stepping forward cautiously. "So… what now? Do I sacrifice a goat? Read from some cursed book?"
"No." Lucien tilted his head. "You bleed."
Her stomach flipped. "Excuse me?"
He motioned to the floor. "The seal won't respond to you unless you offer it something. Just a drop. You carry the blood ink within you now—but power doesn't respond to passive participants."
Elara looked down at the black stone. It pulsed faintly under her gaze. Like it was alive.
She swallowed, then pulled a pin from her sleeve—one she'd used to tie her hair back.
A small prick. A single drop.
When it hit the stone, the room trembled.
The seal flared to life—symbols blazing red, the air thickening around her like smoke and heat. Elara stumbled back instinctively, but Lucien didn't move.
"You've been bound," he said. "Now the mark will respond."
"What mark?" she snapped.
He pointed to her chest.
She looked down.
Faintly glowing through the silk of her gown was a sigil—an intricate symbol she'd never seen before. It looked like a twisted rose made of thorns, flame, and something like a serpent. It pulsed with her heartbeat.
"That appeared when you signed," Lucien said. "It's not just a seal. It's a lock—and a key. With it, you'll learn how to command what lies beneath the surface."
"I don't want to be some cursed puppet."
He stepped forward slowly. "You made a deal, Elara. That makes you more than a puppet. You're becoming a wielder. One of the few who can bend energy to will."
"I didn't ask to bend anything," she hissed. "I just wanted revenge."
"And you'll have it," he said calmly. "But power comes with process."
The obsidian circle flared again.
"Let's begin."
He raised his hand, and suddenly—something rose from the seal.
A shape.
A shadow.
Humanoid, but twisted. Its body was made of black smoke, its eyes burning embers. It hissed as it formed, then rushed toward her like a storm.
Elara screamed—and threw up her hands on instinct.
A shockwave exploded from her chest, slamming the creature backward and scattering it into mist.
Silence.
Lucien looked… pleased.
"You resisted."
"I reacted," she gasped, shaking.
"No," he said. "You commanded. That was instinctual control. Few can do that on the first try."
She stared at her hands, which still trembled. The air around her felt different now. Denser. Warmer.
"Why did it attack me?" she asked.
"To test your fear."
"Well, mission accomplished," she muttered. "What the hell was that?"
"One of many. A lesser shade—born from guilt and unspoken anger. The more fear you hold, the more it feeds."
"So I'm just going to be fighting demons now?"
Lucien tilted his head. "They're not demons. They're fragments—pieces of yourself. Your shadow, made manifest."
Elara's breath caught.
It had her shape. Her outline.
"You mean that thing—was me?"
"A piece of you," he said. "Buried under pain, betrayal, and regret. You carry many more."
"How many?"
His eyes glittered. "That depends on how honest you are with yourself."
She stepped out of the circle, breathing hard.
"I'm not ready for this."
"You will be."
"I don't want to become like you."
Lucien's smile faded.
"I didn't become this willingly either, Elara," he said. "But I learned. And so will you."
He turned to leave, then paused at the doorway.
"Tomorrow, we go deeper. And next time, it won't be a shadow of you—it'll be someone you used to love."
The door closed behind him, leaving Elara in the candlelit dark.
And for the first time since she signed the contract…
She began to wonder who she'd be when this was over.