Chapter Three: The Devil's Bargain
The night was a hollow thing.
Stars had long vanished behind thick, roiling clouds that swallowed the silver moon whole. The wind, cold and sharp, carried nothing but the scent of decay and sorrow from the city's black heart.
Lucian stood by the wide, slow river—the one dark ribbon that cut through the endless stone and shadow of the kingdom. His arms wrapped tight around his younger brother, cradling the boy in his trembling lap as soft, helpless sobs wracked the child's small body.
The emptiness stretched endless.
There had been no burial for their mother. No whispered prayers, no final goodbyes. Soldiers had simply dragged her broken body away under the dead gaze of the stone walls, discarded as refuse in some nameless oubliette beneath the palace. Lucian didn't know where or how she had been thrown out of sight, only that she was gone.
Gone.
The word echoed like a curse in his mind.
Lucian himself had not slept all night, nor had he cried since the moment her lifeless eyes locked onto his for the final time. His face was stained with dirt and old tears, but his eyes were dry, hauntingly empty—hollow sockets where the warmth of a soul once lived.
Emotions had been drained clean by grief, pain, horror, and above all else, a numbing coldness swallowing everything alive inside him.
But beneath that empty shell, buried deep beneath layers of despair, simmered a dark flame: anger. A red-hot inferno of sorrow and hatred that screamed for something — anything — to give it outlet.
Revenge.
Power.
Strength.
Lucian's cracked lips parted, his breath a ragged hiss over the river's mournful murmur. He rocked his brother again, whispering promises he no longer believed.
I will bring them justice. I will be strong. One day, I will change everything.
The thin figure of the boy pressed closer, trembling, eyes wide but too small and fragile to carry the burning fire of vengeance Lucian already dreamed of.
Suddenly, the sound of shifting on the opposite bank drew Lucian's gaze through the swirling mist.
A silhouette — black and unnatural — rose from the mist like a nightmare crawling out from the depths of a forgotten dream.
It stepped forward.
At first, Lucian thought it a shadow, but as it drew near, he saw the grotesque truth.
Its skin was so black it seemed to swallow the dim light, pulsing with an oily sheen as if woven from living shadows.
Long, jagged claws stretched from twisted fingers, sharp and gleaming like the blades of ancient torture instruments.
Its face was a harrowing mask of horror. No eyes, just wide pits of dull blackness that reflected nothing but pure void. Where a mouth should have been, an unnatural grin stretched impossibly wide—thin lips peeled back to reveal rows of jagged, glimmering fangs overlong and stained with decay.
Its voice was a chilling breath, both seductive and cruel, threading into Lucian's soul like ice water laced with poison.
"Lucian," it hissed, voice slithering through the still air as if it knew every ache buried in his heart.
Lucian's breath caught. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his brother closer.
"Who are you?" His voice trembled but bore a brittle edge of defiance. "What do you want?"
The figure smiled wider, a cold, dark promise curling the edges of its terrible grin.
"I am your reckoning. Your ruin. Your salvation."
Lucian's heart pounded so violently it was as if it might break his ribs.
The figure stepped closer, soft but sure — a predator closing for the kill.
"I am the key to your freedom, to vengeance, to the power you crave."
Lucian stared, breath ragged, eyes searching the void beneath those black pits for any glimmer of truth, or mercy.
"Why should I trust you? How do I know you're real?"
The creature's smile deepened into something terrible and beautiful at once.
"I am the whispered nightmare behind every locked door. The shadow in the corner of your eye. The ancient pact that has been made since before kings ruled."
It paused, wiping a velvety black claw across its cruel lips.
"Lucian, I see inside you. I feel your anger, your sorrow, your longing. I know what you desire more than you do yourself."
Lucian swallowed hard, his body frozen—half in fear, half in awe.
The creature's voice dropped to a purring murmur that crawléd beneath his skin:
"I can give you strength beyond imagining. Power to crush those who wronged you. The fire to burn the corrupt. The cold steel to carve your path through the lies of this world."
Lucian's fists clenched tighter, nails biting into bruised flesh.
"…What must I do?"
The figure's smile turned razor sharp, glinting like poisoned glass.
"You must sell me your soul."
Lucian's breath caught, a frozen shiver spiraling down his spine like a knife.
"The new Dark Lord King will rise from the ashes of the weak. You will wield power no mere mortal dares dream of. Your enemies will fall like chaff before your storm."
The shadowed figure extended a clawed hand, black as a raven's wing, tipped with faint ethereal smoke spiraling from its fingertips.
"All you must do is become mine."
Lucian shook his head, voice a choking whisper. "I… I don't want to lose myself."
The creature laughed, a sound like cracking ice tearing apart a frozen lake.
"Lost? No. You will be reborn. Forged in sorrow and flame, set loose to rule or destroy as you command."
It leaned close, voice like silk wrapping around iron.
"The power I offer is not a curse but your salvation. One bargain, and the chains that bind you and your family will shatter."
Lucian's head spun with visions—he saw himself burning through the guards, tearing down walls built on lies, bending time and fates to his will.
The whispers of vengeance stoked a wild fire deep in his chest.
His brother's small voice trembled through the shadows.
Lucian shook himself, eyes wild with desperation.
"I'm alone. I'm broken. I don't know how to be strong. I want to—"
"Let me help you."
The figure's voice was velvet dark, tugging him deeper into a spiraling abyss.
"Swear to me…"
Lucian hesitated, every instinct screaming to run from the monstrous offer. But beneath the fear was the dragging weight of emptiness—of nothingness with no hope but this terrible promise.
He looked at his brother, fragile and shaken.
His voice cracked, barely more than a rasp:
"If I say yes… what happens to me? To us?"
The dark being's smile widened, teeth glistening in the gloom.
"You will walk the ashes of your enemies as master. The blood of every child bound by fate will carry your legacy. They will follow your lineage until the end of days. Power will bleed through your veins like wildfire."
It extended its hand again.
"Deal with me, and every scar will become a crown."
Lucian's heart thudded like a war drum in his chest. Sweat slicked his palms around his brother's shaking shoulders.
This was more than choice—it was the abyss or the void.
Torn between despair and the flicker of hope, Lucian reached out—fingers trembling—in answer.
The shadow's claws brushed his palm. Cold as death and sharp as the edge of eternity.
A whisper echoed in the night air:
"Welcome, Dark Lord. Your reign begins."
Suddenly, the river behind them surged—an unnatural dark wave crashing upward, swirling like an ocean of ink.
Lucian's vision blurred as the shadows enveloped him, cold and infinite.
He heard his brother's panicked cry lost in the storm.
And then—
The world went black.
The shadow's claws tightened briefly around Lucian's trembling hand, cold as the grave and sharp as broken glass. A ripple of icy fire slid up his arm, slicing through the numbness that had hollowed his soul these past days.
Lucian's vision spun; the mist thickened and twisted as if the night itself had come alive and bowed to this terrible figure.
"Say the words," it whispered, voice like velvet over a blade. "Speak your oath and grasp the power long denied you."
Lucian's throat tightened, his breath shallow and ragged — a war raging between instinct and desperation, between the frail rebel inside and the abyss that beckoned him.
His eyes flicked to his brother curled shakily in his arms. Innocence, trust, and broken hope in those small, weary eyes.
"Do you promise?" the figure pressed, unyielding, the void of its face swallowing the faint silver of the moonlight.
Lucian felt the weight of all he had lost, every blow struck, every tear spilled, every helpless moment that had crushed him beneath its cold heel.
His body shuddered like a leaf torn in a violent storm.
"I… I do," he whispered, voice cracking. "I swear it."
The moment he spoke, the air around them thickened. The river's surface roiled, black waves surging upward, encircling them in a maw of living shadow.
The creature's smile widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth gleaming in the dark.
"Good," it said. "Your fate is sealed. The pact is bound."
Lucian felt a searing jolt, as if his veins were flooded with molten iron. Pain and power merged—a brutal forging of spirit and flesh.
A low growl, deeper than any earthly sound, vibrated under his skin and spread like wildfire through his core.
The world shimmered as if torn between two realms—one foot in the crumbling city of mortals, the other in a dark court where ancient shadows twisted in their eternal dance.
Lucian's mind flared with visions—of fire and steel, of blood-soaked lands ruled by darkness and iron will.
He saw himself standing tall, towering over his enemies, his fists glowing with infernal energy, a dark crown burning atop his head.
His mother's craving eyes, once lifeless, bloomed faintly with hope.
His brother, stronger now, standing at his side as a shield and sword.
But beneath the grandeur, a whisper slithered in his soul—a shadowed voice murmuring warnings wrapped in velvet honey.
"Power demands sacrifice. Every gain is paid with loss. Every crown weighs with shadows."
Lucian gasped, staggering backward, clutching his chest.
"Who… who are you really?" he demanded, voice hoarse. Fear and hunger twisted into an impossible mix.
The creature bent close, darkness pooling at his throat like liquid night.
"I am the truth behind every lie you have ever been told—the price of survival in a world ruled by men who crush the weak."
It leaned lower.
"You asked who I am, child of sorrow. I am the choice you never thought could exist—the one no man dares voice. I am the fire burning the chains you wear."
Lucian's fists clenched, his nails scraping hot counterpoints against his skin.
The moonlight caught the faintest flicker in the creature's heads—something almost human in the swirling depths of its void-black eyes—but the smile remained cruel and endless, sharp as shattered glass.
"You are mine now, Lucian," it whispered.
"In time, you will walk among kings and devils alike. Your enemies will kneel or burn beneath you. But beware…"
It raised a clawed finger, trailing a thin line of black smoke that writhed and morphed into half-seen, whispering faces.
"Power bends the soul—or shatters it."
Lucian's knees buckled and he almost collapsed, but the creature's smoke-coil wrapped around him like a tether, gritty and cold.
"Choose your path. The Dark Lord or the broken man."
Tears spilled from Lucian's eyes, not of sorrow—but fiery determination no one had ever seen before.
"I choose to live."
The creature's claws released him, fading slowly like a nightmare retreating with dawn.
Lucian sank to his knees by the swollen riverbank, clutching his brother harder than ever.
His heart a thunderous drum, wild and fierce.
Though he had pledged his soul, nothing had changed yet—or had it?
The night was silent now, but Lucian felt eyes watching from the waiting shadows.
Unseen forces stirred.
He was no longer just a broken boy.
He was something far more dangerous.
The Morning After: Shadows in the Sunlight
Dawn crept weakly over the slate rooftops and battered streets of the city. Pale light spilled across the squalid lane where Lucian and his brother huddled beneath a tattered blanket. The river's breath was quiet and dark, a mirror to the storm still roiling inside him.
His brother's soft breaths calmed the edge of his rage, but Lucian's mind raced.
Was the devil's bargain truly salvation or the beginning of endless torment?
As the first street vendors cried their meager wares and the city stirred to another grim day, Lucian felt the subtle weight of unseen eyes. Fingers upon his spirit—gentle but unyielding reminders of the pact made beneath the night's merciless sky.
With his brother beside him, helpless but alive, Lucian's resolve coiled tighter.
One day, he would claim what was his.
One day, the balance would break.