Erevan sank onto the cold stone floor, letting his back slide until it pressed fully against the unyielding wall. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest—shoulders raw from training, arms trembling from endless thrusts and parries, legs aching as if each movement had been carved into him by iron. The memory of the day's repetition throbbed in every fiber, but it was nothing compared to the gnawing in his chest—a faint whisper that had grown sharper with every hour, hammering at his ribs like a caged creature desperate to escape.
He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, trying to steady the storm inside. The candle on the table flickered weakly, wax nearly spent, throwing hesitant shadows that trembled like frightened spirits across the chamber. The air was thick with smoke and dust, heavy with the scent of stone that had absorbed centuries of secrets. Silence pressed down on him, oppressive, almost alive, and in that silence, something else began to stir.
You failed them again.
The words were not spoken. They threaded through his mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts, subtle yet insistent. Erevan jerked instinctively, though he knew the voice had always been there—patient, lurking, a shadow under his skin. His chest tightened.
"You're not real," he muttered, voice low and uneven. "You're just… me. My mind breaking."
A soft chuckle rippled through him. No air carried it. No mouth formed it. Just a presence, brushing against his thoughts. Is that what you tell yourself?
Erevan's jaw clenched. I'm not weak. I'm not broken. That's what they say. That's what the Council says.
The voice persisted, relentless and patient. You believe their lies. You believe them because it is easier than looking at yourself. But you are not broken, Erevan. You are unfinished.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers into his temples as if he could physically pinch it into silence.
"Stop," he whispered, almost pleading.
The candle's flame shivered, leaning toward him like it sensed the tension, quivering as though the shadows themselves were alive and breathing. Darkness pooled at his feet, curling upward like smoke. And then, almost tenderly, the voice came again.
She is there.
Erevan froze. Who?
The girl. Aria.
His chest constricted, a mix of frustration, fear, and something he couldn't quite name. The words were intimate, threading around his mind like silk—but each strand carried a sharp edge, a knife hidden in velvet.
She believes she protects you. But protection is a chain when you are meant to soar. Do you not feel it, even when she looks at you? Her fear?
Aria's face flickered in his memory—her eyes sharp, lingering too long, the tiniest hesitation of her hands when she reached toward him, the faint crease between her brows when worry touched her.
"She's not afraid of me," he whispered, almost trying to convince himself. The words felt hollow, even as they left him.
Of course she is. The voice's tone was almost amused. And she should be. All of them should. You are not theirs to bind, not theirs to hide. You are more. And I can show you what lies beyond this cage of stone and silence.
Erevan pressed his forehead to his knees, curling his hands into fists. He wanted to crush the voice, to suffocate it, to erase it. But it only brushed against him, a shadow slipping into every crack, every crevice of his mind.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, voice trembling despite his attempt at control.
Silence stretched, heavy, almost intimate. Then the voice murmured, soft and low: I want what you want. Freedom. Power. The end of this gnawing hunger. Let me in, and I will give you the strength to protect her… or to destroy her, if she ever turns away.
Erevan's heart thundered. Cold violet light began to bleed along the edges of the chamber, crawling up from the floor, pressing against his spine, curling over his shoulders. His chest ached, yet beneath that ache something deeper stirred—a dangerous recognition that made the hair on his neck bristle.
You cannot hide from me. I am already yours. The only choice is when you will stop pretending otherwise.
The candle guttered and died, leaving him in thick, suffocating darkness. Only the faint shimmer of violet traced the edges of the room, whispering against his senses. He didn't dare look. He could feel it, and that alone was enough to make his blood run cold, his mind reel.
He wanted to scream, to curse, to pound against the wall, but he knew he could not. Not yet.
And deep inside, a small, dangerous part of him—the part the voice had already touched—whispered back: perhaps it was meant to be this way.
Erevan's chest rose and fell rapidly. Darkness pressed in, thick and tactile. Violet light brushed his arms and neck, threading through nerves that hummed with power he couldn't name. He hadn't moved, hadn't breathed beyond panic, and yet the voice whispered again, softer this time, coaxing, intimate, brushing the edges of his consciousness like a lover revealing secrets too potent to ignore.
You feel it, don't you?
He swallowed hard, forcing air into lungs that felt suddenly metallic, tight. What do you want from me?
I want to see you unbound. I want to see you rise. I want… to be part of you. The part you try to hide even from yourself.
Erevan flexed his fists against his knees, nails biting into palms. Part of me? I'm not yours. I'm not any part of you.
Oh, Erevan… The voice lingered, soft, coaxing. I am already within you. Every heartbeat you pretend is yours alone… it whispers my name.
He felt it. Wet, shivering, crawling beneath the armor he thought he wore. Infuriating. Terrifying. Undeniably tempting.
The violet shimmer pulsed softly, then sharper, crawling along the stone floor like liquid shadows. Erevan's chest heaved, each breath a battle, each heartbeat echoing in the empty chamber. The voice had shifted—no longer teasing from the edges. It had crept closer, a presence inside him, pressing against thoughts he barely admitted even to himself.
You ache to protect her. Yet every instinct you have screams to break free from the chains they put on you.
Erevan's hands trembled. He pressed them against his knees, nails digging into flesh, grounding himself. I don't want this. I don't want her caught in this. I can't let it happen.
And yet you already feel it. The voice's tone was silk laced with steel. The pull, the hunger, the part of you that wants more than mere obedience, more than mere survival…
Images of Aria flickered through his mind like candlelight: the sharp crease of her brow when she worried, the faint tremble in her fingers as she adjusted her grip on the blade, the almost imperceptible hesitation before she reached toward him.
She sees you.
Erevan's throat tightened. She… she sees me? She doesn't understand. She can't understand.
She understands more than you realize. The voice purred, confident, coaxing. And yet even she cannot control you. Even she cannot touch what lies beneath. She fears it because she senses the strength I offer—and fears what it could take from her.
He ground his teeth, a shiver running down his spine. I don't want to hurt her.
Do you believe that? The voice teased, a whisper curling around his nerves. You want to protect her, yet every instinct inside you screams to rise above these chains. Freedom is not gentle. Power is not kind. And love… A pause, almost theatrical, drawing him into its rhythm. Love can be a cage as easily as it can be a weapon.
The violet light pulsed again, brushing his collarbone, threading through his shoulders, teasing his spine with icy fire. Each flicker made him shiver, each pulse a reminder of the pull beneath the surface.
What are you doing to me? he demanded, voice cracking.
Showing you yourself. The voice was calm, intimate, almost tender. The part that aches to break free. The part that knows she will never fully contain what is meant to be unleashed.
Aria's image hovered at the edge of his mind—too close to the training dummy, lips pressed thin, eyes sharp, trembling only slightly. The memory struck him, a pang of desire and fear intertwined.
She doesn't belong in this world, not like you. Erevan muttered under his breath, almost ashamed of the longing it stirred. I could never… I could never hurt her…
Could you? The voice's whisper was both ice and flame, curling around his thoughts. If she falters, if she fails to see you as you are… would you protect her, or would you unleash what hides behind these hands?
His knees trembled. Cold violet light spread, snaking along his spine, around his shoulders, into his chest. It pressed against him like a living thing, a mixture of agony and exhilaration. His mind grasped at control, but the voice threaded deeper, coaxing, intimate.
I'm not ready, he breathed aloud, voice shaking. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for you.
And yet… The voice softened, brushing along his thoughts like a lover leaning close. And yet it is already here. Every heartbeat carries me further. Every breath you take feeds what you will not admit you need.
Erevan's chest heaved. He pressed his hands to his face, fingers trembling. The chamber was heavy with darkness, yet the violet shimmer glowed faintly through his fingers, alive, electric. The air smelled of stone and ash, and something intangible—something electric, sentient.
I will not let this consume me… he whispered, fragile armor of words around his heart. I will not be yours.
You already are. The voice breathed, fading into the shadows but leaving its presence everywhere. The only choice left is when you will stop pretending otherwise.
A pulse of violet light thrummed once, deep, echoing in the stone, like a heartbeat just beyond reach. Erevan sat in the darkness, trembling, exhausted, but more alive than he had ever been. The chamber felt smaller, tighter, pressing against him—but the hunger beneath the surface, the pull he could not fight, had grown sharper, intimate, undeniable.
And somewhere, deep within himself, a dangerous clarity struck him: nothing would ever be the same.
he violet shimmer grew, curling across the stone like living smoke, wrapping around Erevan's limbs and spine, teasing his nerves with icy fire and warmth all at once. It pressed close, intimate, coaxing, yet sharp, a reminder of everything he wanted and feared.
You can resist me, the voice whispered, silk over steel. But every second you do, the pull grows stronger. Every beat of your heart, every ragged breath, carries me further into you.
Erevan's fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. He felt the sharp bite of the light on his skin, the thrumming of power beneath the floor vibrating through his bones. I will not… I will not… His voice was ragged, trembling. I am not yours.
You already are. The voice slid into his mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts, brushing along the edges of his fear, his longing, his desire. Do you feel it? The part you hide, the part you deny even to yourself. That part is mine.
His chest heaved. He pressed his forehead into his knees, trying to block the pull, trying to ground himself. But images of Aria flared, sharp as sunlight: the way her eyes lingered when she thought he wasn't looking, the subtle tremor in her hands when she worried, the way her lips pressed together in silent determination.
She cannot hold you, the voice murmured, coaxing, almost tender. Not fully. And yet… she awakens something in you that even I cannot touch. That desire, that care… it is precious, fragile, and yet it makes you stronger.
Erevan's heart thundered, a violent drum echoing in the empty chamber. The violet shimmer pulsed harder, climbing higher along his shoulders, pressing against his chest. He could feel it in his veins, cold fire sliding along nerves that buzzed with anticipation and terror.
What do you want from me? he demanded, voice cracking. Why are you here?
To show you yourself, the voice replied softly. The part of you that aches to break free. The part that knows she will never contain what is meant to be unleashed. I am not the cage. I am the key.
Erevan's chest tightened. I don't want to hurt her. I… I cannot… His knees trembled beneath him. The shimmer crept over his collarbone, up his neck, a delicate knife-edge brushing against his senses. I'm not ready…
And yet you are. The voice whispered closer, almost intimate, a caress in the dark. You are always already ready. The choice is only yours to admit it.
A single pulse of violet light swept through the chamber, flooding the stone with a hue both terrifying and intoxicating. Erevan flinched, but did not pull away. The voice's tendrils of thought wrapped tighter, curling around his memories, his doubts, his desires.
You feel it, don't you? The voice purred. That hunger, that pull. The part you hide even from yourself. That part is mine. That part is you.
He swallowed hard, forcing air into lungs that felt suddenly metallic, tight. His body ached with exhaustion, yet beneath that pain, a dangerous exhilaration throbbed. The pull was a fire, a temptation he could neither resist nor fully deny.
I will not… I will not… His whispered mantra faltered, drowned beneath the pressure, the violet light, the presence that pressed into every corner of him.
You already are. The voice's tone softened, fading into the shadows but leaving its mark everywhere, lingering in his chest, his bones, his thoughts. The only question now is when you will stop pretending otherwise.
Erevan's eyes fluttered open to the darkness around him, violet light tracing edges of stone like veins of power. The chamber felt smaller, oppressive, alive, but he could not move. Could not breathe freely. Could only sit, trembling, heart hammering.
And yet beneath the terror, beneath the pull, a spark of something unshakable remained: a recognition, a sharp, dangerous clarity that twisted through him like a blade. Nothing would ever be the same.
The shadows whispered, the violet shimmer lingered, curling over the floor and walls, waiting, patient, inevitable. Erevan exhaled sharply, the sound ragged, uneven, and somewhere deep within, he knew the game had only begun.
This is only the beginning, the voice breathed, leaving no sound, only presence. And you already belong to it.
Erevan's fingers dug into his knees. His chest rose and fell rapidly. The darkness pressed closer, yet the pull within, the hunger, the voice—it was alive, and waiting, and undeniably his.
He did not move. He did not speak. He only felt, trembled, and waited, knowing that the moment of choice—of surrender or control—was yet to come.
And the violet shimmer pulsed once more, strong, lingering, a heartbeat beyond reach, leaving Erevan trembling, exhausted, terrified—and alive.