I woke with a start, my body slick with sweat. Ash and fog clung to my skin, the satchel pressed hard against my chest. My lungs heaved, rattled by the remnants of sleep that felt more like a fevered nightmare than rest. Flashes of the Rift came unbidden—Scarface's grin, the scavengers' screams, their faces twisted in terror—and over it all, a silver pulse, faint and insistent.
"You remember them," Vaelor whispered. The voice was sharper now, pressing at the edges of my mind. "Good. Remember. You will need this."
I bolted upright, hands shaking, eyes darting across the ruin of the watchtower. The fog outside the broken walls seemed alive, curling into shapes that weren't there, shadows whispering in voices I didn't want to hear. My fingers tightened on the satchel.
I can't let this happen again. I can't…
I set it down, hesitating, then, trembling, reached out. I wanted—needed—to try. Just a small test. I focused on the fallen rock by my feet. A tiny, quivering shard of light spilled from Lunaris. It wavered, unsteady, flickering like a flame in a storm. My breath caught as the shard lifted, hovering an inch above the stone. My fingers twitched, and the shard jerked wildly, spinning away from my control.
A metallic clink echoed behind me. My head whipped around. A scavenger patrol? My heart slammed against my ribs.
The shard of light streaked forward like a dart, slamming into a loose beam of wood. It splintered, sending shards clattering to the ground. My chest heaved, and I realized I was holding my breath.
"Weakness is death," Vaelor whispered, his voice closer now, invasive. "Obey… or perish."
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my shaking hands. This wasn't a game. Every time I tried to direct the artifact, every flicker of silver energy threatened to throw me into chaos. And yet… the power was intoxicating.
I needed to move, to stretch, to test it in action.
I grabbed a discarded log and focused, imagining it spinning across the ruined courtyard. Lunaris pulsed violently, a tendril of light erupting from the satchel. The log rocketed forward—then ricocheted off the wall, smashing into the ground. I stumbled backward, nearly falling over the remnants of a stone column.
A howl sliced through the fog—a low, guttural sound, gutted from the throat of something hungry. My stomach flipped. Wolves? No… too calculated, too coordinated. My breath caught as a pack of four dark shapes slinked out of the mist, low to the ground, eyes reflecting silver in the fading light.
I froze. They advanced, teeth bared, low snarls vibrating through the air.
Vaelor's whisper slithered into my mind, silk over steel: "Kill them. Move. Fight. Claim it."
I scrambled, gripping the satchel. The artifact responded, tendrils of silver light flickering outward, slashing at the first wolf. It yelped, retreating, but two others lunged at me. I swung my dagger, missing by inches as the tendrils reacted unpredictably, knocking one wolf into another. Wood and stone erupted from the ground as Lunaris lashed out, but I had no control over its strikes.
I stumbled backward, heart hammering, lungs burning, and tripped over a jagged rock. One wolf lunged for my ankle—teeth snapping. Instinctively, I yanked the satchel. A tendril shot out, wrapping around the wolf midair and hurling it into the fog. Its scream echoed, but two wolves were still charging.
I ran. My boots tore across ash and stone, each step punctuated by the erratic pulses of Lunaris. Tendrils whipped around me, knocking wolves aside, sometimes missing entirely. I barely had time to dodge a swipe of a jagged branch propelled by the artifact, my ribs screaming in protest.
I slammed into a fallen pillar, pain searing along my side. The satchel clattered from my hands. I lunged, fingers brushing it just in time. Lunaris pulsed furiously, silver streaks illuminating the mist.
The wolves hesitated for a heartbeat, snarling, retreating slightly, and then pressed again. My dagger barely cut through the air as the artifact surged. Tendrils shot out, lashing, wrapping, smashing. I hit one wolf across the jaw with a flying piece of debris, and it yelped, staggering back. Another tendril caught the last wolf, pinning it to a crumbling wall, teeth snapping in midair as Lunaris flung it aside like a ragdoll.
I collapsed, gasping, clutching the satchel. Sweat, blood, and ash coated me, my chest heaving. My hands shook violently.
"You are not in control," Vaelor's voice hissed inside my mind, velvet and venom. "The Echo shapes you. Feel it. Learn it. Obey… or die."
I pressed my forehead against the cold stone wall, fighting the rising panic. I couldn't control it. The artifact had saved me, yes—but barely, and only because it decided to act. My instincts had been guided by Lunaris, not my own skill. The wolves lay scattered and whimpering in the fog, but the victory felt hollow.
Tears pricked my eyes. Am I becoming a monster? The thought clawed at my skull. I had barely survived a small pack of wolves, yet inside me, the artifact pulsed with a power that could have wiped them out in seconds. And it had mocked me, its tendrils striking wildly, ignoring my intentions.
I clutched the satchel tighter, shaking. "I—I don't want this," I whispered. "I just… I just want to survive."
"Obedience is survival," Vaelor purred, a dark promise threading through his words. "And if you survive… you will never be the same."
The mist seemed to pulse in tandem with Lunaris, wrapping around me like the tendrils themselves, alive and watching. My chest tightened. I had survived, yes—but at what cost? Every pulse of the artifact left a mark on me, shaping my reflexes, my thoughts, my instincts. I realized then that it wasn't just a tool. It wasn't even a weapon.
It was a teacher.
And teachers didn't ask. They commanded.
I forced myself to my feet, still trembling. The fog stretched before me, silver-lit by the artifact, obscuring the world beyond. I knew that somewhere in that haze were dangers waiting—Imperial scouts, rival scavengers, perhaps creatures worse than wolves, or monsters I hadn't even imagined.
And Lunaris would be there, too. Waiting, testing, teaching… shaping.
I took a deep breath, heart hammering. The artifact's pulse was like a drum in my veins. I could feel it trying to guide me, to whisper tactics, strategies, movements. But the control wasn't mine. Not yet.
I glanced at the horizon, a sliver of orange and gray bleeding through the mist. My body ached, every muscle screaming, but I clenched the satchel against my chest.
I will survive, I whispered, more to myself than to Vaelor. I have to.
The silver pulse flared violently, and a whisper, low and intimate, filled my mind:
"I will teach you. And when I do… you will never be the same."
I froze, every nerve on fire. The fog shifted. The horizon trembled. The world felt impossibly large, impossibly alive—and I was just beginning to understand how small my control truly was.
But I was not running anymore.
Not entirely.