The morning air was thick with the scent of damp earth and crushed herbs, the Silver Grove stirring to life around them as Eryk stood at the edge of the training grounds. Birdsong wove through the rustling leaves, a delicate counterpoint to the distant rush of the river. The sky above was a pale, washed-out blue, streaked with the last remnants of dawn's blush.
His muscles still ached from yesterday's torment, every movement a reminder of Eldrin's relentless drills. His shoulders burned, his legs trembled, and his hands—still raw from gripping the wooden practice sword—throbbed with every flex of his fingers. But today was different.
Today, they would touch magic.
Eryk exhaled slowly, watching his breath mist in the cool air. Beside him, Sera shifted, her boot scuffing against the moss-covered ground. She had her arms crossed, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against her elbow. The borrowed elven robes—dark blue and edged with silver—clung to her frame, but her scowl was pure Veldros.
"You look like you're about to piss yourself!" she muttered, not looking at him.
Eryk shot her a sidelong glance. "And you look like you're about to stab someone!"
She smirked. "Maybe I am."
Before he could retort, the air shifted. A presence, quiet but undeniable, settled over them like a weight.
Eldrin stood before them, his silver hair catching the dawn light, his expression unreadable. His robes, woven from threads that shimmered like starlight, shifted with every breath of wind, as if the very air obeyed him. His eyes were as pale as frost, and held no warmth, only calculation.
"Magic," he began, his voice low and measured, "is not a tool. It is not a weapon. It is an extension of the self, a whisper of the soul given form."
Eryk swallowed, his fingers twitching at his sides. The Null Grimoire pulsed inside him, a dark, restless thing, coiled around his ribs like a serpent. He could feel it even now, stirring in response to Eldrin's words.
Control it, he thought. Or it will control you.
Sera scoffed.
"So what? We wave our hands and flowers bloom?"
Eldrin's lips curled, just slightly. "If only it were so simple."
He turned to Eryk, and the weight of that gaze made his skin prickle.
"You first."
Eryk's stomach dropped.
Eldrin led him to a circle of smooth stones embedded in the moss, their surfaces etched with runes that hummed faintly underfoot. The air here was charged, thick with something Eryk couldn't name.
"Sit," Eldrin commanded.
Eryk obeyed, his legs folding beneath him. The stone was cool against his palms, the runes beneath his fingers throbbing like a heartbeat. He glanced up, searching for reassurance, but Eldrin's face gave nothing away.
Ares, perched on a nearby stump, watched with unblinking golden eyes.
"Do not die," the dragon offered helpfully.
Eryk shot him a glare. "Thanks. Really comforting."
Ares flicked his tail.
"I am a very comforting presence."
Eldrin ignored them, kneeling across from Eryk, his gaze piercing.
"The Null Grimoire is not just a book. It is a force—a void that consumes. To wield it, you must first understand it."
Eryk's throat tightened. "And how do I do that?"
"By listening."
Eldrin placed a hand on Eryk's chest, right over the scar where the Grimoire had burrowed into him. The touch was light, but it burned—not with heat, but with something that made Eryk's bones vibrate.
Then the world shifted.
Darkness.
Not the gentle dark of night, but a yawning, endless void. A place where light went to die. Eryk gasped, but no sound escaped. He couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe.
And then, he heard them.
Whispers.
They slithered through the black, voices without sound, words without meaning. They coiled around him, through him, into him. The Null Grimoire wasn't just inside him. It was him.
"You are nothing," the voices hissed. "Avessel. A shell. We will fill you, break you, remake you—"
Eryk tried to scream, but the void swallowed the sound. He clawed at the darkness, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to fight. Only the whispers, growing louder, sharper, digging into his mind like hooks.
"You think you are strong? You think you can wield us? You are dust! You are nothing!"
Images flashed—memories, but twisted. His mother's face, dissolving into shadow. His own hands, blackened and cracking like burnt paper. Ares, his golden eyes dimming as his body crumbled to ash.
"This is what awaits you," the voices crooned. "This is your fate!"
Eryk's heart hammered, his chest burning. He wanted to run, to fight, to escape—
Then, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Enough."
A single word, but it shattered the void like glass.
Eryk came back to himself on the ground, his chest heaving, his fingers clawing at the moss as if he could anchor himself to the earth. Eldrin's hand was still on his chest, but the burning had faded, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache.
Ares was at his side in an instant, wings flared, smoke curling from his nostrils.
"Eryk!"
Sera was there too, her usual sneer replaced by something like fear. "What the hell was that?!"
Eryk shuddered, his voice hoarse. "That wasn't a lesson! That was torture!"
Eldrin withdrew his hand, his expression unreadable.
"Pain is the best teacher."
Sera's fists clenched. "You could have killed him!"
"No," Eldrin said calmly. "I showed him the truth. The Grimoire is not just power. It is hunger. And if he does not learn to master it, it will devour him whole."
Eryk's breath came in short, ragged gasps. The whispers still echoed in his skull, their words clinging like poison.
You are nothing.
Ares nuzzled his cheek, his scales warm against Eryk's skin.
"You are not nothing."
Eryk closed his eyes.
He wasn't sure he believed that.
Eldrin turned to Sera next, his gaze assessing. "Your core."
Sera stiffened.
"What about it?"
"It was taken from you. But the earth remembers it. It remembers you."
She scoffed. "Poetic. But I don't need pretty words!"
Eldrin's lips twitched. "Then kneel."
Sera looked like she wanted to argue, but the hunger in her eyes won out. With a muttered curse, she dropped to her knees in the circle.
Eldrin placed a hand on her shoulder.
"The earth is patient. It does not rush. It does not force. It waits."
Sera's jaw clenched. "I'm not patient."
"No," Eldrin agreed. "But you are stubborn. And that will do."
He pressed his palm to the ground. The runes flared, their light spreading through the moss like veins of gold. The earth beneath Sera trembled—not violently, but softly, as if stirring from sleep.
A warmth bloomed in Eryk's chest. A flicker of something foreign yet familiar. The stolen earth core, nestled beside the Grimoire, pulsed in response.
Sera gasped, her hands flying to her stomach. "I—I can feel it."
Eldrin nodded. "The connection is still there. Faint, but alive."
Sera's fingers curled into fists. "Then give it back."
"Not yet."
Her head snapped up. "What?"
Eldrin's voice was calm. "You are not ready. The core is not a trinket to be reclaimed. It is a bond. And bonds require trust."
Sera's eyes burned. "I don't do trust!"
"Then you will never wield it properly."
For a moment, Eryk thought she might lunge at Eldrin. But then her shoulders slumped, just slightly, and she looked away.
Eryk understood. The earth core was her dream. Her way out of the Ashen District, her proof that she was more than the dirt she'd crawled from. And now it was so close, yet still out of reach.
Ares, ever observant, tilted his head. "Humans are so dramatic!"
Sera flipped him off.
Eryk let out a shaky laugh, but the weight of the Grimoire's whispers still pressed against his ribs.
This was only the beginning...