Magnus's eyes widened as the black liquid pooled around him, its darkness sucking the very light from the chamber. It felt alive, sentient, and desperate to consume him whole. The air thickened with a suffocating pressure, and the walls seemed to pulse, closing in as the cursed substance crept up his legs and spiraled around his body like tendrils of night.
He had no choice but to fight, but the more he struggled, the more the liquid tightened its grip. It wasn't just the flesh it wanted—it wanted his soul. A distant voice echoed through his mind, tempting and cruel.
You are not in control, Magnus Varik. You never were. The key is in your blood. Let it in. Let it claim you.
The shard pulsed violently within him, a constant thrum that matched the rapid beat of his heart. The power it offered was undeniable, but it came with a cost—a price he was not sure he was ready to pay.
"Kiera!" he roared, but his voice was lost beneath the gurgling hiss of the dark pool.
The others were struggling too, barely visible in the thickening shadows. Kiera's daggers flashed as she fought the tendrils that sought to bind her. Jakob's spear, shimmering with runic power, cracked the surface of the liquid with each strike, but the tendrils merely regenerated, twisting and reforming with terrifying speed.
"Magnus!" Kiera shouted, her voice tinged with desperation. "You have to fight it! The shard... you need to destroy it!"
Her words barely registered in his mind as his vision blurred, the pain from his scar flaring in time with the shard's pulse. Images danced before his eyes—his father's face twisted in agony, the Citadel's towering walls casting their shadow over everything he had ever known. Then, Isabella's face appeared, her silver eyes filled with an ancient sorrow, the pendant she had worn glowing with an eerie light.
"You are bound to this," she whispered to him. "The Citadel will never let you go."
Magnus struggled to tear himself free, but his limbs felt as though they were being weighed down by lead. His wolf form was trying to claw its way to the surface, the beast within him yearning to break free. The darkness was so close, threatening to consume him entirely.
Then, with a savage roar, he tore through the tendrils with claws bared, his golden eyes flashing with rage. The liquid recoiled as though in fear, but the darkness did not release him. It tightened its hold, a thousand whispers clawing at his mind, telling him to give in.
The shard's pulse became a deafening drumbeat, and Magnus's body responded as though it were no longer his own. His breath came in ragged gasps as the power of the Citadel surged within him. Every part of him, human and wolf alike, burned with the hunger of the void, demanding that he claim it.
"Magnus!" Kiera's voice cut through the haze, a beacon of clarity in the storm. "The curse—"
He turned, eyes wide with realization, and grabbed for the shard that lay just beyond his reach. It hovered in the air, glowing with an otherworldly light, but as his fingers brushed it, a surge of dark energy exploded outward, knocking him back into the black pool.
The figure of the chasm loomed before him, its bone mask cracked, revealing a dark eye that burned with unholy fire. The figure raised its staff, and the temperature in the room plummeted, the shadows stretching unnaturally as though alive.
"You cannot escape, Magnus Varik," the figure hissed, its voice echoing in his mind. "The Citadel is your cage. You belong to it now."
Magnus snarled, his claws digging into the stone beneath him as he tried to rise. The beast within him raged against the confines of the pool, its hunger now a desperate, howling need for the power of the shard. But Magnus fought against it, refusing to surrender.
With a primal scream, he shattered the silence, his form shifting in an instant as he transformed into the wolf. His fur erupted, golden and thick, as his body surged with raw strength. The chasm figure recoiled, but its hold over the liquid did not break.
"I will not be your puppet," Magnus growled, his voice now deep and guttural, a perfect blend of man and beast.
The figure advanced, but Magnus was faster. He leapt, claws extended, slashing through the air and tearing into the figure's ghostly form. The darkness hissed in pain, but the figure's mask remained unbroken, its dark eye blazing with fury.
The battle raged as the pool continued to writhe, sending tendrils lashing out to ensnare them. Kiera's voice cut through the chaos, but Magnus could not hear her over the roar of the void that threatened to swallow everything. He was beyond it now—beyond the shard, beyond the curse, beyond the Citadel itself.
For the first time, he understood the true meaning of the darkness. It was not just a force to be fought; it was a force that sought to devour the very essence of what made him who he was.
But Magnus was not ready to give in. Not yet. Not ever.
With a final, ferocious strike, he shattered the figure's mask, sending a shockwave of energy that shattered the pool, splintering the walls and breaking the darkness's grip on his body.
The Citadel still hung over them, its influence far from vanquished. But for now, Magnus had reclaimed a small piece of himself. And that would have to be enough.