The Varaksha’s Curse

The Ashen Circle's lair was a place of shadows and echoes, hidden deep within the mountains where light dared not intrude. In its heart, Malrik sat on a stone throne carved with dark runes, his crimson eyes narrowed in contemplation. His staff, once a symbol of his authority and power, lay shattered at his feet.

He clenched his fists, feeling the sting of defeat as if it were a fresh wound. "The boy…" Malrik hissed under his breath, his voice laced with venom. "A mere fledgling, and yet he managed to best me."

Around him, the whispers of his followers filled the air, their figures shifting like smoke in the dim light. They murmured of failure, of the Watcher's growing strength, and the beast that stood by his side.

"Enough," Malrik snapped, his voice cutting through the whispers like a blade. The shadows recoiled, silent and obedient.

From the darkness, a figure stepped forward—a woman clad in flowing robes of black and crimson, her face hidden behind a mask adorned with ancient symbols. She bowed low before Malrik.

"Master, the loss of the Void Shard is regrettable, but it is not the end," she said, her voice smooth and composed. "The boy may have the shard, but he does not yet understand its true power. That ignorance is our advantage."

Malrik's eyes flickered with interest. "Speak, Lyssara. What do you propose?"

Lyssara straightened, her masked face tilting toward him. "The Void Shard is but one piece of the whole. If we cannot reclaim it, we must ensure that he cannot unlock its full potential. There are… ways to corrupt the shard, to twist its energy against him."

Malrik leaned forward, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Corruption, you say? That would not only weaken the boy but make the shard useless to him. Do you have the means to accomplish this?"

Lyssara nodded. "There are ancient rituals, long forgotten by the Watchers but preserved in our archives. With your permission, I will begin the preparations."

Malrik rose from his throne, the shadows around him swirling with renewed energy. "Do it. And while you prepare, I will ensure that the boy and his beast are kept busy."

He turned to the shadows, addressing his unseen followers. "Summon the Scourge. The time has come to unleash our ancient warriors. They will hunt the boy, weaken him, and force him to reveal his vulnerabilities. Let him know that the Ashen Circle is always watching."

The shadows stirred, and a low, guttural growl echoed through the chamber as a monstrous figure emerged. The Scourge was a towering abomination, its body a twisted amalgamation of flesh and shadow, its eyes burning with malevolence.

"The Scourge will not fail me," Malrik said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Unlike you."

The Scourge bowed its monstrous head, its voice a rumble that reverberated through the lair. "The Watcher and his beast will fall, my lord."

Malrik waved a hand. "Go. Do not return until the shard is mine or the boy is dead."

The Scourge vanished into the shadows, its form dissolving like smoke.

As the lair fell silent once more, Lyssara stepped closer to Malrik. "The corruption of the shard will take time, my lord. The rituals require rare materials and precise alignment. We may need to venture into the Void Plains to obtain what is necessary."

Malrik's expression darkened. The Void Plains were a place of chaos and danger, even for one as powerful as him. But the thought of defeating the boy and reclaiming the shard outweighed any hesitation.

"Then do what must be done," he said. "And ensure that no one interferes."

Lyssara bowed again. "It will be as you command, my lord."

Later, in the solitude of his throne room, Malrik stared at the shards of his broken staff. His anger simmered, but beneath it was a flicker of something deeper—fear.

The boy had tapped into the power of the Watchers, a power Malrik had thought long extinguished. If the boy grew stronger, if he uncovered the full potential of the Void Shard…

No. Malrik would not allow it.

He rose from his throne, his crimson eyes blazing. "You may have won this battle, Watcher," he muttered, his voice dripping with malice. "But the war is far from over. I will see to it that your precious shard becomes your undoing."

As the shadows coiled around him, Malrik began to chant, summoning an ancient spell that would weave his will into the Void itself. The Watcher would soon learn that the Ashen Circle did not forgive—and it did not forget.

To be continued…