The Varaksha’s Curse

Malrik stood within the highest chamber of Duskholde Keep, the flickering violet flames casting eerie shadows on the black stone walls. Before him, the Obsidian Altar pulsed with dark energy, each rune carved into its surface humming with barely contained power.

Lyssara had done well.

Kiran was wavering.

The whispers of the Echoes had planted the first seeds of doubt. Now, Malrik only needed to push him further.

He turned as Lyssara entered, her crimson robes flowing behind her. She knelt before him, her expression composed. "The whispers have reached him."

Malrik's lips curled. "And how did he react?"

"He is questioning Khyros. Questioning everything."

Malrik chuckled, the sound low and deliberate. "Good. Now it is time for the next step."

He turned toward the far end of the chamber, where the Voidgate lay—a swirling vortex of inky darkness, contained within a circle of obsidian pillars.

Beyond it, something stirred.

Something ancient.

Something waiting.

Malrik raised a hand, and the Voidgate pulsed in response. "Send in the Night Reapers."

Lyssara hesitated for the first time. "The Night Reapers are unpredictable. They hunger for chaos."

"Exactly," Malrik said smoothly. "Kiran needs to feel cornered. He needs to believe that his only path forward is the one we have prepared for him."

Lyssara's gaze flickered toward the Voidgate. The Night Reapers were not mere assassins—they were creatures bound to the Ashen Circle, cursed beings that fed on fear and desperation. Once released, they would hunt Kiran without mercy.

She exhaled and bowed. "As you command."

Malrik stepped forward, placing both hands on the altar. Dark energy rippled outward, sending a deep vibration through the room. The air grew heavy, thick with the weight of unseen forces.

His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it echoed with power.

"From the depths of shadow, I call you forth. Rise, hunters of the void. Seek him. Break him. Bind him to the darkness."

A low, guttural howl answered him.

From the depths of the Voidgate, black figures began to emerge—tall, gaunt, and wreathed in living shadow. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural hunger, their elongated fingers curling like sharpened claws.

The Night Reapers had awakened.

Malrik watched them step into the mortal world, their movements fluid yet unnatural, like shifting smoke. He smiled, satisfied.

"Kiran will not escape this time."

Lyssara inclined her head. "And if he defeats them?"

Malrik's smile didn't falter. "Then he will prove he is ready for what comes next."

Because in the end, this was never just about killing Kiran.

This was about breaking him.

And when he stood at the edge of ruin, when all paths seemed lost…

That was when Malrik would offer him salvation.

That was when Kiran would choose the darkness himself.

To Be Continued…