The Varaksha’s Curse

The chamber was dimly lit, its walls carved from obsidian so dark it seemed to devour the flickering torchlight. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a pungent mix of myrrh and something far less natural.

At the center of the room, Malrik stood before the Void Mirror—an ancient, fractured obsidian slab that reflected not his own face, but distant images from the world beyond.

His fingers curled against the edge of the mirror as he watched.

Kiran.

Still standing.

Still himself.

A slow, cold fury spread through Malrik's chest.

The Hollow Mark should have taken root by now. The poison of the Night Reapers was designed to do more than wound—it was meant to unravel the soul, twist the mind into servitude.

But Kiran was resisting.

A Plan Unraveling

Malrik's jaw tightened as he observed the Seeker of Forgotten Truths—Selmira.

He recognized her kind. The Seekers were a dying breed, scavengers of lost knowledge who thought themselves above the wars of gods and monsters. Yet here she was, interfering.

And worse, she had given Kiran the vial.

A temporary fix. A means to slow the corruption.

But the real threat was what she had revealed.

"The Void Shard."

Malrik's eyes darkened.

If Kiran truly sought that ancient relic, then things were about to spiral beyond even his calculations.

The Void Shard was not just an artifact of power. It was the key.

The key to breaking the final seal.

Malrik had spent years orchestrating every move, every betrayal, every battle to push Kiran toward an inevitable fate. If he had succumbed to the Hollow Mark, his soul would have fractured, and he would have become a vessel.

But now?

Now, he was walking a different path—one that threatened to unravel everything.

The Growing Storm

A shadow stirred behind him.

Malrik didn't turn. He didn't need to.

"You failed," he said coldly.

A kneeling figure shuddered under his words, bowing lower in the darkness.

"The Night Reapers did as commanded," the voice rasped. "He should not have been able to fight it."

"And yet he has," Malrik said, voice like steel.

A tense silence followed.

Malrik exhaled slowly, calculating.

If Kiran was resisting the Hollow Mark, that meant his will was stronger than anticipated. That was… unexpected.

But not unsalvageable.

The Void's corruption could not be halted forever.

If Kiran sought the Void Shard, he would soon realize that the deeper he walked into the darkness, the more it consumed him.

Malrik's lips curled into a cold smirk.

"Let him go to Evernight."

Let him think he had a choice.

Let him think he could fight the inevitable.

The deeper he ventured, the closer he would come to breaking himself.

And when the time was right…

"He will belong to me."

A Shift in the Game

Malrik turned from the Void Mirror, his mind already weaving the next move.

"Send Lyssara," he commanded.

The shadow at his feet shifted. "She is already in place."

Good.

Lyssara knew what had to be done.

If Kiran refused to break, then they would break everything around him.

One way or another, he would fall.

To Be Continued…