The night was restless.

  Lucian lay in bed, staring at the flickering lantern overhead, but sleep did not come. His body ached with exhaustion, yet his mind would not quiet. Aldric’s words echoed in his head—A weapon forged within your Ascen... the embodiment of your soul.

  What did that mean for him? Was his Relicarn truly stirring, or was it just wishful thinking?

  He exhaled sharply and sat up. The small church chamber was quiet, save for the crackling fire in the hearth. Across the room, Aldric was awake as well, sitting with his back to Lucian, sharpening a worn dagger. The old man spoke without turning around.

  “You’re thinking too much.”

  Lucian ran a hand through his hair. “Hard not to.”

  Aldric chuckled. “Good. Means you’re taking this seriously. But thinking won’t help you find your Relicarn. Feeling will.”

  Lucian frowned. “And how exactly do I do that?”

  Aldric finally turned to face him, tapping the dagger against his palm. “Come with me.”

  They stepped outside into the cold night air. The sky above was a vast abyss of stars, the wind carrying the distant howl of wolves through the trees. Aldric led him to a clearing behind the church, where a lone, withered tree stood, its bark gnarled and split with age.

  “Your Ascen is already growing,” Aldric said, gesturing to the tree. “But if you want to call your Relicarn, you need to let it guide you. Right now, you’re reaching for something unknown, and that’s why you fail.”

  Lucian folded his arms. “Then what do I do?”

  Aldric smirked. “Close your eyes.”

  Lucian sighed but obeyed. The night’s chill bit at his skin as he steadied his breathing. The scent of damp earth filled his senses, the distant rustling of leaves forming a rhythmic pulse in the background.

  “Now,” Aldric’s voice was quieter, almost distant. “Remember the moment your sword broke.”

  Lucian’s breath hitched. The memory was raw—the way the blade had shattered, the panic that had surged through him, the overwhelming force that had taken over.

  Aldric continued. “What did you feel in that moment? Not fear. Not doubt. Go deeper.”

  Lucian clenched his fists. He had felt something. A pull. A shift in the very air around him. Power—wild, untamed, yet familiar, as if it had been waiting for him to notice it.

  He focused on that feeling, reaching for it not with thought, but with instinct.

  And then—

  A spark ignited in his chest.

  Lucian gasped as warmth spread through him, like fire surging through his veins. His skin tingled, his heartbeat steadying into something deeper, more primal. The air around him thickened, vibrating with unseen energy. His Ascen was reacting.

  Aldric stepped back, watching closely. “Good. Now, listen.”

  The warmth intensified, and suddenly, something else was there. Not a presence—more like an echo of something long buried. A name. A whisper at the edge of his consciousness, just beyond his grasp.

  Lucian strained to hear it. What is your name?

  The whisper grew clearer. He reached for it—

  And then the world snapped back into focus. The energy vanished, leaving him gasping for breath. His knees buckled, but Aldric caught him before he collapsed.

  “Not bad,” the old man murmured, his voice laced with approval. “You nearly heard it, didn’t you?”

  Lucian swallowed, his throat dry. He nodded. “It was there… just out of reach.”

  Aldric smiled faintly. “Then we keep trying.”

  Lucian met his gaze. The exhaustion was still there, but beneath it, something else burned—a determination unlike any he had felt before.

  His Relicarn was waiting for him.

  And he would find it.

  ---------------------------------

  The room was silent, save for the soft flickering of candlelight. Shadows danced along the stone walls, stretching and twisting like unseen specters. The wooden floor creaked beneath Lucian as he shifted, his body tense with anticipation.

  He sat cross-legged in the center of the room, surrounded by the scent of aged parchment and faint traces of incense. The church was quiet at this hour, the halls empty, the world outside lost in the embrace of midnight. He should have been resting, regaining his strength after yesterday’s exhausting training. But sleep never came.

  Not with the Relicarn calling to him.

  Lucian's hands trembled slightly as he placed them on his knees, taking a slow breath. He had failed before. Every time he tried to reach for it—to grasp the power that was supposed to be his—it slipped further away. But he wouldn’t fail again. He couldn’t.

  Aldric always warned him: Patience. Control. The Ascen is not something to rush.

  But patience wouldn’t save him in the battles to come. Strength would.

  Tonight, he would push past the barrier. Tonight, he would claim what was his.

  Closing his eyes, Lucian focused inward, searching for that flickering ember of power deep within. At first, there was nothing but the steady rhythm of his own breathing. Then—

  A pull.

  Faint, but undeniable. A whisper at the edge of his mind, luring him deeper.

  Lucian exhaled sharply, leaning into it. The room around him seemed to fade as he dove further, reaching, grasping—

  Too deep.

  A sudden force seized him, dragging him downward into a void darker than anything he had ever known.

  He gasped, but there was no air. No light. No warmth. Just an abyss stretching endlessly beneath him.

  Then, a voice.

  Low. Ancient. Dripping with amusement and malice.

  "Foolish child… still too early for this. Yet here you are."

  Lucian’s heart pounded as the shadows around him writhed. The voice was inside his head, inside his bones, wrapping around him like chains.

  "Dive deeper," it urged, its tone smooth, almost coaxing. "Give in… let me take over."

  Something unseen brushed against him—a force so overwhelming, so powerful, it sent waves of energy crackling through his body. The walls of the church shuddered. Candles blew out. A dark blue aura erupted from Lucian’s body, swirling violently like a storm barely contained.

  Pain lanced through his skull. He clenched his jaw, trying to pull away, but the force held him fast. The voice laughed.

  "You are close… but not strong enough. Let go, and I will show you true power."

  A deafening crack split the air—wood splintering, stone groaning under pressure. The darkness surged.

  Then—

  A force slammed into his back.

  A shock of warmth, sharp and burning, spread through his body. The abyss shattered in an instant, the voice’s laughter twisting into a furious roar before fading into silence.

  Lucian’s vision blurred. His body convulsed, and then—

  Nothing.

  When he woke, the world was a blur of light and sound. His limbs felt like lead, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

  The scent of smoke and burnt wood filled the air.

  He was on a bed. The stone ceiling of the church loomed above him, cracks lining its surface. The echoes of what had just happened still pulsed in his mind, like the remnants of a nightmare refusing to fade.

  Then, a voice.

  "You almost lost yourself."

  Lucian turned his head sluggishly, his body weak and trembling. Aldric.

  The man sat beside him, his expression shadowed, eyes filled with something Lucian wasn’t used to seeing. Regret.

  "You weren’t ready," Aldric continued, his tone quieter than usual. "I told you—forcing it will only destroy you." His hand tightened into a fist. "The Relicarn doesn’t answer to impatience. And your Ascen… it’s more unstable than I expected."

  Lucian swallowed. He could still feel it—that presence, lurking at the edges of his mind. Watching. Waiting.

  "I heard something," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "It spoke to me."

  Aldric’s gaze sharpened. "What did it say?"

  Lucian hesitated. Even now, the words echoed in his skull. Let me take over.

  "It wanted control," he finally admitted. "It wanted me to let go."

  Silence. Heavy. Unyielding.

  Aldric exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenched. "Then we have a problem."

  Lucian forced himself upright, his muscles screaming in protest. He turned to Aldric, his expression hard.

  "Aldric… what am I?"

  For a moment, the older man didn’t answer. Then, slowly, he stood, his gaze shifting toward the doorway, as if sensing something beyond it.

  "You need to know the truth," Aldric said at last. "About your Ascen. About the power inside you. And about why we are running out of time."

  Lucian swallowed hard.

  Because deep inside him, beneath the exhaustion and fear, he knew one thing—

  The voice wasn’t gone.

  And next time it spoke…

  Would he be strong enough to resist it?

  ---------------------------------

  The air inside the church was heavy, thick with the remnants of unstable energy. The walls, once pristine, bore the scars of Lucian’s failed attempt to control his Relicarn. The flickering candlelight cast uneasy shadows, and the lingering scent of burnt wood mixed with the metallic tang of something far more sinister.

  Lucian’s body ached, but he forced himself to sit up. Aldric stood near the door, his face unreadable, his thoughts clearly weighing on him.

  "Rest," Aldric commanded, but his voice lacked its usual strictness. "You’re not ready for what’s coming."

  Lucian frowned. "You keep saying that. Ready for what?"

  Aldric hesitated, as if debating whether to speak. But before he could answer—

  A sudden chill crept through the room.

  It wasn’t the cold of the night air or the dampness of old stone. No, this was something far worse. It slithered through the cracks of the church, an unnatural presence pressing against the very fabric of reality. The candles flickered violently before going out, plunging the chamber into darkness.

  Aldric tensed. "No…"

  Lucian felt it now, too—a presence. Watching. Hunting.

  Then—

  The faintest sound of footsteps outside the church doors. Slow. Measured. Predatory.

  Aldric reacted instantly. He strode to the window, peering out into the night. His face hardened.

  "Damn it," he muttered. "He found us faster than I thought."

  Lucian swallowed. "Who?"

  Aldric turned to him, eyes sharp. "The 12th Scion. The Hollow Lord's hunter."

  The name sent a shiver down Lucian’s spine. He had heard whispers of the Scions—agents of the Hollow Lord, beings of immense power who answered only to their master. They were relentless, efficient, and utterly merciless. If one had been sent after him, it meant only one thing—

  The Hollow Lord saw him as a threat.

  A low, reverberating knock echoed through the church, impossibly loud in the silence.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Each one heavier than the last.

  Aldric didn’t move. He simply exhaled, as if bracing himself for what was about to come.

  "Lucian," he said, his voice now cold and deliberate. "Listen carefully. This is not a fight you can win. Not yet. You need to run."

  Lucian’s breath caught. "But—"

  "NOW."

  The doors burst open.

  A powerful gust of wind surged through the church, sending shattered debris flying across the room. The very air seemed to warp, bending under the weight of something wrong.

  And there, standing in the open doorway, framed by the silver light of the moon—

  The 12th Scion.

  A towering figure clad in flowing black robes, adorned with intricate silver etchings that pulsed with an eerie glow. Their face was hidden beneath a hood, but beneath the shadow, Lucian could just barely make out a hint of something… inhuman.

  And their voice—

  Cold. Hollow. Absolute.

  "You cannot run from the inevitable, Lucian."

  Lucian’s heart pounded. His hands curled into fists, despite his exhaustion.

  The 12th Scion stepped forward, the very ground beneath them twisting as if reality itself recoiled from their presence.

  "You carry something that belongs to my Lord," they continued. "Come quietly, and I will grant you a swift end."

  Lucian felt an instinctual pull of fear—but beneath it, something else.

  Defiance.

  Aldric stepped in front of him, his stance shifting, his aura rising. "You'll have to go through me first."

  The 12th Scion tilted their head slightly. Then they raised a single gloved hand.

  Darkness surged from their palm, expanding outward like a living entity, tendrils of shadow stretching toward them. The church trembled under its presence, the very walls groaning as if on the verge of collapse.

  Lucian could barely breathe under the sheer weight of it.

  But Aldric did not flinch. He took a single step forward, his own aura bursting to life—golden, burning, unyielding.

  "Lucian," he said one last time. "RUN."

  Lucian clenched his teeth, torn between instinct and pride.

  But he knew—if he stayed, they would both die.

  So, despite every fiber of his being screaming at him to fight…

  He turned.

  And ran.