Rael stood in the dimly lit training chamber of the Order of the Black Sun. The scent of burning incense and aged parchment filled the air. Before him stood Lady Selene Drakos, her piercing gaze as sharp as the blade she wielded. Around them, other recruits trained relentlessly, the sound of clashing swords and controlled breathing echoing through the hall.
"Again," Selene ordered, flicking her wrist. Her rapier struck toward Rael in a blur.
He barely had time to react, sidestepping the thrust, but she was faster. A swift kick to his ribs sent him sprawling onto the stone floor.
"You're holding back," she said, twirling her rapier. "The abyss within you grows restless. If you do not learn to control it, it will consume you."
Rael gritted his teeth. The Black Star's mark pulsed on his hand, his veins darkening for a moment. He could feel Nyxthar's whisper slithering through his mind, tempting him to let go, to embrace the hunger.
"I can't lose myself to it," he muttered.
Selene sighed. "Then you will die on the battlefield. Stand. Again."
The sparring continued. Every time he hesitated, Selene punished him with precise strikes, forcing him to respond faster. The other recruits watched in silent judgment. One in particular, a towering warrior named Darius, smirked from the sidelines.
"Tch. Pathetic," Darius muttered. "He won't last a single mission."
Rael heard it. The abyss stirred.
In a blur, he lunged. Shadows flickered around him as his speed increased unnaturally. He swung his sword at Selene, his strikes now infused with the unnatural power of his pact. For a moment, she actually looked surprised.
Then, just as quickly, she disarmed him, knocking him flat on his back. "Better," she admitted. "But reckless."
Rael panted, staring at the ceiling. He could feel it—the abyss was waiting. And it was hungry.