The humming hum, a raw echo that vibrated the shattered stones, grew louder as the titanic shadow solidified, ascending from the centre of the red vortex. One titanic eye, burning with an ancient, ghastly ferocity, fixed Elara under its dominating gaze, causing the flesh on her spine to crawl. Out of the chasm's depths, a voice old and terrible puffed her name, a black kiss that was in harmony with the rune on the palm of her hand, a cold familiarity that seized her breath.
"Elara…" the voice rasped, a sound that appeared to burrow into her very being, a dark, sweet melody which promised both power and servitude.
Caius, his eyes wide with a combination of awe and fear, reached for her, his hand trembling, but his grip firm. "Elara, we have to go now," he whispered, his voice strained, his eyes darting between her and the advancing darkness, a silent appeal against the ancient's spell.
Elara, her eyes glowing faintly crimson, felt a strange, unsettling pull toward the ancient entity. The rune on her palm pulsed, its light throbbing in time with the resonant hum, a dark heartbeat that echoed the ancient's call, a forbidden rhythm that stirred a dangerous curiosity within her. Despite the fear that coiled in her stomach, a strange, almost intoxicating power emanated from the ancient presence, a dark allure that threatened to consume her.
"I… I can feel it," she breathed, her breath barely audible, her eyes glued to the burning eye, a willing listener to its ancient power. "It's… singing to me, like an old forgotten tune."
The enormous shadow shifted, its form boiling and taking shape, and Elara glimpsed a human form in the darkness, a form that implied loveliness and terror. The giant eye tightened, its gaze expanding, searing into Elara's essence, an ownership fierceness that sped her heart, a black requirement that echoed through the ruins.
"You are bound to me, Elara," the ancient voice rasped, its voice a dark whisper, an icy promise of servitude till death. "By blood, by rune, by the oaths you didst violate. You are mine, a repository of my very old power."
Caius, his jaw set, stepped between Elara and the towering figure, his sword raised, a desperate gesture of defiance against the ancient power, a flimsy shield against the encroaching darkness. "She is not yours," he growled, his voice trembling, but with a fierce protectiveness, a bitter protest against the ancient's assertion. "She is her own, and she will choose her own path."
The old being laughed, a deep, echoing roar that vibrated through shattered remains, a laugh which bore witness to ancient humour and unbridled power. "Fools," it growled, its voice laced with ancient disdain. "You cannot stand against fate, nor against the ancient bonds that hold her to me."
The ground beneath them trembled, the distance widening, the inferno of red-glowing blood-light building, a desperate whirl of darkness and light. The massive shadow extended itself, its finger an eddy of dark energy, grasping Elara, a dark embrace full of power and destruction.
Caius forged forward, flashing his sword, trying to strike through the black finger, to shield her from the ancient's grasp. But the old one moved too fast, too powerful. The dark hand lashed out, a whip of pure, evil power, a lash that struck Caius with so much force he was flung, crashing into the shattered wall of the chasm, a violent expulsion into the darkness. He grunted, his flesh aching, his sword on the ground, a lost sword against ancient power.
Elara's eyes burnt red, with a crimson light, as she felt a shock of raw, wild power in her, a black echo of the old one's power, a black resonance with the rune on her hand. The welts on her skin chafed with an unacceptable heat, a black harmony of stirring. She could feel a strange, almost intoxicating strength, a black magic that might consume her, make her a vehicle for ancient will.
"No," she breathed, her voice strained, her fists clenched, her will a slender line against the insidious darkness. "I won't be a puppet. I won't be its vessel. I will not be a tool of the ancients' desire."
She focused her will, gathering the wild power within her, attempting to sever the connection between herself and the ancient creature, to break the dark connection that might kill her. The red welts on her body burnt, the rune on her palm flared wildly, and the abyss churned violently, as though the ancient force within sought to break free, to take its rightful vessel.
The ancient creature's hand pulled at her, its black power swirling, a chill caress promising eternal servitude, a black bear hug that echoed the ancient's declaration. Elara, her frame trembling, her eyes glowing with scarlet light, felt the black energy seep into her skin, attempting to trap her as its host, to bind her to the ancient power.
A flash of scarlet energy burst forth from her body, colliding with the dark energy of the ancient creature, a bloody conflict that shook the ruins, a shuddering that rocked the crumbling stone, a mad outburst of naked, uncontrolled power. The ancient creature recoiled, its hand spasming and weakening, its dark energy shaking, a wounded animal retreating from a desperate foe.
"You can't help yourself, Elara," the ancient voice snarled, its voice weighed down with black intimacy, with the cold promise of unescapable fate. "The tie is sealed. In blood, in rune, in the shattered vows. You are mine, and nothing can change that."
Caius struggled to stand, his burning eyes filled with a desperate will, reached out to Elara, his straining hand a gossamer thread against encroaching blackness. "Elara, struggle," he urged, his voice harsh, his eyes blazed with desperate love. "You are more powerful than this. You do not stand alone."
Elara looked at him, eyes ablaze with scarlet, her heart pounding hard against the boundaries of her ribs, a mad rhythm against the summons of the ancient. She saw the fear in his eyes, but more the unshakeable determination, the wild love that smouldered through him, one that defied the summons of the ancient. There was within her a curious sense of warmth in her breast, a weak glow of hope against the spreading shadow, a fervent rebellion to the claim of the ancient.
"I will," she panted, her voice strained, her eyes locked on his, her will a fragile shield against the might of the ancient. "I will fight for us. I will not be consumed."
She unleashed a torrent of blood-red energy, raw, untrammelled power that assailed the ancient being, a last act of defiance against the ancient power, a crazed explosion of raw, untrammelled will. The power clashed with the dark energy of the ancient being, a blinding flash of light, a crazed eruption that shook the ruins, a last scream of defiance against the ancient's takeover.
The ancient one emitted a roar, a snarling scream of rage and fury, its form swirling and unstable, its power weakening. The gulf trembled, its depths revealing a roiling whirlpool of red and black, a lunatic abyss that would consume them all, a lunatic dance with the void. The ruins began to crumble, the collapsing walls and broken pillars tumbling into the gulf, a lunatic tumble into the abyss, a chilling spectacle of destruction.
As the ruins disintegrate and the ancient creature roars in anger, Elara, her eyes burning with scarlet, unleashes a final, desperate spasm of chaotic energy, and the rune on her palm begins to burn with a fierce, blinding light, a beacon in the oncoming darkness, and from the depths of the chasm, a voice, ancient and horrific, speaks, "If I may not have you, no one shall," and the chasm begins to collapse, threatening to engulf them all in a mad whirlpool of scarlet and darkness, and the ancient creature's form begins to shift, becoming more human, and reaching out for Elara with a human hand.