The altar cracked open with a thunderous groan, spilling out a cold wind that extinguished every torch in the chamber. Darkness swallowed the room, broken only by the ember's eerie glow pulsing beneath Mandle's hand.
Then they rose.
Twisted shapes crawled out of the altar, dragging shadows with them. Their voices scraped against the stone like rusted metal.
"Who summons us—" "Who dares disturb our rest—" "A mortal child touches the altar— laughable—" "You are nothing—"
Their contempt filled the chamber.
Mandle staggered as the power inside him surged too violently. His head struck the altar's edge. Warmth slid down his face. He touched it, stared at the dark smear on his fingers… then dragged his hand across his lips.
A metallic tang touched his tongue.
His smile widened — slow, feral, unrestrained.
The demons froze.
Because in that instant, they felt it.
The power in Mandle's veins. The darkness coiling beneath his skin. The presence awakening behind his eyes.
Their voices died.
One by one, the demons dropped to their knees.
"Forgive us…" "We did not know…" "Spare us, heir…"
Mandle lifted his head slowly. Tears streamed down his face — not from sorrow, but from the overwhelming force rising inside him.
A trembling laugh escaped him.
"You… took what belongs to me."
The shadows surged forward like a living storm. They wrapped around the nearest demon, pulling its essence, its strength, its very presence. The creature dimmed, unraveling like smoke being inhaled.
Mandle breathed in.
The shadows poured into him.
His aura flared — darker, heavier, ancient.
The others tried to flee. None escaped.
One by one, they faded into nothingness, their power swallowed by a boy using only a half‑tenth of what had awakened inside him.
When the last demon vanished, the chamber fell silent.
Mandle's gaze shifted.
Slowly… painfully… inevitably…
Toward her.