She lay on the cold ground, her body still, her hair spread across the stone like a dark halo. The ember's glow reflected off her skin, making her look impossibly fragile.
Mandle's breath caught.
The shadows around him stilled.
He knelt beside her, his hands shaking as they brushed her cheek.
Cold.
Too cold.
His throat tightened.
He leaned closer, voice barely a whisper.
"I'm here…"
The shadows trembled, reacting to the crack in his voice. They curled inward, gathering around him like frightened creatures sensing the storm inside their master. Mandle's fingers hovered over her face, afraid to press harder, afraid she might vanish if he didn't touch her.
His breath hitched.
A tremor ran through his shoulders.
For a moment, the entire chamber seemed to hold itself still — the air, the stone, even the ember's glow — as if waiting for whatever he would say next.
Mandle's fingers lingered on her cheek, trembling. His vision blurred, his heartbeat uneven. The power inside him twisted violently, reacting to the cold stillness of her body.
His lips parted.
And in a voice so soft it barely existed, he whispered:
"Kill."
The shadows obeyed instantly.
They surged outward, sweeping across the chamber. The priests collapsed one by one as the shadows pulled their essence, their divine energy, their life force — leaving only silence behind.
The king, watching from the far end, stumbled backward in terror. His crown slipped from his head as he turned and fled, running for his life.
Mandle didn't look at him.
He lifted his hand, and the shadows delivered what they had taken — a swirling mass of divine energy, glowing faintly like a captured star.
He shaped it into a sphere with a single motion and slipped it into his clothing.
Then the power inside him surged too fast.
Too violently.
Mandle began laughing — a trembling, fractured sound. Then crying. Then both at once.
He struck his forehead against the ground, once, twice, as if trying to silence the storm inside him.
"Destiny!" he shouted, the word echoing like a command to the universe itself.
Outside the chamber, the wolf lifted its head.
Mandle's voice cut through the air again — deeper now, ancient, commanding.
"Bring her to me."
The wolf obeyed immediately, stepping into the chamber with silent reverence.
Mandle reached out, cupping her face gently with both hands. His touch was careful, almost fragile.
His vision blurred.
His strength slipped.
He leaned closer, voice breaking.
"I didn't even get to know your name…"
His body swayed.
The shadows caught him.
And Mandle fainted beside her, the chamber falling into a heavy, unnatural stillness.