The journey to their destination took three more days.
Three days of constant vigilance, triple watches, jumping at shadows. Every traveler they passed became a potential threat. Every distant figure on the hillside could be a scout. The knowledge that slavers were actively hunting mages—hunting people exactly like them—transformed the eastern road from safe trade route to enemy territory.
They reached the merchant city of Hartwick without further incident, though the tension never fully lifted. Aldric completed his business in record time, desperate to return to the relative safety of Eldoria.
"I'm never taking the eastern route again," he declared while settling final payment. "I don't care if it adds a week to my travel time. That road is cursed."
"It's not cursed," Selene said, accepting the coin. "It's just dangerous. There's a difference."
"Not from where I'm standing."
The return journey was equally uneventful but no less stressful. They took a different route—longer but more trafficked, keeping to areas where other travelers were visible. Safety in numbers, as Commander Lyris had suggested.
When Eldoria's walls finally came into view on the tenth day, Nolan felt something in his chest unclench. Home. Or as close to home as he had anymore.
"First thing I'm doing," Darion announced as they passed through the gate, "is sleeping for twelve hours straight. In a real bed. With a locked door. And possibly a barricade."
"Second thing I'm doing," Kaida added, "is finding the strongest drink available and consuming it until recent memories become pleasantly fuzzy."
"Responsible," Selene said dryly. "Very professional."
"We nearly became ritual sacrifices. I think I've earned one night of irresponsibility."
They returned to the townhouse, filed their completion report with the Guild, and collected their payment. 600 silver divided four ways—150 each. Good money, even if every coin felt like it came with the memory of dead bandits and suppression collars.
"Council meeting tomorrow," Selene announced. "We need to report what Commander Lyris told us about the abductions. Forty victims is too significant to ignore."
"Will they listen?" Darion asked.
"They'll have to. We have corroborating reports from an independent elven clan, physical evidence from the ambush site, and personal testimony from a registered C-rank team." Selene's expression was grim. "And if they don't listen, my father will make them listen."
That night, Varrick joined them for dinner. Selene recounted the entire eastern road experience—the ambush, the slavers, Commander Lyris's information about systematic abductions.
Varrick's expression grew progressively darker as she spoke.
"Forty people," he said quietly when she finished. "Forty confirmed victims, likely more we don't know about. And the Council received warning from the Silverleaf Clan weeks ago?"
"According to Commander Lyris."
"Then someone in the Council is either incompetent or deliberately blocking the information." Varrick stood, already moving toward his study. "I'm calling an emergency session. Tomorrow morning. This ends now."
After he left, the team sat in heavy silence.
"He's a good man," Darion observed. "Your father. Genuinely cares about doing right."
"He is," Selene agreed softly. "Sometimes I forget how rare that is among the Council. Most of them only care about politics and power. He actually remembers why the Council exists—to protect people."
Nolan thought about the pendant Varrick had given him before the sweep operation. The protective charm that had probably saved his life when that corrupted wolf attacked. A gift from a man who cared about keeping people safe.
The weight in his chest shifted. Not words. Just... presence. Cold observation.
He retreated to his room early, claiming exhaustion. It wasn't entirely a lie—ten days of constant stress had drained him physically and mentally. But mostly he needed space from his team's concerned glances.
They'd noticed. Of course they'd noticed. The way the bandits had coordinated their attack, how many had focused on isolating and capturing him specifically. Selene had glanced at him several times during the telling, questions clearly forming behind her eyes.
She hadn't asked yet. But she would.
Nolan pulled out his grandfather's journal, seeking distraction in the familiar entries. He'd read them so many times he practically had them memorized, but the routine was comforting.
Day 1456: The seal will hold for twenty years, perhaps twenty-five. After that, the degradation becomes exponential. The boy will need guidance when it fails—guidance I'm not certain I can provide without revealing truths he's not ready to hear.
Day 1623: I wonder sometimes if we made the right choice. Sealing evil within an innocent child, condemning him to carry darkness he never chose. But what alternative existed? Let the power remain unsecured? Risk it falling into the wrong hands? There were no good options. Only terrible ones and slightly less terrible ones.
Day 1891: The cult grows bolder. They sense something, even after all these years. Like bloodhounds catching a scent they can't quite place. If they ever discover what we did, where we hid it... the boy will become the most hunted person in Eldoria.
The most hunted person in Eldoria.
Nolan closed the journal, those words echoing in his mind. The cult was already hunting mages, harvesting them for rituals. What would they do if they discovered he carried half of their Dark Lord's power? How far would they go?
They would burn the world, came the whisper—sudden, sharp after days of silence. And they would enjoy it.
"You're in a talkative mood tonight."
You're in danger. Real danger, for the first time since awakening. It amuses me.
"Glad my potential death entertains you."
Everything about you entertains me. Watching you pretend to be normal while carrying apocalypse in your chest. Watching you lie to people who trust you. Watching you slowly corrupt, decision by decision, lie by lie. A pause. You're becoming interesting.
"I'm not corrupting. I'm surviving."
Same thing. Another pause, longer. The cult harvests mages for power. Drains them. Uses them. How long before they drain your friends? The elf with her clever questions? The dwarf with his loyalty? The swordswoman who looks at you like you matter?
"Shut up."
Make me. Cold amusement. Oh wait—you can't. I'm part of you now. Have been since you were born. Will be until one of us dies.
"Then I guess we'll die together."
Perhaps. Or perhaps you'll surrender first. Let me save them when the time comes. All you have to do is... stop fighting.
Nolan didn't respond. Didn't give Diablo the satisfaction.
After several minutes of silence, the presence withdrew into waiting stillness. But the poison had been delivered. The thoughts planted.
How long before the cult found him? How many people would die because of what he carried?
Sleep came eventually, fitful and filled with dark dreams.
The emergency Council session was held at dawn.
Varrick had worked through the night, gathering documentation, calling in favors, assembling evidence. By the time the Council convened, he had a presentation that left no room for dismissal.
The Warriors Four weren't present—civilians weren't typically allowed in Council chambers. But they waited in an antechamber, ready to provide testimony if called.
"Think they'll actually do something?" Darion asked, pacing.
"My father will make sure of it," Selene said with confidence.
Two hours later, Varrick emerged looking exhausted but satisfied.
"We've authorized military patrols on the eastern road and increased Guild presence in contested territories," he reported. "Search parties will be sent to investigate the ritual sites Commander Lyris identified. And we're offering bounties for information leading to cult hideouts."
"That's good," Selene said. "That's actually good."
"It's a start. But Councilor Thera raised an important point—the cult is targeting specific individuals. Mages and warriors with documented power." Varrick looked at each of them. "Which means all registered adventurers are potential targets. The Council is recommending teams operate in larger groups, avoid isolated routes, and report any suspicious activity immediately."
"We can do that," Kaida said.
"Good. Because there's more." Varrick pulled out a document. "The Mage's Guild has been asked to conduct evaluations of all registered mages, measuring power levels and potential vulnerability to forced mana extraction. It's voluntary, but highly encouraged."
Nolan's stomach dropped. "Evaluations?"
"Just routine measurements. Making sure we know which mages might be at highest risk, so we can provide additional protection." Varrick's expression was gentle. "I know it feels invasive, but it's for everyone's safety."
"When?" Nolan managed to keep his voice steady.
"Starting next week. They're setting up special assessment rooms at the Guild." Varrick handed him the document. "You'll receive an official summons, but I wanted to give you advance notice."
After Varrick left, the team dispersed to their various activities. Nolan retreated to his room, mind racing.
Evaluations. They'd measure his power, map his mana signature, document everything. And if they looked too closely, would they notice the seal? The foreign presence in his chest? The fact that his power didn't match any normal elemental affinity?
They'll know, came the cold whisper. One look with the right tools and they'll see exactly what you are. A prison. A vessel. A bomb waiting to explode.
"Maybe I shouldn't go."
Then they'll wonder why. Suspicion leads to investigation. Investigation leads to discovery. You're trapped.
Nolan sat on his bed, the document crumpling in his grip. Every path led to the same place—exposure, discovery, questions he couldn't answer.
A knock interrupted his spiral. "Nolan? It's me."
Selene's voice. He opened the door.
She stood there with two cups of tea, her expression unusually gentle. "Thought you might want company. You've been alone a lot since we got back."
"Just tired."
"That's what you always say." She handed him a cup and invited herself into his room, settling into the small chair by his desk. "But I think it's more than that."
"Selene—"
"I'm not interrogating you. I'm just... checking in." She sipped her tea. "That ambush on the eastern road shook all of us. Knowing we were being hunted for our magic, that we could've been drained for cult rituals. That's heavy."
"Yeah. It is."
"And you seem to take it harder than the rest of us. Like you expected it, somehow." Her gray eyes studied him. "Like you've been waiting for something bad to happen."
Nolan's grip tightened on his cup. "I just... after losing my family the way I did, I guess I'm always waiting for the next disaster. Expecting things to go wrong."
"That's trauma. That's normal." Selene set her cup down. "But Nolan, you're safe here. With us. We look out for each other. Whatever happens, we face it together."
Lies, Diablo whispered. Sweet, comforting lies.
"I know. Thank you."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Finally, Selene stood. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll take an easy contract—something local, low-risk. Give everyone time to decompress."
After she left, Nolan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The evaluation was coming. The cult was hunting. His secrets were becoming harder to keep.
And somewhere in the darkness of his chest, Diablo waited.
Patient. Hungry. Knowing that eventually, inevitably, everything would fall apart.
And when it did, Nolan would have no choice but to surrender.
The weight settled heavier.
Waiting.
Three days passed in relative peace.
The team took easy contracts as promised—investigating a merchant's missing inventory (found in his competitor's warehouse), escorting a nervous scholar to the library (uneventful), helping train new Guild recruits in basic combat tactics (surprisingly fun).
Normal adventurer work. No cultists, no death threats, no systematic abductions.
Nolan almost let himself relax.
Then the summons arrived.
Nolan Thorne,
You are hereby requested to attend a mana evaluation at the Mage's Guild on the 15th day of this month. This evaluation is part of the Council's initiative to ensure the safety of all registered mages in light of recent cult activity.
The evaluation will consist of: Basic power measurement, Mana signature mapping, Elemental affinity assessment, Control evaluation
This is a voluntary assessment, but strongly recommended for your protection and the safety of those around you.
Please report to Assessment Room 3 at the second bell.
Master Lyra, Chief Evaluator
The date was tomorrow.
Nolan read the summons three times, each reading making his hands shake more.
They were going to look directly at his power. Map his signature. Assess his control.
And they were going to see exactly what he was trying to hide.
The weight in his chest pressed harder than ever.
Tomorrow, Diablo said, his voice like ice, everything changes.
And for once, Nolan couldn't argue.